stupid, stupid, stupid

Yesterday I was feeling so great that I puttered around the house, doing a bit of laundry, loading the dishwasher, cooking myself some breakfast. I was really careful not to lift anything too heavy. However, I had forgotten that there were some restrictions about the stairs--only once or twice a day. I was up and down, like, 15 times. Oops. Boy am I feeling it now. Last night I was in pain and had increased bleeding of my stitches. Today I'm really swollen and achy, but I do feel better. I guess that's one way to learn. So I'm behaving myself really well today, which is quite boring. Ugh.

a symphony of movement

Goal #2 for the day--accomplished!

holy hormones, batman!

Apparently, ovaries go into shock after a hysterectomy.  Their blood supply is affected when the uterine arteries are disconnected, and they no longer have the hormonal mother ship (the uterus itself) to communicate with.  Typically, they resume functioning after a couple months.  Meanwhile, omg!  Yesterday my hormones hit me like a hurricane.  I was achy and had a difficult day.  No one in my family came to check on me except for when Ben woke up in the morning.  At 2:00, I had to remind him that he said he would make me lunch.  It's like I was invisible for the whole day.  My teenage children are supposed to be focusing on me, but I think they forgot about me.  So I burst into tears in the middle of the kitchen (ironically, while Matt was cooking our dinner) and announced that no one loved me as much as I deserved and asked how the people I had carried beneath my heart for so many months could be so heartless in return.  (Even I had to roll my eyes at myself.)  They all came and gave me hugs and told me how much they loved me and would take care of me and all rolled their eyes at each other when they thought I wouldn't see.

Today's projects:

1. Try to channel my hormonal outbursts in more productive ways (i.e., thinking ahead of time about what I want to have happen so they do what I want out of guilt).
2. Poop.  Yes, this is TMI, but I still have Christmas dinner inside me and it's time.  I think today's my lucky day.  With the new-found space inside me, my intestines are trying to rearrange myself and haven't yet figured out how to function again.

recovery

I can't believe the surgery is finally over.  The day of the surgery was quite difficult.  I vomited quite a few times throughout the day, due to either the general anesthesia or the morphine--and this was with the anti-nausea meds.  The nurses didn't even try to get me up and to the bathroom until around midnight.  I made it there, almost fainted, and then threw up.  So the catheter stayed with me for a while.  By 4 am I was able to walk all the way to the bathroom and back to the bed, and when I could do it again at 6 we removed the catheter.  It was amazing how much better I felt from one day to the next.  I was able to go home by 10:30 the morning after surgery.  Now I'm 3 days post-op.  I'm achier today than I was yesterday, but that's normal as the general anesthesia works its way out of my system.

I didn't nap yesterday or today, so I hope I can sleep well tonight.

tomorrow's the big day

Wow.  I actually think I'm ready for my surgery tomorrow.  I got the last bunch of grades calculated yesterday, and that was a huge relief.  I've been second-guessing the surgery a lot, alternating between wondering about all the other things that might be causing the pelvic pain and having days and weeks with no pain at all.  As a Christmas gift, I had the surgery decision validated.  I started cramping in church at Christmas Eve service, and the pain was so bad (8 on a 10-point scale) that I couldn't get to sleep.  I finally took Darvocet and it helped enough to get me to sleep, but I've been having cramping pains all day so far.  Strangely, this is really what I needed to have today.  I'll be glad when the surgery was over, and I'm glad to have it confirmed that it's needed.

Merry Christmas!

dumb boys

The other night, my 16-year old son and his friends decided to go snowboarding.  In their boxers.  Why?  "I thought it would be awesome.  It wasn't."

slouching toward surgery

Having made my decision to have a hysterectomy, I've been able to let go of most of the anxiety about it all.  The past several weeks have been pretty good.  I've been cutting  back on caffeine, drinking more water, sleeping better, coping better with stress, etc.  In fact, I've had almost no gynecological pain for several weeks.  I was starting to second guess my surgery.  What if all I needed to do was cut caffeine and stress and increase water intake?  After all, those things contribute to labor.  Why wouldn't they contribute to non-pregnant uterine contractions?  Even sex wasn't triggering pain (although I would feel crampy and uncomfortable).

I had my pre-op with the doctor Tuesday.  The actual appointment was pretty simple. While I sat in the waiting room, I read and signed all the consent forms. I had to sign 3 or 4 pieces of paper to acknowledge my understanding that I would not be able to become pregnant and various other things that said I'd received various pamphlets and other information. Once I got back to the exam room, he did a quick pelvic exam to be sure he could grab my cervix as he would need to do for a vaginal procedure. Then my husband came back, and we talked. We looked at some pictures of female anatomy, and he used his hands to describe the creation of the vaginal cuff. We talked about the risks and how he would handle different things that might come up during the surgery. Mostly, we just had a conversation. I had done a lot of research already, so there were no surprises--but talking about it made it seem more real.

In the midst of our conversation, about 20 minutes after the pelvic exam, I could feel the cramping start.  Over the past two days, it has gotten bad.  Yesterday morning, I was light-headed at school.  Once I took some ibuprofen, I was no longer light-headed but I could feel the pain again.  I spent several hours today on my heating pad.  I'm quite relieved.  I know absolutely that it was the uterus that experienced the stimulus and triggered the pain, and this is a reminder to me of why I need the surgery.  I can't function like this.  So I'm in pain, but happy about it.

Three more weeks!

escape

How easy it must be to be a guy, to be able to pick up and head into the woods to camp or hunt or whatever without having to:

• worry about whether you're having a period
• be concerned about how/where you'll pee
• make sure the kids are being taken care of while you're playing
• clean up after yourself
• come home to a pile of work (i.e., laundry and dishes) that didn't get done because no one kept things running while you were gone
• wonder if you'll be able to veg out when you come home (since you're so tired from all that outdoor stuff) even though someone else has been home all day taking care of kids, laundry, cooking, cleaning, etc., etc., etc. and is tired, too

one night

For a total vaginal hysterectomy, I will get only one night in the hospital--and that's only because the surgery is scheduled for a Friday. Apparently, it's usually out-patient surgery with a home visit from a hospital nurse the following day. Since the nurses don't do the visits on Saturdays, I'll have a 23-hour observational stay. Somehow, this just doesn't sound like enough time.

December 26

It took nearly two weeks to get the bladder study results all the way (as in, 100 yards) to the doctor's office.  Finally, I was able to talk with the surgery scheduler today.  My doctor is available before December 18 or on January 7.  In order to finish up the semester and actually post final grades, I cannot have surgery before December 20.  However, January 7 puts me a little too close to the beginning of the spring semester, and I really want to minimize how much time I have to take off and make arrangements for other people to do my work.

It occurred to me to ask if there was another doctor in the practice who could do the surgery.  I've been a patient there for only 6 months, and although I like my doctor, I don't feel particularly attached to her.  So, I asked if it would be acceptable to ask if there was another doctor in the practice who could perform the surgery; if not, January 7 would have been acceptable.  I was very happy that there is, indeed, someone who can do it--on December 26.  This is perfect.  It lets me get through finals, have some Christmas, and then have an entire month before the semester begins.  I'm a bit creeped out by the fact that this will be the first male gynecologist I've had since, oh, 1991, but I'm so very happy to now know when I'm having my surgery.

words that should never be written (so I'm repeating them here)

Perhaps I have a slightly morbid curiosity. I used to have a job stuffing dead birds, and my co-workers and I would play with the eyeballs and dissect the guts. After the twins were born, I was thrilled to be able to look at the placenta, which was really two placentas that had fused together. Two years ago, I was so thrilled with the pictures from the inside of my uterus that I tried to show them to all my friends and I'm still trying to figure out how I can display them. (They're absolutely beautiful.) And I was disappointed when my doctor said that I would not be able to see my own uterus after the surgery, although she did say she would take a picture of it for me.

So I went online to find a video of a hysterectomy being performed. The images were not particularly disturbing. However, the instructional video had words superimposed over the image--things like "Incise the peritoneal reflection" and "Clamp across the uterine vessels."

I discovered that I do actually have a limit when I saw these words: "Enter the vagina with a scalpel."

I have now heard everything

In all my gynecology-related web surfing, I still discover that I can be surprised.  I just now learned of a procedure called "g-spot enhancement."  http://www.bodynew.com/procs/vaginal/gspot/  I wonder what else I'm in the dark about gynecologically?

I got the blues in my belly

I was listening to a blues cd this morning, and one song started out with lyrics that really kicked me in the gut: "I got the blues in my belly, where there used to be some heat." It was one of those moments when a song really spoke to my soul. Obviously, I've been thinking a lot lately about the yet-to-be-scheduled hysterectomy, and I've been in a kind of mourning for my womb. This organ that was the source of so much joy in my life is now the source of sadness. So these words really got to me and made me think about how real and on-target the blues can be.

Turns out I was wrong, that I misheard it. The correct lyrics are "I got the blues in my bedroom, where there used to be some heat." Bummer. That's a totally different subject. I like my version better

faint with dignity

I did not die of embarrassment.  I did, however, faint from feeling of the catheter inserted.  After that, I forgot to worry about everything else and lay there, exposed to all the medical folks, munching on my post-fainting saltines and sipping on my apple juice through a bendy straw.  They got the information they needed about my bladder, and I spent all evening curled up in bed, too wiped out to even watch tv or read or be on the computer.

there is such a thing as too much information

After the last pregnancy, my bladder stopped being all it could be.  When the doctor and I were talking about the hysterectomy, I said, "Say, while you're in the neighborhood, is there anything you can do about my bladder?"  So now I have to have a bladder study done tomorrow.  With all the other medical procedures I've had during the past couple years, I've found it very helpful to go online and read the detailed information so I know what to expect.  I really don't like to be surprised.

Big mistake in this case.  I read about catheters, probes, urinating in front of people, and, depending on what they find, the possibility of having a monitor inserted into the rectum while having the clitoris pinched.  (Seriously--what does that tell anyone about the bladder??!!!)  I was dreading the test anyway, because having a too-full bladder is one of the things that typically triggers several days of discomfort and pain, but I may just die of embarrassment first before the pain ever kicks in.

Once the test results are sent to the doctor, she'll be able to figure out what she needs to do once she's inside and can estimate the length of time for the surgery--and that needs to be done before we can schedule anything.  After tomorrow, I don't think I'll ever be the same.

evening at the college fair

One of the things I get to do in my life as a woman is be a mom.  Currently, I am mom to three teenagers.  Several weeks ago, I took my high school junior to a college fair.  Then I came home and wrote a play about our evening.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Act I: Before dinner



Mom: Matt, we're going to a college fair tonight.

Matt: Mom, you have got to stop forcing me to do stuff! (scowl)

Mom: Maybe you'll get some ideas about what the possibilities are. And I'll buy you a soda on the way home.

Matt: I don't know what I want to do. I have no idea what I want to do or what kind of school I want to go to. Since you're making such a big deal out of it, I'll go, but we have to leave by 7:15.

Act II: At the College Fair

Mom: Fine. You come with me and we'll pick things up from as many tables as we can.

Matt: Fine. But I'm not interested in any of these places. I don't want to have to talk to anyone. There are too many people at that table. It's too crowded. And there's hardly anyone at that table. Must be a stupid school.

Mom: Just come with me. I'll do all the talking and will try not to refer to you at all.

Matt: You've already been to, like, 10 tables. Can we go yet?

Mom: You pick three more schools and get the information, and then we'll leave and get the soda I bribed you with to come tonight.

Matt: Can't you pick them? I don't know where I want to go. And I don't know where I don't want to go, either, so I don't know why you're telling me to pick stuff from a place I don't want to go. What a dumb idea.


Act III: Later, on the way home

Matt: I think I'd like to major in computer sciences, not in the digital arts stuff like they have at Parkside but definitely something like what Mr. M------- does. I think maybe Stout or Michigan Tech. What kind of grades do I need? Do you think I'll do okay on my ACT? Hey, I already have some AP credits, don't I? I don't want to be somewhere with huge classes, but I don't want classes so small that all the teachers think they know me. I want a little bit of anonymity. Hey, I get all that stuff in your bag, right? I figured, hey, Mom's picking it up, so I won't be wasteful and get my own copy. Do you think we could get stuff like this from more schools?

Mom: Thanks for going along.

Matt: Mom, stop talking. I'm trying to tell you what I want to do with my life.


The End





Reviewer's comments: Definitely a thumb's up. The plot took forever to get going, but the hero of the story showed definite growth by the end of the play and I think we may have a good sequel. The Mom character becomes less relevant as the play progresses, but she's written wonderfully and is beautifully played.

freaking out

All of a sudden, I'm stressing over the hysterectomy.  In part, this is because I've been reading about the surgery and recovery.  I know that it will hurt much more than my c-section, although I am encouraged by the fact that I recovered so smoothly from that.  The other thing is, I'm starting to wonder how others will view me.  Is having a hysterectomy considered anti-feminist?  Yesterday, a colleague stopped by and wished me well on the surgery, but I felt like there was more that was being said.  Was it me?  Was it her?  Am I being brainwashed by the medical profession and what's seems easiest?  I don't know.  I just can't stand having this pain all the time.  Even when it isn't severe and it's just an achy discomfort, it's there.  It runs my life.  Two days ago, the doctor did a pelvic exam when I wasn't expecting one.  (Otherwise I would have taken four ibuprofen ahead of time to take the edge of the pain.)  So here I am, two days later, with occasional quick yet stabbing pains.  I cannot do this anymore.  I want a t-shirt to justify my decision.  Doesn't pro-choice mean this, too?

I spent half an hour yesterday searching for images of uteruses (uteri), just so I could tell my husband I was getting one of them tattooed on me.  Here's my favorite:

why I'm having it out

In some circles, there's great dismay about the idea of a hysterectomy.  On the fibroids group I've been part of, women are so concerned about hysterectomies being pushed by doctors that they are radically anti-hysterectomy at times.  I was adamantly opposed to me having a hysterectomy, so imagine my surprise when I went to the doctor and said that's what I thought I should have.

I've been dealing with severe pelvic pain for several years, caused by an overly sensitive uterus and triggered by small fibroid tumor growth. Although a hysterectomy is not the only solution for fibroids, the other procedures would not have been best in my case. I would either be left with serial fibroids, having one removed only to have another one arise in a year or two, or would have been left with a shrunken less substantial tumor that would still have triggered on-going discomfort.


I met with the doctor today. I was very concerned that I might feel the doctor was pressuring me to have a hysterectomy or that I was too closed-minded against hysterectomy to listen to good reasons. Over the weekend, I did a great deal of research and reading about fibroids, the treatment options, and hysterectomy. I came to my own conclusions that this is the right choice for me, which made the conversation with the doctor much more positive than it might have been.

We have not yet scheduled the surgery. I will have a medical test done in two weeks that will provide more specific information about certain aspects of the procedure. At that time, the doctor will know how long the surgery will take and we'll schedule it. We're looking at either right before Christmas or right after New Year's.

The doctor will attempt a vaginal hysterectomy, although there is a possibility she will need to do it abdominally instead due to something about how the uterus lies in me. She will leave the ovaries in me unless there are any adhesions that make that overly complicated. (Taking them out will slam me full-swing into menopause overnight and would require me to be on hormones.) She'll remove the cervix due to my recent experiences with dysplasia, which can potentially lead to cancer. I will still need to have pap tests every year due to the dysplasia on the vaginal wall. It's pretty straightforward, and it is considered one of the safest surgeries a woman can have.


It's a big decision, and once I'm past the recovery, my quality of life should improve a great deal. Oh, and she said it's really, really going to hurt, but she promised me good drugs.

decision

I've decided to have a hysterectomy.

when do you know?

I've been wondering--how do you know when it's time for a hysterectomy?  I've been seriously thinking about having one.  Over the past two years, I have read so much about the good reasons to keep a uterus.  I certainly don't want to have one if something else will work.  I've talked with women who have had hysterectomies, and many of the concerns I've had have not been problems for these women.

However--and there's always a "however," isn't there?--sometimes, it is the right choice.  I fully believe that the pain I've experienced is from my fibroid.  There are a couple much less invasive procedures that most likely would help.  Even with these procedures, though, I could either develop new fibroids or, at best, the one I have now would still be there.  It would lose some of its firmness (think about a Nerf ball as compared to an orange, but on a much smaller scale), but it would not shrink.   With my hypersensitive uterus, I might still have the pain.

Would it be so horrible if I decided to have a hysterectomy?  Would I feel like less of a woman?  Would I no longer feel like I could participate in conversations about women's stuff?  Would I be looked down on by friends for letting a doctor do what's easiest?

How do I know when it's time?

what to do?

Two years ago, I was having intense pelvic pain—during and after my period, during and after sex, resulting from an overly full bladder, etc.. Any stimulus would trigger several days of pain, ranging from vague cramping similar to early labor to pain so severe that I nearly passed out multiple times. Through a series of tests, my doctor discovered that I had a small fibroid tumor and an endometrial polyp. Although I had a weak afternoon when I begged for a hysterectomy, my gynecologist believed in saving the uterus whenever possible. In January 2007, I had a D&C, hysteroscopic resection of the fibroid, and an endometrial ablation.



Over the past 8 or 9 months, I’ve begun experiencing pain again, gradually increasing from discomfort to the same kinds of pain I had before. Although I haven’t resumed bleeding, there have been signs that the endometrial lining is beginning to build up again. In April, my gynecologist retired, so I made an appointment in June with one just down the hall. She commented that Dr. R. had written really long notes and asked me to tell her what had been going on rather than read it for herself. She recommended an ultrasound.


I put off the ultrasound for months, since the one I had in November 2006 (pre-ablation) was so extremely painful and I couldn’t stand the thought of having to drink all the water. Last week, I realized that I was having pain bad enough that I had to just suck it up and do it. So, Friday afternoon I had an ultrasound. This one was somehow more bearable than the one two years ago. The ultrasound technician said that she saw what looked like a 1-cm fibroid, which is what I’d had before and was no surprise. I was a bit relieved, in fact, to confirm that this was the cause of the pain.


Over the weekend, I began experiencing severe pain triggered by the ultrasound, just like I did during my periods pre-ablation. In fact, Sunday and Monday I was so light-headed and in so much pain that I considered going to the hospital. Instead, I was able to get a prescription that took the edge off the pain and let me sleep.


Today I called the doctor’s office to see if the ultrasound report had arrived. I had two separate conversations with the nurse, both of which I found upsetting.


Conversation 1: “The doctor says that your fibroid is stable and you don’t need to be seen unless there’s any change.” What??!!! I asked her what she meant by “stable,” and she said, “There’s been no change since your previous ultrasound in November 2006.” I asked how that could be the case, since the fibroid that showed up in November 2006 had been removed in January 2007. If there’s a fibroid in the same area, it’s not the same one that I had before. I realized that the doctor had simply read the report from the radiology department without even looking at my file. The nurse said she would share my comments with the doctor and that I would be contacted again.


Conversation 2: “The doctor thinks the fibroid is not causing your pain, that it’s a failed ablation and the endometrial lining is beginning to build back up. You’ll need to come in for an appointment and discuss your options. And don’t quote me on this, but that might mean a hysterectomy.” After thanking her (!) for getting back to me, I said that I would prefer not to go that route but that I looked forward to discussing all the alternatives with the doctor. Okay, I’m not a doctor, and I don’t know what actually causes pain. However, I would argue that while the rebuilding endometrium may be triggering episodes of pain, it is the fibroid that is the underlying cause. My previous doctor commented that the previous fibroid had been propping my uterus open just enough that my sensitive uterus was constantly on alert to contract. I am hoping this is just an instance of a nurse speaking out of turn, but I want to be prepared.


I have an appointment scheduled for Tuesday to discuss options. What are the right questions for me to ask? What are some of the benefits of retaining a uterus that aren’t related to childbirth? If I end up seeking a 2nd, 3rd, or 4th opinion, what are the relevant facts to include? What questions do I ask, and what answers do I want to hear? At what point do I decide that hysterectomy is an acceptable option?

ultrasound results

When I was pregnant with my babies, ultrasounds were full of excitement.  Sure, I hated having to drink and hold all that water for a couple hours, but I got to see my babies in real-time action.

Now that I'm past the baby-growing phase of life, ultrasounds aren't quite that exciting.  After putting it off for months, I finally got one scheduled for yesterday afternoon.  They've changed the amount of water you need to drink from 40 oz. to 32 oz.  That one less glass of water made a huge, huge difference.  I was uncomfortable from my full bladder, but not unbearably so.

I had a good ultrasound technician, who joked around with me about the magic wand (the ultrasound wand looks like a vibrator--and they cover it with something that looks like a condom) and told me about her new boyfriend (yes, these were related conversations).  Fortunately, she also told me what she was seeing on the test.  I was relieved to know that there was another fibroid.  I had started to worry that perhaps there was something else wrong, or that the pain was all in my head.

I'll call my doctor next week and figure out what my next step is.  But at least I got this one done!

if sarah palin were a man . . .

In the interest of fairness, I say that I am a political liberal, that I have rarely voted for a Republican candidate in an election, and that I am inspired by Barack Obama. Yet I look at the McCain-Palin ticket and find that I, well, I don't hate them.

Sarah Palin is someone with whom I disagree on issues that are extremely important to me. Yet she is my age and I admire how far she has come. She has a big family, and she has a special needs challenge. I have a great deal of respect for what I know of her personal choices, even though they may not be the same choices I would have made. She is coming under criticism for running for vice-president when she has five children, one with special needs and one a teenager with a baby on the way. "What kind of mother is she?" I've heard. I confess that it is difficult for me to understand why a mother with such a young child would want to be thrust into such a time-intensive job--but her current job as governor is probably just as time-intensive, so perhaps there won't be much change.

If Sarah Palin were a man, no one would be saying anything about it. How many men have run for vice-president and been criticized on the basis of how their campaign or possible seating in the position would affect their children or their parenting? If Sarah Palin were a man, her family's challenges would be a source of admiration for her wife.

This does not make me want to vote for McCain-Palin. However, it makes me nervous about listening to the Democratic challenges to her fitness to govern. If we attack her as a mother, then we cloud the issues that are significant to the nation.

if Sarah Palin were a man, this would be a non-issue.

men and women, women and men

My mother-in-law emailed me this joke:

Three Men on a Hike

Three men were hiking through a forest when they came upon
a large raging, violent river.

Needing to get to the other side, the first man prayed : 'God, please give me the strength to cross the river.' Poof! ... God gave him big arms and strong legs and he was able to swim across in about 2 hours, having almost drowned twice.

After witnessing that, the second man prayed : 'God, please give me strength and the tools to cross the river.' Poof! .... God gave him a rowboat and strong arms and strong legs and he was able to row across in about an hour after almost capsizing once.

Seeing what happened to the first two men, the third man prayed: 'God, please give me the strength, the tools and the intelligence to cross the river.' Poof! .... He was turned into a woman. She checked the map, hiked one hundred yards up stream and walked across the bridge.

It got me wondering: why do we act like there's a contest between men and women? I still see t-shirts and bumper stickers that say things like, "When God created man, She was only joking." In the kitchen of one of my childhood friends, there was a pair of embroidered wall hangings. One had the rooster crowing, "I rule the roost." And the other was a hen saying, "And I rule the rooster." Why do some of my friends and I make disparaging comments about our husbands?

Are these comments on our individual marriages or about specific men? Is it about finding a way to create or enhance a sense of community with our sister-women?

boys will still be boys

Last week, my 16-year old man-child was sticking duct tape all over his face. Two days ago, he picked up a piece of scrap lumber and stuck it to his nose and told us that it was his propellor. Is it true that he's going to be a high school junior next week?

gynecological testing

I think I have new fibroid tumors growing.  I have such a sensitive uterus that any stimulation (sex, full bladder, constipation, diarrhea, a sore back, etc.) triggers contractions/cramping.  With the fibroids, this is painful.  Right now, I feel this slow tightening, like my entire uterus is being pulled inward.  On rare occasions, the pain is--just for an instant--so severe that it causes me to get light-headed and nearly pass out.

The doctor wants me to have an ultrasound, which is what I knew would be the next step.  I have put off scheduling this test for four months now.  I dread it.  The full bladder alone is extremely painful for me, and keeping it all in my bladder is quite a challenge in itself.  Then, the ultrasound is quite invasive.  It's the transvaginal kind, which is basically like a dildo with a condom on it.  It pokes and presses against things in very uncomfortable ways, especially with the aforementioned full bladder.  Then, the ultrasonic waves themselves stimulate the uterus.  The pain from this kind of thing usually sets in about an hour later and lasts for two or three days.

The next step up from an ultrasound is an MRI.  The MRI causes all the atoms to realign, which generally doesn't cause any problems.  The first time I had a pelvic MRI, however, it was in the evening.  I expected no pain, so imagine my surprise when I woke up in the middle of the night to severe pain.

All these tests will do is confirm whether I do actually have a fibroid.  Last time, I had just a tiny one--but at only 1 cm in diameter, it caused me to nearly pass out while driving, teaching, pushing a shopping cart, etc.   I know that I have to deal with this, but man, I dread it.

boys will be boys

So I'm sitting in the living room admiring my son, a young man who is about to be a high school junior.  I began thinking about the leadership he's shown in his scout troop, the times he's seen me stressing over something and put his arms around me, the way he is so tall now.  Without looking up, I said, "Honey, I just want you to know how proud I am of the man you're becoming."  I glanced over at him, and he was sticking duct tape all over his face.  He at least had the decency to be a bit embarrassed.

olympic grace

As I have most of my life, I watched the women's gymnastics events as part of the Olympics coverage. I absolutely love watching Nastia Liukin. She has a grace to her movement that is almost ethereal. The lines and curves she creates with her body are just amazing. It's like she's floating and not even working at all, she makes it look that beautiful. It's a physical grace like one I could never have. When I watch her, I feel like I'm watching a soul, not like I'm watching gymnastics.

Shawn Johnson is another kind of gymnast, the kind with explosive and energetic power. She is an amazing gymnast, although I would never use the word "grace" to describe how she jumps and balances and twirls. However, she has another kind of grace that impresses me deeply. Before winning her gold (and what an absolutely adorable smile she had for us!), she won three silvers. Despite the disappointment that was written in her eyes, each time, she approached the gold medal winner and offered her a big hug, even tugging on others' sleeves to get their attention. She smiled even when she won a silver. She exhibited great grace in the way of sportsmanship.

These women are both great gymnasts and showed very different kinds of grace.

children grow up

I'm sitting here with hot coffee, an available computer, and a quiet house. My three kids (all teenagers) are sound asleep, and it will be several hours yet before I have all three of them vertical and mobile. Late-sleeping kids during summer vacation is one of the things I really like about having teenagers. Just a few years ago, they would have all been up before 6, and by now I would have dealt with breakfast and at least one or two spats--and it's only 7:45 am. My kids were all early risers. If I wanted any alone time to start my day, I had to get up at 5--and then I could count on only about half an hour before they started waking up. When did they start sleeping late? Why didn't I notice it and throw myself a party to celebrate this change?

Several years ago--when my kids were younger and I needed a different kind of support in parenting--I was on an email list for parents of twins. Someone had expressed frustration with the endless butt-wiping. "Why does it feel like I'll be wiping their butts forever?" Somehow this struck a chord in me, and I posted a response about some of the things that pass by without our even noticing. I've been thinking about that now, and here's what I wrote:

Butt-wiping is one of those things that just kind of tapers off without anyone realizing it until one day,whammo--it hits you that you don't even remember the last time you

• wiped a butt
• bought baby wipes
• carried a diaper bag
• didn't have dust in the bowl of the potty seat
• had to get up in the middle of the night to feed someone
• hunted for a pacifier
• used a sippy cup
• were able to spell words to your spouse and the kids really weren't able to
  figure out what you were talking about
• had to cut everyone's food into tiny, tiny pieces
• thought 5 a.m. was sleeping in
• couldn't take a shower unless another adult was in the house
• had spit-up on your clothes
• were able to pick up both your twins at once

There is such an intense time when all of life seems to revolve around these things, and it's hard to believe that it won't last forever. It does pass--so much that I truly hadn't thought about these things for a long, long time. To those of you still there, please believe that there is a light at the end of the tunnel (I first believed in this particular light once the twins were on solid food and had more regular and predictable meal times)--and thank you for helping me remember to appreciate that I'm now living in that light (of course, we haven't hit puberty yet). I also must say, somewhat sadly, that my 10-year old doesn't fit on my lap anymore, although we do try sometimes. Just a few weeks ago, we were watching TV together and he fell asleep on my lap. His poor hair got all soaked with my tears as I realized that at that moment, I might well be experiencing the very last time I would ever get to hold that child as he slept. The rhythms of life move to many difference dances.--April 24, 2002

How could I have forgotten all those things? The 10-year old who fell asleep on my lap is now 16, and that was, indeed, the last time I held him as he slept. He is now a young man, and I can hold him briefly and in a very different way. He now comforts me as I once comforted him. I still wonder what his future will hold, but I see the promise of a good man in him and I wonder if I've really had anything to do with who he is from this point on. With all three of my children, I have been able to see their character and know something of who they will be. My oldest cares deeply about fairness in the world. My daughter is a true and loyal friend. My younger son sympathizes with those who suffer. I don't know where these qualities came from, but I feel blessed for having been able to see them in my children. Although I miss the sweetness of a baby's soft head tucked into my neck, I am truly grateful to have the chance to watch my babies grow into good adult human beings.

going out in public

My first semester of full-time teaching, I had a student in her mid-50's who wrote a paper about the importance of appearance. I remember one sentence in particular: "I would never go even to the grocery store in less than slacks and flats and base makeup. Jeans are for gardening; tennis shoes are for playing tennis." Since then, I've met other women who have said the same thing.

I'm headed off to the library and the grocery store in cut-off jean shorts, a t-shirt, tennis shoes, and no makeup. Is that really bad for a 43-year old woman? At least I'm not wearing my old pink flip-flops.

bras and tank tops

Why is it so hard to find a tank top that's not so loose and low-hanging that my bra shows? I purchase bras for comfort, not for how they look with my clothes. I know they say that white goes with everything, but trust me, when it comes to the side of my bra, that's just not true.

the menstrual legacy: first blood

I still remember my first period: March 25-26, 1977. My diary showed a little diagram of the uterus and ovaries with tear-drop-shaped blood coming out of it. That was the first time I felt like I was really female and really growing up. I felt like I'd become a full-blooded woman.

It didn't take long to learn that my periods were worse than what the other girls my age were experiencing.. They were heavy, I had cramping, and my mood swings made me a poster child for PMS. This just got worse after having children and slouching into middle age. Right before my ablation, the flow and the cramping caused pain so bad I nearly passed out while driving, teaching, pushing my cart through the grocery store, and even just sitting on the couch. My mother had horrible periods--an extremely heavy flow, clots whose size was compared to various citrus fruits, the necessity of using multiple pads and tampons, etc. In fact, my mother had worse periods than any woman I ever knew--until I met my mother-in-law, who couldn't even use tampons due to a higher likelihood of infection related to rheumatic fever during her teen years. These two women made my periods look like a walk in the park.

Imagine my poor daughter trying to escape the menstrual legacy coming down from both sides of her gene pool. I'd often wondered how I would handle my daughter's first period. On the Cosby Show, Rudy's first period was celebrated by a mother-daughter "Woman's Day." Should I celebrate with her? Would it be something she wanted to celebrate? Would she even want to acknowledge it to me? The only thing I ever wanted to talk to my mom about with my periods at that age was to tell her that I needed more "stuff" from the grocery store. I must say that it's been interesting being the mother of a menstruating daughter, especially since I haven't bled in a year and half.

First Blood, Part 1
R (my daughter) had her first blood about two years ago. This consisted of her seeing a spot of blood on her underwear, yelling to me to come to the bathroom right away, and announcing, "I have my punctuation." About three more times over the following year, this was the pattern. Her hormones and emotions were definitely have regular periods, but she spotted only occasionally for over a year. Last summer, she had none at all.

First Blood, Part 2
Last year, on the Friday of the first week of school, R came home and announced: "I became a woman today--twice!" Huh? Apparently, she had blood on her underwear two different times at school. As we were talking, her twin brother (B) walked into the room. R said, "You'll probably want to leave the room because we're talking about woman things. I became a woman today." B said, "What, you had a bat mitzvah?" (He's wanted to convert to Judaism ever since we attended a friend's son's bar mitzvah and saw what a great party and cool presents were to be had. This was clearly on his mind, as he was approaching his 13th birthday.)

R thought she'd gotten her period twice, since she'd found blood twice. I had to sit her down and explain to her that a period wasn't something that just occasionally punctuated her underwear, that it was like a slow faucet that dripped over several days and nights. Once her body figured out what it was doing, it would be a more steady flow. Her face fell. It was like I'd told her there was no Santa.

First Blood, Part 3
By November, her periods were floods, not punctuation. She would have only 3 weeks between, and the flow was heavy. We were staying at her uncle's farm overnight, and I went in to wake her up. She was standing with a blanket wrapped around her. She opened the blanket and was covered in blood from boobs to knees. My poor baby! Later that day, she looked at the baby I was holding and said, "You know I could make one of those, right?"

First Blood, Part 4
Ever since November, I've been encouraging her to use tampons, knowing that they would help mitigate some of the embarrassing leaking onto clothes that she'd experienced. I bought her tampons, but she couldn't figure out exactly where they went. I bought her a mirror and told her to get to know her body. She finally figured out the location but couldn't figure out the insertion method--and once she did, it pinched. So, following my sister-in-law's advice, I got some with plastic applicators. These worked better. After months and boxes of practice, she'd finally gotten one in. She was ready for showtime.

Showtime came last week. In the middle of the lake at the family campout, we were lying on a raft together when she announced, "I just felt something in my va-jay-jay." She scooted to the edge of the raft and managed to get her hand in enough to check, and there was blood on it. Then began the hours and days of the Tampon Transition.

Day 1
"It's causing cramping."
"It hurts."
"It hurts but not when I lie down."
"It hurts but not when I sit."
"Look! I can walk!"
"I don't know why anyone uses these stupid
things."

Day 2
"Oh. Was I supposed to use a pad and a tampon overnight? Oops."

Day 3
"I just read the directions. I wasn't putting them in all the way. It's much better now."

Day 4 (the day of regular updates, every single time she went to the bathroom)
"Did you know that if you twist it just a bit at the end that it's easier to get the applicator out?"
"Gross. I saw my pee coming off the end of the string."
"The string got stuck in the crack thing. I had to dig it out."
At the end of the day, I got a daily summary that consisted of a recap of all earlier updates and a a confirmation that she planned to use tampons again in the future. (This part was delivered while I was lying in bed next to my husband, who we both thought was asleep. We
discovered we were wrong when my husband suddenly covered his ears and started
singing the "la-la-la" song.)



So far, this is proving to be an interesting adventure. She says she doesn't like to talk about this stuff with me--but she talks to me, anyway. We never did celebrate a "Woman's Day" to honor her first period. However, we have a monthly tradition. On the first day of her period every month, I go to the store and buy chocolate. The boys get some chocolate, too (B says, "because we have to put up with her"), but she gets the good stuff. It's a celebration of Woman's Day every month.

in the beginning . . .

As shy as I've been for most of my life (this might come as a surprise to some people who know me), I've always managed to feel comfortable talking with other women about, well, women's woes. Inevitably, these conversations have often morphed into conversations about how men don't know how easy they have it. Sometime in the mid-90's, when I was dealing with the changes in my cycles after my children were born, I found myself using the expression, "part of the stupid shit men don't have to put up with." My female colleaugues and I would share our experiences, and it was the first time in my life I truly felt part of the community of women.

During one of these conversations, someone made reference to the then-popular book Don't Sweat the Small Stuff--and It's All Small Stuff, wondering if we should stop complaining and let it go. I responded, "I'm going to write my own book! And it will be all about the stupid shit that men don't have to put up with. It will be about periods and childbirth and infertility and runs in your pantyhose and tweezing and sneezing when your mascara's wet!" (I'm sure I was PMS'ing at the time.)

Over the years, I've occasionally promised/threatened to actually write this book, with lots of women asking for a copy when it was published. I never seemed to get around to it. When I was experiencing some gynecological challenges a couple years ago (problems, testing, procedures, worrying, etc.), I briefly considered writing a book called The Uterus Chronicles, but I guess I just forgot about this other book idea.

A couple weeks ago, I ran into a woman in Walgreens--in the feminine hygiene product aisle, of course. I was shopping for my daughter, and she was shopping for supplies for the Women's Crisis Center. After the obligatory comments about how many choices there are these days, we began talking about the bulky old pads that had no adhesive and required the use of a menstrual belt. Then we progressed into a conversation about our periods (cramping, size and frequency of clots, embarrassing leakages, having to stay home because of menstrual issues, etc.). Then she started to tell me about how easy her husband had it:

We went to some friends' house the other night. I started to get ready, which of course meant curling my hair, putting my makeup on, getting my husband's clothes out, getting myself dressed, feeding
the cat, checking to be sure the coffee pot was off, and, well, you know how it goes. Half an hour after I got started, my husband brushed his teeth and put on the clothes that I had gotten out for him, and then complained that I was taking too long to get ready. Men just don't know easy they have it and they don't have a clue about all the things we have to put up with.

I immediately began telling her about my book plans (which I'd completely forgotten about for five years). She was so excited about the idea and said the best thing: "You write that book. You deserve it!" I felt so encouraged, and I thought about how these conversations always made me feel connected to other women and how the other women came away laughing and happy. So I made a decision to write the book. This blog is essentially a draft of the book. It will allow me to write about ideas as they occur to me and, I hope, gauge responses from real women about these things.

I have lots of ideas, and I'll get to them all in good time:

• periods, periods, periods
• pantyhose
• makeup
• problem periods
• pregnancy
• problem pregnancies
• no pregnancy
• childbirth
• children
• no children
• bladders and uteruses (uterii?)
• spouses
• no spouses

I'll try to be fair and occasionally write about the wonderful things that women get to experience that men don't and the things that men have to put up with that women don't (I'm sure there are some). Despite the title of this blog, my intent isn't to do man bashing. After all, I have a man, and there are plenty of more interesting things to do with him than bash him. But what makes us women is all the things that we experience and the ways we experience them that are outside the world of men.

So, I hope you enjoy some of what I write, and I invite you to post comments if something stands out for you.