on bleeding and life-giving

Ok, I lied.  I said I would finish whatever I wanted to write about my week in Illinois this past weekend--not for any particular reason, just because my brain liked how neat and tidy that would be.  Finish that one train before jumping into my usual stream of consciousness blogging.  Except it turns out the things left to say are not little things--not snippets.  They are big things, like homeschooling, and marriage, and breastfeeding and spiritual growth.  So I guess I will just let go of my need for tidiness here in this blog--because, really, why should my blog be any different than all the other facets of my happily untidy life?--and jump right on in to the swing of life as it is now.

And at this exact now, the pendulum of life has swung to that time of the month.
(so, no more snippets, but loads of TMI ahead)

This is a sorta big deal for me, since I have not had a period for. . . (counting on fingers. . . resorting to paper and pencil. . . ) 33 months.  Almost three years.  And I truly enjoyed being without periods, so am only reluctantly welcoming them back into my life. 

Welcome back.  We loathe and are embarassed by periods when we are teenagers, dismayed at the treachery of our bodies that would make us ache and stink and break out every month, and give any notion of premarital sex an ominous weight.  Then when we are women, more attuned to our bodies, to the give-and-take of pleasure and sacrifice and rhythm and blood, we are much more accepting of our menstrual cycles.  We are like little heathens, our bodies connected to the moon, to the earth, to loam and musk--fresh-bodied still, our spirits and flesh much more loosely bound.  The most heathen of us anticipating the blood rite with eagerness, with dread, with despair, then with relief and celebration as the spin of the roulette wheel once more chooses liberty, and the slow decay. We get practical about the mechanics of our monthly rituals, and even flippant, or if we are lucky, transparent about it all with a lover with whom we are safe.

When we have matured a little more in our sexuality, feeling a fullness of body, a readiness, a restlessness for achieving life, our periods take on a whole new weight.  They no longer represent inconvenience, uncomfortableness, awkwardness;  instead, they represent a cycle of life to which we are now drawn, in which we hope and trust with desire and awe.  Suddenly, sex takes on a spiritual weight, our bodies and spirits pulled together by awareness and longing--we are vulnerable, and beautifully so, as with our lover   we seek to make love tangible, physical, in a new little body into which we expect to pour forth all our joy and by which multiply our joy further.

And then, when motherhood is no longer about anticipating but immersion, when our bodies are no longer young and ripe but worn and dried out, when our spirits are weighed by the daily toil of loving those little bodies, little beings--then . . . ?

That's as far as I have gotten on this walk--I am not sure how the story ends.  But as you can tell, since two days ago I have been conscious of entering a new stage in my sexual/fertile life, and I am not sure how it will be defined, what it will hold.

But yesteday, in "celebration," I took the day off.  I knew it was coming--had warning signals for several days.  Night before last I knew it would be yesterday, and so I mapped the day all out:  stay in pj's all day, lay around as much as possible, eat whatever chocolate happens to be on hand. (Which, to my complete dissatisfaction, was NONE.  Next month I'm planning ahead.)  The girls and I did school, but it was a slow and easy day, more keeping up momentum than actually having goals to accomplish.  I actually did way more than I intended to--some necessary yardwork, and cooking for both lunch and dinner (again, next month I'm planning ahead), but I also allowed myself to not do a few other things that really needed doing, like vacuum and do laundry.

And, really, it was not that bad of a day. Cramp wise, I mean. On one hand, this could just mean my body is being a little slower to get back with the game now that I am so advanced in age, but the bad cramps will still come by next month.  OR if things are really starting to slow down, my body slowly shutting down its productivity, then maybe the cramps won't come back with such a vengenance ever again.  That alone would certainly make me look at periods much more affectionately.  Ah, poor tired ovaries, you've done good, girls, your run is nearly through.  Ah, my dear uterus, whose thick, rich nourishment I always distained, and yet which grew and held my babies strong and healthy--your showing this first month is but a wan reminder of your past vibrance, vitality, and my abundant fecundity, which I have taken for granted all these years. 

It is nice to be now at a place of feeling affection for my body like this.  When I was young, my body and I were most definately at odds; for several years the cramps and overall ill-feeling were so harsh I even threw up once a month.  Ugh.  I am very fortunate that my parents had sympathy, and let me stay home from school on those days.  But still, I remember days when I had something important I needed to do after school, like audition for a play, and so had to stick it out all day. . . and yes, even hurling at school, at least once in that exact same bathroom featured two posts earlier (first stall on the right--ah, memories).  And then, when I was in college a gynocologist told me about A*naprox (now available over the counter as A*leve, which, yes, it does).  If you have bad cramps and have not yet discovered the magic of A*leve, please let me urge you to try it out as quickly as possible.  No other pain killers come close.  But I must also confess that I have always doubled the recommended dose, to meet the dose prescribed for me, which is NOT medical advice, so always talk to your doctor before doing any drugs (does that phrase cover me from lawsuit?), but definitely ask him if you can try upping your A*naprox if you are wanting to feel the magic.

Yesterday I didn't need any pain meds.  The cramps, like I said, were not bad, and they reminded me oh so vaguely of post-partum cramps, which I actually always enjoyed (well, after the first day when I felt likeI was going to vomit or pass out from their intensity) because they reassured me after each baby that my uterus was doing what it could to reduce my distended belly back to what would be "the new normal."  And these cramps were such a pale imitation of what my periods used to be, that every ache in my back and abdomen was a positive reminder of how great this was in comparison.  And I remembered too, nostalgically and a little awed, how those heavy periods and horrible cramping had meant there were some serious baby-making hormones at work, and organs eager to do their job. 
And, yes, I have been quite fertile.  Proof is on my sidebar--but that is not even the half of it. Seriously.  Once we decided to try for our first child, I think it took us a few months to get pregnant.  But no more than 3, and that includes the time my body was re-adjusting from being on the pill.  When our first baby, Sunny, was about 16 months old, we decided we would like to have a second child, but did not want them to be too far apart in age, and knew it might take a while to get pregnant (in theory), so I actually weaned Sunny completely so that I would resume ovulation and menstruation and we could try for a second.  My body jumped into overdrive big time--and I started having two periods a month!  Well, at least I had three periods in a month and a half, and then I got pregnant.

Years later, once again I ended up weaning our second, Merry, at 18 months, and once again my body kicked into overdrive, and the exact same things happened.  By this point we had figured out that fertility was not an issue for us.  We also realized we still had our senses of humor, which is fortunate for my death-defying Dear Husband, who, during my third period in two months, listened to me griping about something and then asked with mock concern, "Oh, is it that time of the two weeks again?" 

When I weaned our third child, Happy, I am pretty sure my body was wacko at the start, but this time I did not pay it any mind, except to be glad whenever I had a period because--as I have mentioned before--we did not think we wanted any more kids.  So, it took a while longer, what with the various methods of birth control we were using and all, at which God must have just looked and chuckled, but a short while later we ended up with Smiley.  And now, here we are in this strange spot--feeling really, truly blessed and submitted to God in this area of life, and yet feeling done with our family, and not having any clue what that will look or feel like.

So the blood yesterday, today, brings up so many emotions, so many memories, such strong fears and hopes for our future.  I do welcome it, as symbolic of this journey I am on in body and mind and spirit, and give it over to God, along with the fears and hopes.  I feel like He and I are embarking upon a stage in the journey even bigger than where we have walked before, and while it is a journey with my husband, it is even more a journey of MySelf, walking in faith. 

You brave (and not easily offended/made queasy) readers who have made it through this post--you have my sincere admiration.  Thanks for coming along. 


Coming soon. . . the complete Blessed restrospective of child-birth and lactation!  ; )