Warning: This is one of those “female” blogs. Just letting the guys know in case they want to sign out before getting started.
For roughly the last 25 months, I have not had a period. It’s been great. It’s been weird. It’s been worrisome. Sure, you recognize that being pregnant you get a pass. And then nursing tends to delay that monthly inevitable. It’s a vacation of sorts. Only a vacation full of others’ bodily functions and sleep deprivation. Ah, motherhood. Good times.
After Stella, I went about 8-9 months before resuming normal functions. In a way this was good, as my body just started to feel more like it was “supposed to.” I don’t really know of any other way to articulate that. This milestone came and went with Felix with nothing. Finally I reached a year post-partum. Nada.
I guess I started to worry a bit. Not that anything was wrong, per se, but what if….. What if I was hitting menopause? In that year I had turned 40 and come out the other side.
I don’t know squat about menopause other than the following:
- You get to ultimately give up periods.
- You may go nuts due to hormones.
- You may have to get supplemental hormones to control certain biological symptoms – or lack thereof – which may make you nuts.
- You get suddenly and inexplicably hot and sweaty.
- Some women think of this as some sort of “loss of womanhood.”
I’ll be honest: I’ve been so busy the last 4 years or so being pregnant and/or dealing with babies and toddlers that menopause has been the last damn thing on my mind. I haven’t even had a chance to mentally “go there.” I haven’t cracked the first virtual book on it. I can’t even get a baseline mammogram yet because I’m always nursing.
Will has been giving me some grief about weaning Felix, even using my lack of periods as some sort of ammunition. And sure, nursing delays things. But 15 months? Regardless, I didn’t want to have that conversation with him. Not only because nursing is my “thing” with my kids, but because I haven’t had a chance to process this whole notion of menopause yet myself, without engaging him in some argument about it – however peripheral it might be to the major topic.
It’s my body and I get to sort it out before discussing it with someone else, damn it. And I’m sure – like most women – I’ll have some angst about it. Not because of any of the reasons above, but because of the whole “agey-ness” of it. Menopause = old.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) things resumed a few days ago. I can report that I am not, in fact, menopausal. I had to scramble to find where I had hidden the tampons. There was 25 months of dust on the box. I don’t guess those things go bad?
But I suppose at some point in the not-to-distant future, I’ll have to tackle this topic. It’s a drag to think about. On the plus side, Stella and I will never PMS together at the same time. I gotta think of the positives here….