Well, this blog has unofficially gone from having a baby to entering menopause. I say "unofficially" because while my hormone levels are technically well in the grooving to the oldies range I'm still having spotty encounters with Aunt Flo, and while I love and honor Auntie in my life, it's really about time she stop popping by. It's not you, it's me. OK, some of it is you. You never call, you're kind of flighty. You're always talking about cats and making a mess. You eat all my chocolate. I'm done.
Anywho, I think the confluence of high hormones and cranky Aunt is making my OBGYN's head explode a little as he has insisted on doing a biopsy. (Because, you know, the medical community… they'll do one study on women in the 80s and then insist that every woman is JUST LIKE those twenty women in the study always!* Then they'll go back to testing important medicine like penile enhancement.) Do you know what a uterine biopsy is like? It's like changing a tire, except instead of using the jack to hike up the car you use that on the girly bits to crank open muscles meant to hold in a baby roughly the weight of a bowling ball. Those muscles? They're like barre workout strong! (I took a barre class once and it kicked my ass. Sore for days.) Then after you've cranked the muscles open, you take a long pokey stick and scrape your insides. Scrape your insides!! Because you get to feel everything. So. Much. Fun.
Well. Two weeks until we get the results for that. Which kind of reminds me of when we were trying to have kid number two; there was a lot of waiting. It wasn't that long ago. I mean, over the course of my whole life, fertility to non-fertility really kind of flew by. Say, if I live to 90 that means only about 30ish years were baby-making years. That's kind of weird. Especially since I started this blog because I had a kid.
But that also means that for most of my life I won't be having periods, so WOOT! New chapter, baby!
*Not based on scientific fact. Just lots of observation.