"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of cramps--and cups--and menstrual belts--
Of birth control--and rings--
And why her temper is boiling hot--
And whether pads have wings."
I know I have cursed her many times as she rolled up my drive in her claret colored rag top but I really do love Aunt Flo.
See, I've been thinking about my period a lot lately. Several weeks ago I stopped taking birth control because I just wasn't comfortable with the fact that I only have a true period once every three months or so. My plan was to go without contraceptives until I had a natural period at which time I would happily hop back on the pill.
Luckily, Jake is a pretty great boyfriend and was very supportive of my plan. Not, of course, that it would have mattered much if he disagreed but it's certainly better to be supported than not. When we finally left Raja's apartment yesterday, I had a moment alone to tell him that the mini temper tantrum I threw when I found out he had put my purse in my car rather than Raja's (the car we took to lunch) was because I felt that I would be getting my period within hours and wanted to have the essential accouterments at hand and the "stomach ache" that came on after lunch was the arrival of said period. Upon hearing that I had started he gave a little shout, "Yay! You got your period!" which I, at first, took to mean, "Yay! No more condoms!" (because, let's face it - condoms suck) but that's not what he meant at all. I was finally - as absolutely weird as my desire might seem and how...common it is - having a natural period.
Last week I went to my family doctor to refill the two anti-depressants I pop daily due to Aunt Flo. I also asked her to refill my birth control because I haven't found a new ob/gyn since moving back to Dayton (and while I liked my former doctor, I didn't care one bit for her staff - I never dreaded the examinations, I dreaded every thing leading up to it). Actually, I didn't ask her to refill it - I asked her to put me on something else because I wasn't having regular periods.
"Why do you want to have a period?" Dr. C said in that very blunt way she has of speaking (don't get me wrong - I like her very much but she's very matter of fact).
I shrugged, "I like having a period." I didn't want to get all womyn-y about it because that's not it at all but after stumbling for words to explain why I liked having a period I finally said, "It lets me know I'm not pregnant." I mean, after all, physician Sir William Osler once referred to the menstrual flow as "the tears of a disappointed uterus."
She agreed that it's nice to go without that stress but explained that there are birth control pills out there that assure only four periods a year. Well, yeah, I know that and that's great but...maybe I want to see my period more than four times a year. It's a cycle that my body wants to have once a month (even though it's a false cycle due to the fact that I take the Pill but never the less) - it keeps me in touch with me.
Besides, the pill that I'm currently on - that I didn't want refilled - was something new that my Columbus ob/gyn had me try - one that I'd never discussed with him so I think part of my discomfort was a bit of , "Okay, is this pill supposed to make me irregular?" I mean, this is the man who, when I said I eventually wanted to get pregnant, put me on prenatal vitamins (which I never took). I wasn't actively trying to get pregnant and was on the Pill and Dustin and I hadn't even been dating all that long. He also chastised my weight and said I needed to stop drinking milk or I'd get even fatter (okay, those weren't his exact words but that really was the gist of it) - even though I drink skim and my mother has problems with calcium deficiency.
But that's neither here nor there.
I can understand why Dr. C didn't want to give me a new prescription. I mean, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. And I'm sure my want to have a monthly period sounded kind of silly. Perhaps if I could have stated my side in words more than, "I like having a period," I might have walked out of that room with something other than a prescription for what I had already been taking but I didn't.
So I'm going back to infrequent visits with Aunt Flo. Considering the cramps I suffered earlier this evening, I should be happy about that but I don't mind. I've known grandmothers who cried when their granddaughters got their first period because it's a monthly bother that she'll have to live with for thirty or so odd years. I don't feel that way. My body is taking care of itself and this is one of many ways - perhaps not as pretty as a scab or blister which isn't saying much - of showing it.
My sincerest apologies to Lewis Carroll.
