My period has mysteriously disappeared. After years of getting it every 28 days, it’s now 19 days late. And thanks to my husband’s successful vasectomy five years ago, I know that I’m not pregnant.
I didn’t care when my period didn’t come that first week because I was traveling across the country. And having your period when you travel can be a pain. Especially when you’re doing a 10 mile hike and have to stop and pee behind very short bushes.
But now that it’s been over two weeks and there’s still no sign of getting my period, I’m becoming a little bummed out. Every time I look down at my underwear, I find myself looking for signs of it. A little spotting, a small drop of blood when I wipe. Nothing. But I’m afraid to wear white.
And I hate to say this but I miss it. I kind of miss the cramps. That feeling that I was getting rid of unwanted things from my body. The shared bitching about hormonal changes with my teen daughter. The excuse to not have sex.
I realize that I’m almost 50. And I’ve been having symptoms of perimenopause for a while. But I thought that the process of ceasing menstruation would be more gradual. First, my friend would start coming every 35 days. Then every 42 days. And so on.
I’m starting to think that this might be it. And I’ll have to move all of my pads and tampons in to my daughter’s bathroom. No more counting the days on my calendar since my last period to see when I’m going to have it. Or bringing a period pack on trips. Worrying about soiling the hotel sheets like I did that time at a fancy place and was embarrassed when it ended up looking like someone had been massacred there.
I feel like I haven’t had a chance to say goodbye to the shedding of my endometrial lining. We’ve been going through this monthly exercise together for so long. Since I was 13. It’s like losing a friend. If my period never comes back, I’m going to have a kind of themed going away party for it. Sangria. Zucchini noodles with marinara sauce. Some red velvet cupcakes. Play pin the tail on the uterus with maxi-pads.
Maybe this isn’t the end. I’m a little crampy today. But it could just be my imagination. And wishful thinking.
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Feature image via TimeWas/Etsy