Scars that healed me: A journey through infertility, IVF, and hysterectomy

The journey of being a woman is not for the faint-hearted. It’s a path filled with expectations, transitions, and challenges – from trying to conceive, to carrying children, to eventually approaching menopause. Each stage reshapes how we see our bodies and, just as importantly, how we care for them.

In my twenties, I didn’t think much about my body beyond how it looked. I certainly didn’t cherish it or nurture it the way I do now. Back then, I was told I would never conceive naturally. That news came like a punch to the gut, and I carried with it a sense of shame, as though being unable to bear children naturally made me less of a woman. Looking back, I realise how deeply those irrational thoughts cut into my self-worth.

The next decade became a blur of IVF treatments, ectopic pregnancies, and miscarriages. For nearly ten years, my body was on a relentless rollercoaster; expanding and shrinking with each round of hormones, injections, and the physical demands of IVF. It felt as though my identity was tethered to my body’s ability to withstand it all. But through that turbulence, I was eventually blessed with two children.

By my mid-thirties, after “closing the factory” I finally returned to myself. I could make health a priority again by working out, eating better, and strengthening my body. Slowly, I rebuilt not only physical strength but also a sense of love for my body. By the time I crossed into my forties, I felt like I was in the best shape of my life.

And then came a new chapter I hadn’t anticipated: a hysterectomy.

For years, I had been dealing with endometriosis and a recurring ovarian cyst. Initially, the plan was for a simple cystectomy, but after discussions with my doctor, we decided on a hysterectomy – removing my uterus but keeping my ovaries. I had put it off for over a year, largely because the word “hysterectomy” carried a lot of fear for me. It felt like an “older woman’s” procedure, something I wasn’t ready to confront. And, much like in my twenties, old feelings of guilt and brokenness crept in. Once again, I caught myself wondering: did this make me less of a woman?

But this time, the story unfolded differently.

The morning of the surgery, after months of dread, I actually felt a sense of relief, even excitement. I knew that the years of hormonal imbalances, pain, and the ever-growing cyst would finally come to an end. Seeing the support and encouragement in my husband’s and children’s faces reminded me that they had been carrying this journey with me, too.

When I woke up after surgery, sore and groggy, I looked down at the small scars on my abdomen and felt grateful. It was over. And within four days, I was already taking short walks, moving around my home, and feeling about 80 percent back to myself. The recovery was nothing like what I had endured before. As I write this, it’s day 6 and I’m back to work and so grateful for this recovery.

I had undergone laparoscopic surgery in my twenties for a similar cyst, and back then, recovery was brutal. I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t fit, and mental health was nowhere on my radar. I dragged myself through the healing process, frustrated and weakened. At 26, I didn’t have the habits, mindset, or resilience to support recovery.

At 43, it felt like night and day. Years of weight training, exercise, and consistent self-care had made my body resilient. Prioritising sleep and nutrition gave me a solid foundation for healing. And perhaps most importantly, the attention I’ve given to my mental health transformed everything. I’ve learned how much the mind and body work together – that resilience isn’t just physical, it’s also emotional.

Just four nights after my surgery I remember falling asleep in a cloud of gratitude, unable to stop finding all the wonderful things that have come from having this surgery. I woke up my husband and started to share them all with him, even the simple ones of having more extra time at home with him during this recovery which felt like a small, simple gift.

That’s the lesson I carry now. My story isn’t about saying everyone’s recovery will be the same. Every woman’s body is different, every surgery unique. But science, and my lived experience, show that when we consistently care for our bodies and minds, we give ourselves the best possible chance to bounce back stronger.

From infertility in my twenties to a hysterectomy at 43, this journey has reshaped my understanding of womanhood. The scars on my body may be small, but the lessons are profound: that we are never broken, that our strength is built over time, and that caring for our physical and mental health is the most powerful investment we can make in ourselves.

Shireena Shroff Manchharam is a Her World Tribe member, the founder and principal consultant of Sheens Consulting, and the founder and creator of Getting To Happy, a mental health movement to inspire our community and society to live happier, more mindful lives.