That Female Mess

Today is the first day of another period since “the mishap”. It has been six months and
each time I start, it’s a pill that gets harder and harder to swallow. I think
a little background information is needed for you to get the full effect of My
Unbearable, Agonizing, I-Hate-Being-A-Woman-During-This-Time-Of-The-Month
Cycle. Periods for me have always been a pain in the…sides. I mentioned before
that my periods were like clockwork. 28 days, religiously, same start time,
middle of the day. I remember at 15 the first day of my periods were so painful
that during my lunch, I would crawl into a ball in the floor of an empty
classroom with my two BFF’s (that happened to be guys, Brandon & Chad, for
those who know them) and listen to them rant back and forth because it was the
only way to keep my mind off of the pain. If somebody walked in and saw me,
Brandon would say, “leave her alone, she got that female mess”. A true BFF, if
there ever was one. It always took about an hour for three Tylenols to kick in,
so I would squirm around in my desk during Algebra and focus on not falling out
in the floor, withering in pain. Hmm, maybe this is why I have such a hard time
with math…I’ve associated it with pain and repressed the memory of ever
learning it.

The only solution the doctor could give me then was to start the pill. It was a
God-send. No pain, no acne, and I could plan for it each month, same time, 28
days. That is until I went off the pill last August. Since then, I’ve had sharp
pains in my back; cramps like my insides were being crushed for recycled metal,
sixteen year old boy acne, and “the shakes”. I went to Dr. Godspenetic after
the first month of this nonsense and he basically told me, “You are a woman. It’s
your period. Take a Tylenol.” He knew my baby plan and said that until I got
pregnant or went back on the pill, the pain is just something I would have to
deal with. And so, I’ve been dealing with it.

The first two months after the mishap were really emotional for me. After going back to
the Doc for a thorough exam, he assured me that nothing is wrong with me and
that I am perfectly healthy and able to make babies. Mike and I were like, “Challenge.
Accepted.” Apparently our problem was that we could get it in the air, we just
couldn’t land it. Since I knew nothing about pregnancy, ideal conception times,
etc., I started reading. Everything. I Googled, downloaded books, apps, read
about dangerous foods and drinks that lower sperm counts (GOODBYE, MOUNTAIN DEW!),
and read about studies until I became a fricking expert on the magic of making
babies. I know about ovulation calendars, basal thermometers, positions, and
times of the day. I have an app on my phone that I can enter my “flow days” and
it will notify me with little daisies on the days I ovulate. The more petals
the daisy has, the better the chances are at conception. I’d look at my phone
and yell at Mike downstairs, “HEY! Tomorrow I’m at full flower” and he knew I
was a “sure thing” for the next day. I was obsessed!

Being this anal with such high expectations only caused greater let-downs each month
when my period started. I keep mentioning how regular my period was because it
represents something on a much bigger scale. Basically, you can’t plan
anything! It will happen the way it wants to. Ever since November, my period
has NOT been regular. It. Is. Driving. Me. Crazy. I used to be every 28 days.
Now it’s 31 days this month, 26 the next. I never know if I’m late, I never
know how to plan, and it has caused havoc. In February, I thought I was four
days late. I had no acne, no headaches, and I was convinced, CONVINCED, that I
was pregnant. Mike was more realistic that I was and told me that I was just
late and not to count on it. On the fifth day, I woke up and I had started. I
was so angry! The same day I went shopping with my mom, aunt, and cousin and
they were talking about somebody they knew that had just found out they were
pregnant. The girl wasn’t married, had no job, and was younger than me. I burst
into tears. I mean like, uncontrollable, sobbing. I was angry and hated that
girl for having something that I wanted and just couldn’t seem to get. The next
few days that girl stayed on my mind. I thought about every girl/woman I knew
of that had a baby without a husband, or had no insurance, or had six kids she
couldn’t afford. Then the guilt started. I felt so guilty for being angry at
God for allowing people who I thought were less fortunate than me have
something that I thought I was better off having than they were. This was certainly
a wakeup call for me and my self-wallowing.

Who am I to judge people who get pregnant in less than ideal situations? Those
pregnancies and children were probably the greatest things that ever happened
to some of those women. I never judged girls like that before and I surely
shouldn’t have judged them then. I got over myself and apologized to God for
being so outrageous. I think he forgave me, as we have carried on the banter
since my period in February. I told him in my prayers to forgive me, that *somebody*
almighty created women and their bodies which resulted in brief, crazy ass acts
of insanity each month and he returns the joke each month with, “oh let’s go 30
days this time, and throw in a 28er next time just for kicks”.

Well, today starts a brand new cycle for my household. I am much less intense about
getting pregnant and am *trying* to not stress about “that female mess” that I
woke up with this morning. Besides, I have a good 14 days until “full-flower” ;)

(PS-I apologize that my blog looks so "choppy". I write it in Word and copy & paste into the blogger word processor. Haven't yet mastered the formatting...)