World War V

My lady parts and I have always gotten along rather well. I mean as well as you can get along with a part of your body that forces you to endure a monthly mini blood bath while tiny ninjas attack your muscles. I’ve treated her well and she’s been kind to me. I’ve never dealt with any icky infections or funny smells. I’ve always kept her well groomed and never made her endure any uncomfortable fabrics or unnecessarily restricting clothing resulting in the all too familiar “camel toe”. But recently, I’d say in the last 7 years, my hoohaa and I haven’t been seeing eye to eye so to speak. We have been on distinctly different pages. Actually I’m not even sure we are in the same book anymore. She’s been ruining more pairs of shorts and pants than I or my wallet would like. Let me go back, way back……

When I was 23 I experienced my first miscarriage. I was a young wife. I was devastated. I couldn’t figure out how a perfectly healthy person who didn’t really engage in any sort of self destructive behavior could not do something as natural as carry a child to term. It was easily the most painful and gory 3 days of my life up to that point. I became resentful towards my hoohaa. It wasn’t doing what it should have been doing. It never occurred to me that perhaps it was doing what it should have been doing. But I was young and crushed. I began the search for a birth control after that. The pill wreaked havoc on my body. The Depo shot gave me a 6 month period. The ring was just gross and weird. My hoohaa made it abundantly clear that none of these would be tolerated. She had drawn her line in the sand. Drawn it with blood. (Cue dramatic music). She thought she was calling the shots. And she may have been right.

Then a few years later I introduced her to my now husband. They clearly hit it off. And then he knocked me up. And she got resentful. She no longer allowed him the free reign access he had once been given. Often times I equated it to trying to surf the Sahara…can you say OUCH!! As my due date approached I had a sneaking suspicion she was going to pull a fast one on me, and oh boy was I right. She wasn’t having any of this natural birth nonsense. There was no way she was letting me push my child out of there. Because of my lady parts stubbornness I had to have a C-section. Well played uterus, well played. So now I was resentful. This seemed to be a theme. We took turns being resentful towards each other, although I feel like she manifested her resentment in a much more tangible and sartorial way, seeing as there was really nothing I could do about mine.

After baby was born, I had hoped that things would return to normal…..oh was I mistaken. Now her monthly rendition of the Shining was even more intense. Man she is a vengeful girl. As time went by, it somewhat subsided, but I was always painfully aware of our cycle, almost like she was taunting me to dare to have another child.

And then one fateful day it happened. I was pregnant again. By now our Bean is 6, so that’s quite a time span for my hoohaa to relax and get comfortable again. Well apparently she was really comfortable. She wanted nothing to do with this pregnancy. Unfortunately I experienced another miscarriage, and this time she was so spiteful that I had to undergo surgery to remove the products of conception. She was holding them hostage! Well in all her stubbornness she didn’t think about the aftermath. HA! Invasive surgery? Child’s play. 2 weeks of bleeding? She brought this on herself. She couldn’t possibly have anything left for a period for at least a month……right? WRONG I got 2 weeks of a sanguine sabbatical and then Aunt Flo reared her unpleasant head again. Seriously?! 2 weeks? How am I not dead yet? How was my body able to even produce enough blood for a period after 2 weeks of steady bleeding? I already have unnaturally low blood pressure; I can only imagine what it was then. Even now, several weeks later a nurse had to take my BP 3 times yesterday.
Ah yesterday. The day I hopefully put an end to this blood feud between me and my girly parts…pun intended. In an effort to never have to relive the horror or stress of another miscarriage I explored the many options of birth control I had not already tried. The hubs and I decided on a non-hormonal IUD-Para guard. Apparently these things are easier to implant if you’re on your period. Bloody Hell. Literally. I suspect this reason is so you don’t notice the added bleeding and cramping from the relatively short process of having your cervix opened and a little T shaped copper wire implanted in there. Whatever, small price to pay at this point. This was my ultimate revenge, my coup d’etat, my Hail Mary. She makes me endure 2 periods in a month; I’m putting something in there that could quite possibly (hopefully) eliminate that monthly unwelcome guest for at least the next 10 years.

Now on a side note, I realize that this will also prevent pregnancy for the next 10 years. And I’m totally okay with that. There is no rule or law stating that I have to have more than one child. No one told me they had to come in sets. My bean takes all of my energy. I am a working mom, a household CEO/CFO, a wife and I’m about to be a student again. Honestly, while I’m bummed about our miscarriage, I’m also relieved. I couldn’t imagine this juggling act with another child. D and I are already exhausted all the time.

Although I will really miss being able to threaten the hubs with the line “I started my day in a pool of blood, is that how you’d like to end yours?” hehehehehehe

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