Assorted Uterine Topics

Hello Beloved Readers!

Time to talk uteri. Menstruation in particular. Ew, right? Nope. The more we talk about things the more we normalize them. The more we normalize them the more we can talk honestly and ask for help and learn from one another. Those of us who have had babies in the family know that one tiny little person can turn you from "One only discusses poop with one's doctor" to "HELP CAN YOU TELL ME HOW TO GET BABY DIARRHEA OUT OF A MICROSUEDE COUCH!?!?!" I'm using my bizarre brain/mouth filter for the greater good. So I'm talking period, period. (Tee hee.)

Right, so, two months before I turned 40, just to rub it in, my period got all "random mode" on me. I'm told this is perimenopause. Oh, then I'll ask my mom, she'll know. Except to get my mom to admit that something is uncomfortable you pretty much have to saw something off. (Please don't test this theory.) So when I asked her about it, she didn't remember. She has an absurdly detailed memory, so this probably means it didn't rate her attention. Fair enough. My sister is three years older. I can't honestly remember whether I've asked her or not, but either we somehow think of more interesting things to discuss when we find we have more than five minutes together without my kids, or she didn't have any helpful feedback on the topic. I actually got the most useful information from the receptionist at work, who, bless her, does not appear to have complained to my supervisor for me asking. And by useful, I mean, "Yup, that's how it went for me. Welcome." She actually said welcome, with a sort of bemused expression. I wanted to hug her. But I didn't. Which is probably why she didn't bother to file a complaint. So anyway, there's one topic I think should get discussed more.

Next one. Menstrual maintenance, I'll call it. I hate tampons. Freaking hate them. Totally eff up my biochemistry, expensive and wasteful, stinky, and after three in a day get rather uncomfortable to insert, and blah blah blah. Well, after a while cloth diapering, it occurred to me, hey, they make this stuff for menstruation. I got jealous of (then) Robert's fuzzy, colorful diapers, as compared to my funky, plasticky pads. So I decided to go a-Googling. Now, there are a bunch of options here. Luna Pads. Others. I have a lovely fleece one made by a work at home mama, but it's too bulky for anything but bedtime. GladRags is the one commercially available brand I found that I'm convinced has NO synthetics in it, which is my preference because it's the most breathable. So those are working well for me. And. DIVA CUP! Yes, that's in this hilarious video. It's a pretty simple idea. It collects the menstrual effluent and holds it there until you empty it. Wait what? How is that better than a tampon for breathing? Yeah I was worried about that, but it is. I theorize that it's because (1) it's nonabsorbent, so it doesn't monkey with the particular balance of fluids in your vagina, and (2) the effluent was in there anyway, so as long as you take it out and rinse it off as frequently as the package suggests you aren't introducing any real problems. Well how do you rinse it off in a stall at work? Either (1) you don't, you just empty it, put it back, and rinse it next time, or (2) pee on it. Yep. Pee is sterile, unless you are ill. They don't suggest that in the instructions but I tried it sort of out of curiosity and it seems to work. So if THAT doesn't make me a hippie freak, I'm obviously immune to the diagnosis. And anyway each month when I'm done I wash it with soap and then boil it for five minutes.

So when Jackie reaches "maturity" (snort) and it's time to start teaching her how to use all this stuff? I'm totally starting with cloth. We live in Portland and that's hopefully a good decade off, so by then it'll be so normal none of the girls in the locker room will tease her. HA! Good one. Well screw 'em. I'm raising my kids to think for them damn selves. Which probably means she'll tell me to go see a shrink and go running for the Tampax.

Okay so there's that topic. Maybe I'll think of something more tasteful for next post. Snicker. Don't hold your breath.

Much love always,
Suzi

Addendum: Okay so this wound up being wildly popular on my Facebook feed, and demonstrated that I need to share more about the Diva cup.

One interesting feature is it has volume measurements on it, so you can see how much flow you produce on a given day. If you are a data nerd raised by scientists, this is fascinating. If you are worried about your cycle for some reason, this is reassuring. If not, it's harmless.

Also the first few months I used the Diva cup I swear it made me fart more. Most likely in the process of either putting in the cup or chasing after it, I was pushing bubbles or other material the wrong way in the nearby rectum. Harmless, not a problem, don't let it scare you away, but an amusing side effect that I don't think was mentioned in the little leaflet in the box.

Someone mentioned that it can interfere with an IUD. It shouldn't, according to the website and what anecdotal evidence I have access to.


One thing I think freaks people out about a Diva Cup (or non-applicator tampons for that matter) is sticking their fingers up their vagina. Um. There are a bazillion reasons to get okay with this. Fun reasons, health reasons, figuring out when to try to have a baby reasons, figuring out what's going on while you're growing a baby reasons, and just because it's part of your body - are you scared of reaching into your mouth to get a seed out from between your teeth? But I think this may be a topic for broader discussion at a later date.

Lastly, another friend said her 14 year old LOVES GladRags, so I shan't give up hope...

Even more love,
Suzi

I will be okay.

I wrote a poem. I'm fairly ignorant about these things but it's what was on my heart. So here it is.
Love,
Suzi

I will be okay.

I’m always okay again, eventually.

Not because everything was fine.

But because I kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Not because it didn’t hurt.

Because I believed it would hurt a little less each day.

Not because I wasn’t sad.

But because I was brave.

Let me cry.

Let me rage.

Let me fear.

Let me wonder.

You may hold me

You may comfort me

You may offer me your sympathy and understanding.

But do not try to stop me.

Do not try to take away my anguish.

Let me feel.

Or get out of the way.

Without these feelings there is no joy.

To feel joy I must feel grief, anger, fear, hurt, doubt.

Without these I cannot love.

To have faith I must allow doubt and move forward anyway.

To love I must allow myself to be hurt.

Not to be mortally wounded.

Not to sit defenseless while I am abused.

I will care for myself.

I can take care of myself.

I can leave if I need to.

I do not need you.

I simply want you.

I must allow myself the risk of hurt

To allow myself the possibility of love.

I will trust you

Because I trust myself.

I am strong.

I am brave.

I will be okay.

Therefore, I can love.