"Oh yeah. Periods."
That would explain that uncomfortable sensation in my stomach. It would also explain why I audibly cried three times while accidentally* watching "The Voice" on Monday night. If there was a certain inadvertent sharpness to my tone when I suggested that Chuck manage the tot's 1:40 a.m. rally cry, this, too, could be explained.
Truthfully, I was a little excited. It was like getting a visit from an old friend I'd not really missed. In the past two years, whenever someone complained about cramps or bloodlettings, I just nodded sympathetically and groaned "ugh" before checking myself and thinking "You fraud. These days you wouldn't know a cramp if it twisted your uterus into a pretzel and slapped you across the face."
First I sent Fannie a text:
"I just got my first period in two years!" I said.
"Congrats," she responded. "You're a woman now."
Then I sent a text to Chuck:
"I just got my period!" I said.
"You're a woman now," he responded.
I guess it's unanimous.
I rifled through the nooks and crannies of our bathrooms in search of supplies. I found some of this and that, dusty behind the Mega Pads required to sop up the effects of the pregnancy wound. In the end, I went with one of the Mega Pads. It seemed retro and cool. I could practically hear myself twisting a phone cord and sighing lazily into a landline: "What? Oh nothing. Just sitting around in a pair of sweatpants wearing a pad and crying about 'The Voice.'"
The novelty wore off today when I realized I'd lost my ability to do the math problem that involves absorbency, flow and time.
My last period struck about this time in 2012, while we were inconveniently staying in a hotel in Minneapolis that was accented in such crisp whites. I demolished a pair of yellow jeggings that weekend, if I recall correctly. My last first period hit about 27 years ago while I was running wild at a hockey game with a girl named Gina.
"There's a blood moon," Chuck said when he walked into the house tonight after work.
"For me?" I squealed.
* I don't, like, rush home from my daily obligation to watch "The Voice." My TV just happened to be on and it just happened to be turned to "The Voice" channel and The Powerful Toddler Girl likes songs and then I got distracted by Judge Gwen Stefani. So.
Also: I can't remember if it's weird to write about periods, but I decided that I threw modesty out the window the day that I decided to give a detailed account of what it's like to have a baby.
Also-Also: I was assured by two nurses that it is perfectly reasonable for a Bfeeder to not get her P (slang, yo) while Bfeeding. Bodies, man.