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Monday, March 12, 2007

Dear Menstrual Cycle,

Hi there!

I know we have a kind of rocky relationship, what with me cursing your name most of the time. But I want you to know that's all behind me now. So to speak.

Even though you showed up almost immediately after my daughter was born and robbed me of the reprieve most nursing mothers enjoy... that's OK. Even though you were squirrly for two years and made it difficult for me to conceive said daughter, I forgive you for that, too.

Basically, I want us to be friends. I want us to get along. I want you to depend on me, and mostly I want to depend on you. I want to believe that the reason I've been so exhausted the past two weeks is a charming cocktail of stress and not enough iron. I want to believe the dip in my milk supply is because you're knocking at the downstairs door. I want to believe that the reason you are four days late is because the constant breastfeeding is mucking you up.

Can those be things I believe in? As a friend and confidant, can you send me a signal that you are indeed on your way and are not, in fact, on a nine-month vacation? Because as much as I would probably freak out and lose my mind enjoy a nine-month vacation from you, I am not ready for one just yet. I AM NOT READY YET.

Sorry, didn't mean to shout at you. I just wanted to make sure you're paying attention. I'm going to go do some things now - bite my fingernails, say a prayer, maybe put away some laundry - and when I'm finished I expect to hear from you. I would actually welcome a cramp or spontaneous crying jag. Really, anything you can throw at me. Sound good?

Good.

I love you, for reals. And despite all the bad things I've ever said about you, I want you back. Please come back. I'll be right here.

Here I am.

Over here.

Waving.

Waiting.

Hello?

posted by haikumama @ 10:55 AM  

1 Comments:

At 11:43 AM, haikumama said...

Update!

NOT pregnant. It took a week, a frantic trip to the doctor, much razzing from friends, and then... it suddenly looked like someone shot me in the vagina. Not pretty, but a cause for celebration nonetheless.

This is so horrifyingly TMI I feel like I have to turn off my computer and eschew blogging forever. Sorry.

 

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