Hey there, Aunt Flo,
Let’s get real. You’re not exactly winning any popularity contests among women. Most of us don’t delight in the monthly visit from you. You’re a major nuisance, and dealing with your antics can be utterly draining. Tampons feel like mini cotton torpedoes, pads remind me of a toddler’s diaper, and don’t even get me started on those bizarre cups—seriously, who thought that was a good idea?
Then there’s the not-so-glamorous side: cramps, bloating, cravings, and mood swings. Honestly, you can be a total nightmare. I’m pretty sure most women would agree.
But here’s the kicker: for women like me—those facing infertility—your monthly drama morphs from just irritating to downright cruel.
I want to have another baby. There, I said it. If only voicing this desire could magically lift the infertility cloud hanging over me. But alas, it’s not that simple. If it were, I’d be shouting from the rooftops about my struggles and then whipping up dinner for a bustling family of six (probably ramen, but I’d be joyful nonetheless).
I cherish my two beautiful kids and understand how fortunate I am that modern medicine has made their existence a reality. I feel truly blessed (yes, I said it, #BLESSED) to be the mother of twin boys. They are my everything, and it seems almost unfathomable that my heart could have room for another child.
But it does. Sometimes, when I watch my boys and think about the joy of them feeling a baby kick in my belly or cradling a new sibling, I can sense a small emptiness in my heart.
Yes, I want another baby. The ache for that dream is palpable—it hurts, truly. From the longing in my heart to the crippling cramps you deliver each month, the pain is all-consuming.
You know the cramps I mean—the painful reminders that once again, I’ve failed to conceive. The ones that signal my body’s inability to do what it was meant to do. The contractions that come when you decide it’s time to shed my embryo-less lining.
I despise you for this.
It’s not just the physical discomfort, the mood swings, or the battle with hygiene products. It’s the mind games you play with me.
Do your symptoms really have to mimic early pregnancy? Every month, I find myself caught in the same cycle: I convince myself you’re not coming, that maybe, just maybe, I’m pregnant. Each time I feel cramps, I tell myself it’s just the little one settling in. The bloating? It must be those pregnancy hormones. My sore breasts? They’re just getting ready for nursing.
And when you finally show up, I feel like you’ve crashed my baby shower with a big “surprise.” You ruin my hopes like a party pooper at the worst moment.
So, I’m writing this letter to vent my frustrations. I know it sounds a little crazy, and maybe it is (infertility has a way of distorting reality). I get that you’re just a biological function, not an actual person. But other women out there, struggling with similar feelings, will understand. We need an outlet for our anger and frustration, something to direct our disdain toward that isn’t our loved ones.
So, on behalf of all of us—
Enough already, Aunt Flo.
If you want to read more about navigating these feelings, check out this insightful piece here. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, take a look at the impregnator at-home insemination kit from a reputable online retailer. For those seeking more information on procedures, the Cleveland Clinic is an excellent resource for understanding pregnancy and home insemination.
Leave a Reply