Josh and Becca Thrap and Family

I debated long and hard about whether or not to write this post and in the end, obviously, I decided to go for it. So, before I get into it, those who are easily offended may wish to stop reading now. So, ok, you are family now, all my life (ok, the last eight years or so) I have been pregnant and nursing. My hormonees have been all out of whack. And while I endured some pregnancy symptoms, miscarriage, grueling labor (ok, I had it easy compared to many…but c’mon, it WAS still LABOR!!!), stitches “down there,” overproductive mammaries, leaking, chapping, chaffing, cracking, stretching, and mastitis, the one thing my body did that tried to compensate for all my suffering was to eliminate the annoying monthly menstruation. That’s right, EIGHT YEARS period free (more or less)! And now that Elena is with us and we feel that our family is complete, I knew that it would just be a matter of time before “Flo” returned. I had actually been wishing to go into early menopause and just be done with the whole crazy cycle altogether, but this was not to be for me. So, as of this morning I have returned to the state of womanhood that we all must inevitably endure. My first thought: “Bears smell the menstruation!” Great! Do I have to worry about bears now?! While you may be thinking–TMI! Please remember that you were warned that you did not have to read this entry. Also, many of you (I actually have no idea who all is reading this blog and just not leaving comments) may remember the fairly graphic emails I’ve sent out in the past when I gave birth to Jacob, when I miscarried, and when my cat Venus died, so this is along those lines. Personal, yes. Graphic, perhaps. Polite table conversation, um..probably not. Still, I figure it is a natural phenomenon which all women share and all men fear–but should make some attempt to understand. Our bodies go through so many incredible changes, it is simply amazing what all we are “built” to do! So while I begrudgingly wander back to the corner of Wal-Mart to discreetly pick up some period paraphanalia, and hope that I’m not headed for a trip down the Nile, I pause to appreciate the near decade that was “The one without menstruation.” And I will return to my place among post-pubescent/pre-menopausal women battleworn and scarred and ready for the next miraculous adventure.