I liked you more when you were barren

I have spent much of my valuable blogging time complaining about my body's fierce and determined hatred for me. PCOS and its four years of resulting infertility, an aversion to the drug which eases some symptoms of PCOS (Metformin), and the final icing on the eff-you-Pru cake - inability to breastfeed. Guess what? My body and I are total BFFs now. No, really. It's cooperating.



"How?!", you ask, tripping over yourselves. Patience dear children, patience.



I haven't had normal, timely periods ever. They were irregular from when I had my first at 13, and I would often go half a year without bleeding once. When I went on the pill at 18, they were finally predictable, but would stop as soon as I stopped taking the pills. I just assumed that I was doomed to a life of irregularity, but...but...



I now have a regular menstrual cycle without the aid of birth control pills. REGULAR. As in, my uterine lining is shed once a month on a REGULAR basis. Sloughing people, sloughing. It's like fucking clockwork, and I looooove it. Yes, I love my period. I'm almost moved enough to refer to it as "Aunt Flo", just so I can cheerily proclaim, "Sorry, I'm unable to swim at the moment, Aunt Flo is in town" ::wink wink:: Oh, how I've always wanted to live this life, the life of the regular bleeder...



Attentive readers may recall that I had no period post-baby until one was thrust upon me courtesy of birth control pills, and it lasted for one whole month. Ah yes...fun times indeed. That was my penance for not having a period in fifteen months, and I think I was a faithful and willing servant. I let my ladybits do their thing, and other than the occasional near-fainting spell during which I had to secure the baby lest I crush her or expire, leaving her with only my rotting carcass for sustinence, I issued nary a complaint.



I'm letting myself think that perhaps, just perhaps, this regularity might mean that my innards are not as dysfunctional as they used to be. I suspect my hopes will come crashing to the ground if I decide to attempt getting pregnant again, but it's fun to be optimistic if only for a little while.



This glimpse at physical normality has lead me to think more about natural pregnancy. You know, the kind that doesn't involve this:

That's my Baby Lab. I cooked up a P. using all that shit.

I was reading about a non-infertile blogger's recent pregnancy, her second. I was jealous of course, even though I can't say I fancy a pregnancy of my own at the moment. Her level of ease won't come naturally for me, I'm almost sure, even with this recent physiological perfection that I'm experiencing. I think I'll always be jealous, but most noticable in its absence was the pang of bitterness I so often felt before. Before, pre-P.

I guess it seems logical that my bitterness would wane somewhat, now that I have the prize, which, by the way, shit in my bathtub tonight. I just never thought I would reach that point, but I'm glad I have. Even though it's my nature to be bitter and cynical on so many matters, I always felt horrid for begrudging women their pregnancies. I think back to posts where I complained about others' fertility, and I think how I must have seemed like such a hypersensitive, callous bitch.

I can't say unequivocally that I'm over this. I would love to be, but I suspect it would only take a few negative cycles until I would be back into crone mode. It's almost an unfathomable feeling for me - not getting prickly about someone's pregnancy. Can you imagine such a world?