I’m Going to Bleed for 21 Days Straight?

It had already been a crazy week in my house. I was the last one to fall ill from the H1N1 virus. I wasn’t pretty. My hair looked like it had been through a Category 4 hurricane. Tissues protruded from each nostril like tusks. I only wore one sock and had no idea what happened to the other one. Sweat dotted my forehead and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered.

Immersed in a fitful and a delirious sleep on the couch, I was in the middle of dreaming I was a beauty pageant contestant about to walk on stage for the swimsuit competition when I heard someone loudly whisper, “Moooooom!” in my ear.

I opened my eyes and through the fog saw my eleven-year-old daughter standing in front of me with a panicked look on her face. “What is it?” I mumbled as I struggled to sit up, wiping the drool off my chin with my sleeve.

She leaned over and whispered, “I think I got my period!”  She pointed her index finger at my chest and warned, “And don’t tell my brother.”

This was the moment I had been dreading. The moment when I had to tell my daughter that being a woman wasn’t just about getting to wear really cool high heels, colorful boas, flowery fragrances, and pretty jewelry. This was the moment when I had to break the news to my daughter about the not-so-fun part of being a woman—the cramping, bloating, mood swings, and the reality that she most likely would never again feel comfortable wearing white pants again.

As I led her into the bathroom to evaluate the situation, she looked up at me. I could see she had a million questions—and I knew I would probably only be able to answer three of them without the assistance of WebMD or Google. As I pulled a potpourri of feminine products out of the bathroom cupboard, she asked in a small voice, “How long will I bleed?” In my delirious state I thought she asked, “How long before I bleed again?”

I sat on the closed toilet seat with my assortment of feminine products on my lap. It was best to be brutally honest. “Twenty-one days.”

Her mouth dropped open and a look of horror crossed her face as she yelled, “I’M GOING TO BLEED FOR TWENTY-ONE DAYS?” She gasped for air and added, “STRAIGHT?”

It only took me a second to realize what had happened. I laughed so hard I blew my tusks right out of my nostrils and my lone sock fell off my foot. “Oh no,” I corrected her. “You’ll only bleed for about five days every month.”

Relief and a tiny shaky smile crossed her face. After that terrifying instant, I suddenly realized that anything else I told her from this point on would seem like a piece of cake. As I continued to talk to her about the pros and cons of each feminine product, I took in the moment. Her face was scrunched in concentration as she tried to comprehend everything I was saying. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. I knew everything was scary and just like every other mother who has been through this moment with their own mother many years before, my heart went out to her. I knew what I needed to do. I grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it reassuringly. “It’ll be okay,” I told her, “We’ll get through this together.  I promise.”

She hugged me and said, “Thanks, Mom.” As we continued to share an intimate conversation that day, I knew that she had taken a big step toward becoming a woman. Just between you and me though, I did decide to leave out the insignificant fact that she’ll be bleeding every month for another forty-four more years in our little tête-à-tête. Instead, I wrapped a colorful boa around each of our necks and together, we danced in the bathroom and happily celebrated the birth of her spirited womanhood.

It was a day both she and I certainly won’t ever forget.

- Vicky De Coster - www.wackywomanhood.com
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She's baaaack ... and badder than ever! A former member of the original Spirited Woman Blogger Team, Vicky DeCoster is an award-winning humor writer and the author of Husbands, Hot Flashes, and All That Hullabaloo! and The Wacky World of Womanhood. She has been published in over 60 magazines, books, and on several web sites. Vicky lives in Nebraska with her husband and two children where she is working on her third book of humorous essays.