After just finishing one of the most painful, life-interrupting menstrual periods of my life, I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be a woman.
Last weekend I got a total of about 4 hours of sleep, thanks to the nighttime spasms in my uterus, otherwise known as cramps. I was up for most of Friday night tossing and turning, but eventually a heating pad calmed them down enough for me to doze off at last. But Saturday night was just unbearable. I woke up at 2am (after going to bed at 1, thanks to my band's gig). I tossed, turned, writhed in pain, laid in every possible position, did yoga, drank tea, took medicine, walked around the house, did sit-ups - nothing worked. Finally, at 5am, crying, I called the 24 hour medical advice line for my health insurance. I felt so stupid calling for cramps, this female condition that many think is just psychosomatic. But I didn't know what else to do. I had never had pain like this. They told me to come in to their late-night clinic (sort of like an ER). After a hunched-over, moan-filled drive, I arrived, was promptly given a shot of painkillers in the ass, and slept in the doctor's bed until the pharmacy opened at 8am.
But this really got me thinking. What is this thing that happens to us females every month? As I sat on the toilet, watching the thick, red stream drip from me and blend with the clear water below, I couldn't help but see it as wasted baby potential. Another month of procreation down the drain - literally. Women go through this cycle every month of a rising possibility of offspring followed by a shedding of that hope, just to start it all again.
I am especially thinking about what this means culturally. Our bodies haven't changed for centuries - ever since women walked the earth, I assume. We do this each month. But there was a time when there was no such thing as birth control. Women just had sex and got pregnant when they got pregnant. This was probably at a time when they were living in villages or communities where there was more help to care for this large brood of children. But what does this monthly possibility of conception mean for an independent 21st century woman? I don't really want babies right now - I know that. I am hardly in a place where children would be practical. I don't have a husband anymore, my boyfriend already has 2 kids of his own and lots of other priorities in addition to me right now. I live with a bunch of single girls, have a more-than-full-time job, barely make enough money to support myself, live in a crazy non-child-raising part of the city, and want to keep travelling and exploring the world before I sit down and have babies. But my body doesn't listen to that. It doesn't know that. It still releases an egg every month and sends me a loud, strong message that says "You should be having a baby! You want a baby! Here is an egg for your baby! Go find a sperm and make a baby! Baby, baby, baby!" Any woman will tell you this is true. The female body speaks to us in this way, I swear. Then the egg passes. The possibility for fertilization is lost, and the desire for offspring goes along with it. Then we shake our heads as if waking from a dream and say, "What was that about? Did I just say I wanted a baby?"
Last weekend I got a total of about 4 hours of sleep, thanks to the nighttime spasms in my uterus, otherwise known as cramps. I was up for most of Friday night tossing and turning, but eventually a heating pad calmed them down enough for me to doze off at last. But Saturday night was just unbearable. I woke up at 2am (after going to bed at 1, thanks to my band's gig). I tossed, turned, writhed in pain, laid in every possible position, did yoga, drank tea, took medicine, walked around the house, did sit-ups - nothing worked. Finally, at 5am, crying, I called the 24 hour medical advice line for my health insurance. I felt so stupid calling for cramps, this female condition that many think is just psychosomatic. But I didn't know what else to do. I had never had pain like this. They told me to come in to their late-night clinic (sort of like an ER). After a hunched-over, moan-filled drive, I arrived, was promptly given a shot of painkillers in the ass, and slept in the doctor's bed until the pharmacy opened at 8am.
But this really got me thinking. What is this thing that happens to us females every month? As I sat on the toilet, watching the thick, red stream drip from me and blend with the clear water below, I couldn't help but see it as wasted baby potential. Another month of procreation down the drain - literally. Women go through this cycle every month of a rising possibility of offspring followed by a shedding of that hope, just to start it all again.
I am especially thinking about what this means culturally. Our bodies haven't changed for centuries - ever since women walked the earth, I assume. We do this each month. But there was a time when there was no such thing as birth control. Women just had sex and got pregnant when they got pregnant. This was probably at a time when they were living in villages or communities where there was more help to care for this large brood of children. But what does this monthly possibility of conception mean for an independent 21st century woman? I don't really want babies right now - I know that. I am hardly in a place where children would be practical. I don't have a husband anymore, my boyfriend already has 2 kids of his own and lots of other priorities in addition to me right now. I live with a bunch of single girls, have a more-than-full-time job, barely make enough money to support myself, live in a crazy non-child-raising part of the city, and want to keep travelling and exploring the world before I sit down and have babies. But my body doesn't listen to that. It doesn't know that. It still releases an egg every month and sends me a loud, strong message that says "You should be having a baby! You want a baby! Here is an egg for your baby! Go find a sperm and make a baby! Baby, baby, baby!" Any woman will tell you this is true. The female body speaks to us in this way, I swear. Then the egg passes. The possibility for fertilization is lost, and the desire for offspring goes along with it. Then we shake our heads as if waking from a dream and say, "What was that about? Did I just say I wanted a baby?"
2 comments:
Oh Mel, I feel for you. I remember begging my mom to let me stay home from school when I had my period because they were so bad. It's so weird because now, I haven't had a normal period in...three years I think because I've either been pregnant or breastfeeding! I have to admit, it's been great! But seeing as this is probably the last biological for us (we want to adopt), it will back to cramps and periods!
I hate it when that stupid egg starts talking to me! SHUT UP EGG! I'll show you...
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