10/23/2025
A bit of an emotional vent today from yours truly.
TLDR (by the way this means ‘To Long Didn’t Read): I hate that I have had to have a period every month for decades knowing I wouldn’t be using any of it; my eggs, ovaries, uterus etc none of it. It will all just cause problems and pain. And it’s not because they don’t work, but because it it would devistate me if I knowing the risks, still had a kid and gave them all my s**t.
I don’t know man, the more I learn about perimenopause; the more I go “That’s happening to me because of menopause!?” the more I wanna throw hands. What I’m trying to say is: the more I learn, the more upset I get. That’s not strong enough… the more fu***ng livid I am.
I first got my period in 7th grade, I was 12. My mom had had ‘that talk’ and prepped me already, so I knew it was coming. My body was physically ready to start my family. I was excited in a weird way. I had always known I was born to be a mom and I was one (very important step!) closer to that dream.
I’m 42 now. That’s 30 years of periods (so far). On my 20th bday I had a routine appointment that Clayton took me to. It unexpectedly turned towards having kids since Clayton was there and we were pretty serious by then. Clayton had reached over to hold my hand; looking back, I think he knew what the doc was about to say. The doctor then proceeded to unceremoniously tell us flatly that under no circumstance should I reproduce. That was 8 years after my period started. I got 8 years where my period meant the same as every one else’s: your body is physically ready to start your family. I was a teenager for every one of those periods. Not prime kid planning year lol
Insert 28 years of every month having a literal painful reminder, extra spicy because of the endometriosis, that I will never be pregnant and I will never use all my mom parts for mom things like doing the deed and wondering if we just made a baby, no anticipation of waiting after p*eing on a stick, no jumping up and down crying in the bathroom over a positive result, no planning and recording telling Clayton (if I took the test without him), no feeling my baby grow and move inside me, no listening to the heartbeat, no ultrasounds of baby, no finding out the gender during an ultrasound(although Sara took me to hers so I could experience finding out the s*x with her!I love you bitch) no rubbing my belly protectively, no middle of the night chats with my belly, no gory/painful/funny/whlsome labor stories, no breast feeding (this killed me more than I was prepared for).
And NOW! After 28 years of that… I get 10-15 years of so much worse! Still have the monthly(ish) reminder of all of the above, but now it’s like… with jazz hands. I cry constantly, I pick fights on purpose all while thinking “why are you doing this!? Stop it woman!” All while adding to the never ending surprise list of awful and weird symptoms of perimenopause that no one told me. No one prepares you for this stage. It’s fu***ng hard man.
I dunno… I’m just rambling I feel like so imma just go ✌🏿
