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Dear Colleen,

I find it fitting that I write this review as a letter to you the way Lily would write to Ellen. Don't ask me why, I really don't know. What I do know is that I haven't been on ŷ������ in nearly six months and it's entirely your fault that i'm here now. So, if i stumble upon a poor review on one of my books and end up in the fetal position on my kitchen floor surrounded by Ding Dong wrappers, well, I'm blaming it on you. I've even given my husband instructions to bill you for the psychiatry bill if that happens.

On Friday I had a hysterectomy. It wasn't the worst day of my life, but it certainly wasn't the best. One chapter of my life--quite possibly the best chapter--ended. The surgery itself took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. Can you believe that? Twenty minutes to take out the uterus that carried my three beautiful babies for a total of twenty eight months. Twenty minutes to change my life. Don't feel bad for me, that's not what I want. The offending organ had to come out, I knew this. But it didn't make it any easier. It didn't make the finality of the situation any easier. In all honesty, for a couple of minutes I didn't just feel like a chapter was ending, more like an entire flipping book. Maybe my life isn't made up of chapters, maybe it's part of a duet, or a trilogy? Either way, part of my story was over.

Over a matter of several hours, I slowly woke up from surgery and at one point I remember sitting there and just staring at the wall paper in my hospital room.

My uterus was gone.

Mauve diamonds.

The wallpaper was covered in mauve diamonds.

That's the most hideous color, don't you think? Mauve. Not quite pink. Not quite maroon.

I counted seven hundred and fifty three diamonds before I allowed the first tear to fall. But I wasn't just crying for losing a part of my body, and I wasn't crying for losing the ability to carry more children. I was crying because some women don't even get to experience what I've gotten to experience. Some women never get to have babies. They never get to feel them grow in their bellies. They never get to see the slimy little monsters as they tumble their way into this world.

And I did.

I got to do all of that three times.

So why was I so upset? What the hell was my problem? I should be grateful, right? Happy?

My husband slept soundly in the chair, snoring softly, but at some point my cries must have woken him up. He stirred and I did the only thing I could do ... I grabbed your book. You see, it was sitting on my bedside table. I buried my nose between the pages and when my better half asked me if I was okay I simply peeked over the top of the book and whispered, "Colleen. She did it again."

I didn't need to say much more, he knows my obsession with your words and I found myself grateful. Grateful that he knew your books make me cry and grateful that you inadvertently allowed me to grieve. And that's what I did. I read your book and I grieved. I cried when Lily cried. I cried when Ryle cried. And even when no one was crying, I still cried simply because I needed to and I could and no one thought twice about it because i was reading and that's what i do when i read. It was my outlet, my excuse for the tears that wouldn't go away, the tears that kept falling despite my desperate protest.

I cried for all of the Lily's in the world, and the Ryle's too. I cried for the Atlas'. And I cried for the Kirby's (that's my name. No i'm not named after a vacuum, or a cream puff)

But you see, I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to be upset. I have three beautiful children whom I love with my entire heart. My body did it's job extremely well and that is something to be proud of. But why wasn't I proud?

Naked truth?

I'm selfish.
I wanted one more baby even though my husband didn't. I wanted one more baby when there are women out there that can't have any at all.

So why am I telling you this? My story is nothing like Lily's. Not even close.
But maybe it is ...
She wanted something she shouldn't want. I wanted something I couldn't have. She had a decision to make ... one that would change her life. So did I. She made a decision that was right for her and for her life at that particular time.
Ditto.
But the real reason I'm telling you this is because for two days I was drowning and It Ends With Us was my lifeline. It's what I grabbed when I needed to stop thinking ... it's what I grabbed when i needed to cry ... and when i finally finished the book and put it down, it wasn't mauve diamonds that I saw ... it was my smiling children.

My three beautiful smiling children ... and my niece Lily.

-- Kirby