Bloody Biology!

Some may find this funny, while others may feel my pain, either of which is okay. But for those that may get squeamish with the topic of Menstruation, go away at this Period…..

While I’m not sure what statistics are now days for when young girls get their first periods, I remember that I got mine when I was in 8th grade. The exact day is something I don’t recall either, but I remember trying to figure out what was going on with me, and later on figuring out how to properly use a tampon applicator with much trial and error. Shoving it up there several times wrongly, and it going in painfully crooked, but I'm assuming a lot of girls experience this.

Fast forward to 12th grade, with several years of Mother Nature generously giving me my gift on the correct date that it was due, I started my first regimen of birth control. I was not sexually active, but I wanted to be prepared. I started out with a shot called the depo, after which Shark Week basically went away for the first month, but I decided that I didn’t like the rapid weight gain that came with that prick so I didn’t get a renewal. And off birth control I went, still not sexually active. The Painters were horribly hit and miss at this point on scheduling. Finally, I started dating my husband and we got married as soon as I turned 18.

We pretty much started right away trying to conceive a baby, but my Crimson Wave never really recovered from the shot. In addition to having my Monthly Visitation messed up by Depo-Provera, I went through 3, almost 4 miscarriages. The 4th was my eldest son, and the doctors had said that I had miscarried him because they couldn’t find his heart beat in addition to bleeding for over a month straight. Needless to say that when I found out I was still pregnant it was quite the emotional roller-coaster.

After my first son was delivered via c-section, Rag Time never returned to any semblance of normalcy. Aunt Erma’s visits would occur anywhere from 4 days after the previous one had ended to 4 months later, and would last ranging from 1 day to 3 weeks. It was horrible, and frustrating and it made getting pregnant with my second son very painfully emotional. My husband and I would have sex constantly so that we didn’t miss any chance of my day of ovulation. We spent hundreds on ovulation and pregnancy tests and had finally given up hope of having another child after being diagnosed with PCOS. Finally, one day, we had a wonderful little surprise of a positive pregnancy test.

After my second son was born, again, Code Red was unpredictable. My husband and I wasted no time and we started trying again for a third child, mainly because we didn’t think it would happen. When my second son was 9 months old, BAM, we found out we were expecting our daughter. My daughter arrived, and I will just say that having a girl is a completely different feeling than having a boy.

Miscarriage is definitely a painful topic, but I like to think that the baby’s soul is just passed on to the next child waiting to come to you, and if you decide not to have any more, they are still yours in the afterlife. In between pregnancies, I had an additional two miscarriages, but I’ve come to terms with them.

I had originally planned to wait longer until having #4, but when my little girl was 1 and a half, it felt right to have my potentially last. We decided that the best way to try to get pregnant was to do 30 days of sex. Sure enough, not only was it super fun, but we conceived. After our sweet boy was born, Mirena was the birth control of choice, because while I wasn’t 100% sure I didn’t want another, I didn’t want to get pregnant for at least 5 years, nor did I want my husband’s tubes snipped yet.

I have a super high riding cervix. With each of my children, the doctors, nurses and midwives would always put their hands together to compare hand sizes. This would allow them to see who had the longer fingers as to best reach my cervix. Well, getting the Mirena in was just as difficult. It took 3 different midwives to come in and, at last, shove it on up. It was very painful getting it through, but they did it. I’m not a big fan of having sex when the Beaver is Angry, and quite frankly think it’s gross. It’s okay if other people want to do it, I just don’t like it. Well, the Mirena is a very effective kind of birth control for me because it made me abstinent. I bled for basically 6 whole months so I had to get very creative with how I would please my husband. Finally I was done with my extended red beast so I went and had the bloody Mirena removed.

The Tide was finally turning! After dealing with a little bit of aftershock from the removal, I was able to eventually hang up my open for business sign for my husband. One month later, on the 2nd, I knew the Redcoats were coming by the telltale painful throbbing of my lady parts. A month after that to the exact day, I had to hang up the Out of Order sign again. ‘Was this a potential pattern?’ I thought, and sure enough, another Blood Moon passed on the same day only a month later! I don’t think I had ever been so excited about seeing TOM regularly.

Well, as of August 2016 I decided to get a job to help out a little with expenses around the house. Baby was old enough that I didn’t feel guilty about going back to work. It was a short search, surprisingly, because I had been out of work for 6 years taking care of my kids. I am a huge fan and contributor to the arts, as well as having a love of psychology, photography, therapy, and being understanding of those struggling. So when this perfect job presented itself and the hiring manager just jumped at hiring me, it felt really good to be wanted. I would be working at an all girls private high school. The school is also an institution for those struggling and they partly do therapy through all forms of arts. The girls suffer from depression, eating disorders, body image issues because some of them are in transition into becoming men, and many other issues that require therapy.

Back to being less serious; the very first month I was there, the Carpet Stainer (yes I know that’s not technically a word) didn’t show up until the 5th. For a few days I was terrified that I might be pregnant. This is where having a regular meeting with your Red Headed Friend comes in handy or makes your stomach tie itself in knots. After the Flood Gates had finally opened, I couldn’t figure out what had thrown it off.

Biology and Nature!

I had only ever heard of the syncing of Menstrual Cycles in a large group of women, so experiencing it first hand was highly odd. I am around about 60 other women on a daily basis. 60 other women who have their cycles slowly converging onto the same time frame. This was a little disheartening knowing that my precious Lady Days would no longer be on a regular schedule for the first time in many years. Well, here I sit on the 31st, starting another wacked out Menses.

Long story short, when you work around a bunch of other women, you can no longer use your Regularly Scheduled Bloodletting as a sign that you are not pregnant.

Burning down the house

       When a person’s house burns down, it can be a very traumatic event.  Most of the time it would be, except when it came to my family.

It was February 2nd 2002, also known as Groundhog Day, and my parents had decided they wanted to go on a date to the Temple.  All my other siblings were elsewhere; probably either spending the night at friend’s houses or out on dates because it was a Saturday night.  I was the oldest at home with no plans and so I was put in charge of babysitting my two younger siblings; Benjamin and Sepherah.  

It was dark outside and we were stuck inside so I decided to turn on the T.V.  We never had anything fancy, just basic TV and VHS's so our entertainment selection was limited.  As I flipped through the channels, pushing the buttons on the television set because we didn't have a remote control, I happened upon what looked like a funny movie.  Groundhog Day with Bill Murray as the star was playing as a holiday special.  Benjamin and Sepherah were sitting down on one of the couches as I watched the show and laughed at the humor it produced.

Recently I had started to learn how to cook little dishes; chili cheese fries, tuna-chicken sandwiches, etc.  While watching the movie, Benjamin came up to me and asked if I would make some chili cheese fries for him because he was hungry.  They were a treat so I thought he was just trying to get some of the good food, but he wouldn't stop pestering me so I told him once the movie was over I would go and cook some chili cheese fries.

We were all engrossed in the movie or so I thought.  I was seated directly in front of the TV and Benjamin and Sepherah were seated on the other couch.  Shortly after Benjamin asked me to make the food, I started to smell something funny.  I kept sniffing and couldn't quite place the smell, but finally I placed it, SMOKE!  I turned and looked toward the hallway, which lead directly to the kitchen, and I saw billows of smoke coming out of the kitchen on the top of the doorway.

Running towards the kitchen, I started to yell and Sepherah and Benjamin to get out of the house.  I stood in the doorway to the kitchen and stared at the stove, our small sauce pot sitting on the front burner with a torch of fire extending from the stove to the ceiling and starting to cover a good portion of the rest of the kitchens ceiling.

My very first thought, before anything else was, 'I'm so grounded.'  Getting grounded was not a common punishment for our parents to give to us so I find it funny that I would think of that first.  Growing up, my mom had constantly performed different kinds of drills with all of us children to make sure we would be prepared in the event of a natural disaster.  She would have us take positions in places around the house that would be most secure in the event of an earthquake.  She would have a designated meeting place to get to when getting out of the house in the event of a fire.  She would even have us repeat to her what we were supposed to do in the event of her biological mother showing up; but that's another story completely.

As the slight bit of shock snapped out of me, I reached to my right and grabbed the phone off of the table.  I ran to make sure Sepherah and Benjamin were out of the house and they were; Sepherah off to the side crying and Benjamin on the front lawn holding his head.  I ran back inside because I wanted to see if it was something I could handle or if I actually should dial 911.  I knew how serious dialing 911 was and that I shouldn't do it unless it was an absolute emergency.

I stood taking in all the flames as a piece of the ceiling fell on the shag rug that covered the kitchen floor and the fire started to spread fast.  I pulled the shag rug up over itself and smothered the small bit of flame.  With the phone still in hand and having yet to dial 911, I ran to the bathroom.  The adrenaline in my body was taking over and unfortunately it was also messing with my logic.  I remember standing in the bathroom doorway looking for a hose and then saying to myself, 'duh,' and running out of the house.  Now there was a small sense to my logic at the time because I had been thinking that the bathroom was a main source of water; sink, toilet, bathtub, blah, blah, blah, give me a break.  I was a 14 year old girl doing the best I could in a less than ideal situation.

Heading out of the house and the phone still in hand, 911 still not dialed, I turned to the side of the house and tried to turn on the hose, but in my panic, I failed to turn it in the right direction.

That was it.  I was done.  Realizing the situation was out of my hands I dialed 911. 

“911 what’s your emergency?” said the 911 operator.  I had heard it dozens of times on TV shows, but never in real life.

“MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE!  MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE!”  I yelled.

“Is everyone out of the house?” said the calm female voice.

“OF COURSE EVERYONE IS OUT OF THE HOUSE!  WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, AN IDIOT?!”

“Calm down mam.  It’s okay, calm down.”

I couldn’t believe she was telling me to calm down.  I don’t know why I couldn’t believe it, it just seemed so stupid at the time.  “CALM DOWN?!  CALM DOWN!  YOU CALM DOWN!  YOUR HOUSE ISN’T ON FIRE, IS IT?!

“Mam, I need your address.”  The lady said in an exasperated voice.

It flowed from my mouth like my own name as I told her to please hurry and as I finally started to cry.

Just then, my mother’s white Buick pulled into the driveway and I ran full throttle to the car and plastered my sopping face against the window and screamed at my mom, “THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!”

My mom got out of the car and said, “WHAT?”  I repeated to her that the house was on fire and the first thing she asked was where were Benjamin and Sepherah.  I pointed to a crying Sepherah on the side lawn and a scared Benjamin on the front lawn, holding his head and as I remember it, a slight smile on his face.

I told my mother that I had already called 911 and held up the phone.  I jumped back on the phone and told the lady that my mom was there and set the phone off to the side again.  I’m sure the dispatcher was frustrated that I wasn’t relaying information of what was going on to her, but I had to talk to my mom.

As my mom ran towards the front door, she started yelling at me to turn on the hose and I responded that it didn’t work.  She told me to turn it the other way, and then realization hit that I had indeed turned it the wrong way.  She picked up the hose and at that moment there was a single sprinkler head on it.  Just as she started to unscrew it the water came out in full force right into her face.  As my mother disappeared inside, the full weight of everything that had just happened in the short 3 minutes started to sink in.

Very shortly after, my mother emerged from the house for a breath of air.  As she did, she put her hands on her hips and smiled.  Completely opposite of what most parents would have said and reacted, she said, “Now what have we learned?”

My response?  “Never leave Benjamin alone again.” As tears coursed down my face and Ben stood guiltily off to the side.  My mother ran back inside to try to put some more water on the flames to contain them until the first responders arrived.

Over 10 minutes after I had called 911, the fire department finally showed up.  The firefighters went through the kitchen, soaking everything in it just to make sure there were no underlying hot patches so the fire wouldn’t start back up again.  To clear the smoke, my mom attempted to open the window over the sink, and unfortunately it had been weakened by the fire and broke on her hand.  She suffered a slight cut, but otherwise was unharmed.

As the firefighters were making sure that my mom and I were not suffering from shock or smoke inhalation, they were going over the damages with my mom.  My mom, being thoroughly trained in emergency situations knew what they were doing.  She knew why they were asking her such funny questions and knew that they couldn’t leave her until they were absolutely certain that she was okay.  At this point, she got it in her head that she wanted to mess with them.  She looked about for some obscure subject and saw that the flames had gotten to a bag of Malt O’ Meal cheerios, also known as ‘Toastios.’  She exclaimed in exasperation, “Darn!  The fire got the Cheerios.” And she watched as the two firefighters looked at each other and she could tell from the looks on their faces that they were thinking, ‘yup, she’s gone!’  After she had had her fun, she said, “That’s okay!  We can have Toastios!” and the firefighters got a good laugh.

Sepherah, Benjamin and I were standing out on the street by our neighbors and some of the fire trucks and I had to keep explaining to everyone what happened.  I found it frustrating how everyone kept wanting to know what was going on and wouldn’t mind their own business.

It was decided that we would go spend the night at my Uncle Ryan’s house for the night while the smoke cleared out of the house.  I remember lying down on the ground when I started to cry, thinking about how it was all my fault.  I didn’t know how much damage had happened and I had just gotten an electric guitar for my past birthday and was worried that it had gotten ruined.

I don’t remember going to church the next day, but that doesn’t mean that we didn’t.  I do however remember my mom telling us that we didn’t have to go to school if we didn’t want to.  I remembered that I had a very important test that was going to be held so I had to go.  Typically I would walk to the bus stop with my friend Beatriz, but I was still staying at my Uncle’s house so I walked to the bus stop from there.

Sitting at school in Mr. Nelson’s class I was still extremely melancholy about the whole situation.  After taking the test I laid my head down on my desk in an effort to cry without anyone seeing me.  I was too exhausted to deal with the rest of the day and just wanted to be left alone.  Just then my teacher came up to me and asked if everything was alright.  I told him what had happened and he didn’t know why I had come to school.  He said someone’s house burning down was a pretty good excuse for missing a test and he told me that I didn’t have to do anything else for the rest of the day.

A few interesting things came out of this event.  While my mom was at the temple she was sitting in a session when she suddenly got a urgent prompting to go home right then and told my dad she had to go home.  Due to that prompting, my mom probably saved our house from going completely up in flames.  There was enough damage to the home that made it so we had to move out within a few short days.  Our friends were moving from 6 doors down and they were nice enough to be willing to seller finance my parents.

It had turned out that my wonderful little brother, whom I wouldn’t trade for anything, had decided he wanted to do a favor for me and get started on the chili cheese fries ahead of time while the movie was still playing.  He filled a pot with oil and put it on the stove.  Along with all of the food directly above the stove surviving thanks to a box of baking soda placed in the cupboards directly above the oven, the pot survived and is still in use to this day.