Ode To My Ovaries

Disclaimer:  If you are a guy, and don't want to hear about becoming a woman, do not read this post.  If you go on, you have been warned.  dun-dun-dunnnnn

Today Miss Jenny has given us the writing assignment of the very fun and festive letter

Thinking long and hard about this fine letter of the alphabet, I finally came up with my subject.

Ovaries.  Those crappy, stupid, cause you agony, loving organs of a woman's body that remind us how much we enjoy life.

Lets travel back in time.  Keep going.  Almost there.  Ok, picture me in the 5th grade.  I'm that sweet, quiet child sitting there, ALL BY HERSELF, without her mother, in the gym, waiting to see the very scary video on becoming a woman.    Did you notice that I said I was there without my mother?  When I first started blogging, I wrote about some of the "fending for myself", being the 2nd oldest of 9 kids, where you can read a little bit about how it was here.

My ovaries were late bloomers.  Ok, not super late, but I didn't start my first period until well into my 13th year.  I remember that I was so embarrassed to talk to my mom about it, (because we never shared that maturation class together) that I didn't even tell her I had started it.  This is going to sound really super gross, but for many years I would just use toilet paper to soak up all the blood.   Looking back now, it is really upsetting to think that I went through this alone.  I remember one vacation we were traveling from Colorado to Utah to see my grandparents.  Started my period on the trip, and kept praying that we would stop for potty breaks more than normal.   

I honestly can not tell you how I happened upon tampons.  I don't know if it was my older sister, or my friends. I can't even remember if I just bought my own.  I think I've blocked it out of my memory.  

Writing about this is actually bringing up all kinds of emotions right now.  I'm pissed off at my mom, even tho I love her, but by damn, I was her daughter,  I was always lost in the shuffle.  I'm sad that it was a embarrassing thing for my mom to talk to me about.  She got better as the younger girls came along, but I missed out.   It makes me wonder if I was ok with my own daughter.  I know that I went to her class, and took her with me before her class to buy tampons, knowing she would ask questions.  And she did.  I felt a emotion right there and then, that by damn, I was there for her.  She would never have to go through what I did.  Dear Mindi, I never wanted you to feel like you couldn't talk to me about anything.   I hope that you always knew that.

Ok, so back to Ovaries.   Guys don't know what they are missing.  Pain, chocolate cravings, crying uncontrollably, but best of all, creating a life that you feel kicking and moving, and wishing that you could feel that feeling "just one more time".  

Now my ovaries are done working.  Yee-freaking-haw.  I figure if I were in charge of the woman's body, there would be a switch that we could "turn off" when we were done having periods.  Having not to go through, oh 20 more years of them after having your last child.  

Can I get an AMEN