#I’m either going through an early menopause or something is wrong

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

Not to be dramatic but I’m dying 😵‍💫

[bforbetterthanyou]

I’m curious…what is your opinion of Henry’s relationship with each of his wves?

Oh my goodness gracious, thank you for this, Anon! (This got ridiculously long so I’m putting it under a cut)

Okay I guess I’ll start with Catherine of Aragon since she never gets to go first…

Hot take (not really) but I don’t think she and Henry had this great romantic love. And, for the record, I think it was mutual. I don’t think either of them loved each other in a romantic way. However, I also don’t think that Henry married her because he was forced to…because who forced him? His father? Yeah, Henry claimed later on that he only married Catherine because it was his father’s “dying wish” (or something to that effect) but we don’t know if that’s actually true and also, Henry denounced the betrothal in 1505 and no one forced him to go through with it regardless. And, certainly, none of the naysayers were forcing him to go through with it. Catherine apologists make so much of Henry uses the “brother’s widow” excuse during the Great Matter and completely gloss over the fact that there were multiple people also citing this as a reason during the period of Catherine’s widowhood.

I think, what it came down to, was that Henry knew that Catherine had been living in wealthy poverty and was maybe not being treated very kindly by his father, and Henry was also dealing with his own poor treatment by his father, and so Henry saw himself as this knight in shining armor rescuing the damsel in distress. Of course, Henry and Catherine had also known each other for almost a decade—it’s hard to know exactly what their relationship was like during those years because I doubt they really interacted much, but if Catherine was kind to him then that would add to why Henry was so okay with ignoring the naysayers. And then, in the early years of their marriage, Henry came to admire and respect her.

Where things get complicated is the issue of their children. I remember once seeing this article Suzannah Lipscomb wrote where she speculated how their marriage would be if Henry, Duke of Cornwall had lived and Suzannah made it out to be that everything was all rainbows and sunshine and she was his beloved wife forever etc etc. That’s great, Suzy, but I really don’t think it’s, at all, realistic. Certainly, if Catherine had had a healthy son who survived, Henry wouldn’t have divorced her even after she hit menopause. But Ithink it’s very optimistic to say their marriage would’ve been perfect. Obviously, losing so many children didn’t help. But, like I said, I don’t think Henry was deeply in love with her, so I think it’s inevitable that he would’ve strayed (I guess is the right word?).

On to Anne (strap in y’all this already way too long answer is gonna get even longer).

So I mentioned how I don’t think Henry was really romantically in love with Catherine. I think that Anne was the first time (and the last time actually) that Henry genuinely, properly, fell in love with someone (sorry Bessie stans…do those exist? Probably…somewhere…I definitely feel like I’ve seen at least one person try to argue that Bessie was the great love of his life). Anyway, yeah I think Henry had all of these grand romantic ideas about himself and he believed himself to be in love with every pretty girl…and then he met Anne and his brain just short-circuited. (And, who can blame him, I mean Anne Boleyn is obviously the most perfect woman whose ever existed, I’m in love with her 😂). In all seriousness, Henry didn’t have the great passionate love with Catherine but he definitely had it with Anne. We could talk about what went wrong in that relationship, but I’ve already stated my opinion on that and almost got run off of Tumblr for it.

So moving on to Jane…

Oh dear. It amazes me how many people still believe Henry’s own propaganda. So, unfortunately, for those of you, it’s very clear to me that Henry never loved Jane at all. He treated her pretty poorly while she was alive. I think she appealed to him because she wasn’t Anne. After she died, he fell head over heels with the idea of her. But that’s about it.

Now, lucky number 4.

I feel like I don’t really need to say much about this one. Henry made his feelings about Anna pretty clear.

I guess I could talk about their post-divorce relationship. What’s sad is that I think Anna could’ve actually been good for him. She comes across as a pretty chill person, but she also enjoyed a lot of the same things that he enjoyed. I think, if Henry had just not done that stupid thing of thinking that he was still 20 years old and that Anna would magically recognize him somehow, then I think they could’ve been brilliant together.

Onto Katheryn number 2.

I feel like this one is pretty self-explanatory. Henry was getting old, he couldn’t exercise like he used to, he had mobility issues, he was becoming obese…and Katheryn made him feel young again. What’s interesting comparing Katheryn and Anne’s downfall—Anne died because she was powerful, Katheryn died because she was powerless.I mean, it’s not insignificant that Katheryn’s downfall took months while Anne’s took just a few weeks. Obviously, the suspicion of Katheryn committing adultery was embarrassing for him, but she stuck around so long under house arrest because the only real threat Katheryn posed was to Henry’s ego.

Yee-haw, it’s Kathryn Parr (any Rex Factor fans out there?)

This one I also feel like is pretty self-explanatory. By this point, Henry has alienated and killed everyone who ever cared about him so, naturally, he’s feeling pretty lonely. What I find most interesting is that Kathryn was older and more mature and, obviously learned. I think with Jane, especially, and to a lesser-extent, Katheryn, Henry was kind of over intelligent women who could stand up to him. But I get the sense that, after Katheryn’s execution, he kind of got tired of the subservient wife. I think Henry actually preferred intelligent, feisty women, but things had gone so horribly wrong with Anne that he wanted the opposite. But then he quickly got bored of the opposite. Obviously, at this point in Henry’s life he’s really not interested in anyone standing up to him or trying to impose their opinions on him, but he still wanted someone he could have a conversation with. And Kathryn, bless her, was clever enough to match him intellectually without pushing the boundaries too much.

Wow, this got so insanely long. I’ll put it under a cut so it doesn’t clog up anyone’s feed.

But, you know, when I really spell it out like this, it just emphasizes how frustrating it is when all the wives get lumped together and the last few even get largely ignored. Because, for all of them, their circumstances for becoming Henry’s wife were completely different, and all of their relationships with him are completely different. People act like him having six wves was inevitable or that his choices were completely random. On one level, I can understand why people lump them together in this neat “Six Wives” package but doing that completely ignores the fact that they were individuals, not just a part of this rotating door of arbitrarily chosen women.

[romantic-reveries]

I feel like I’m losing my mind, you know?

Some days are better than others, but something just feels wrong. The last six months have felt wrong. It started at the end of last year, like a thread unraveling.

My manager at my old job yelled at me back in September, and it struck me in such a way that I ended up crying in the bathroom for nearly an hour after. Truly, I don’t know if anyone has been that cruel to me to my face before.

Just a couple days later, my grandma told me the place she works was hiring - better pay, Monday through Friday instead of having to work Saturdays like I was, and getting to work with my grandma? Ideal. It felt meant to be, so I took it. And I love the job itself, and I love the work environment of the office, and I love my coworkers. The boss is… a little unstable, but he’s not around much, so it’s bearable. The job insecurity is unsettling - it’s an open secret that he’s struggling to meet payroll because of how irresponsible he is with money. His turnover for bookkeepers is crazy high. But all-in-all, it’s not awful.

That said, there’s been a marked turn in both my grandma and I’s demeanor in the last six months, and I don’t know what else to attribute it to if we’re both experiencing it. Stress? Or some kind of toxin exposure? Mold? I don’t fucking know. It makes no sense.

I’ve been missing months of my period since September. I might be in pre-menopause at 30? And I’ve been having worse sinus and reflux issues than ever. I’ve been emotionally all over the place, which I considered could be hormones. My grandma has been more cranky and irritable than I can remember her ever being, and her blood pressure has been high, and her neuropathy is bothering her more, and now she’s got shingles on top of it all. I don’t even remember either of us feeling this bad when she had cancer in my early twenties. And obviously she was younger, so I could almost rationalize her responding to things differently after a few years, but what about me?

I just genuinely feel like I’m drowning lately.

And it isn’t even just us - my boyfriend has been sick a ton lately. He mentioned the other day that he normally gets sick during the summer (he used to be prone to pneumonia), but last summer, I don’t remember him really being sick at all. We were constantly going and adventuring. We have the same amount of time now as we did then - we still only see each other every other weekend. But it felt like a lot a year ago. Now it feels like barely anything.

Like, is it just working full-time? Did it just take me a certain amount of time to feel the effects? I just don’t understand and it makes me want to cry. I don’t know what’s going on with anything and it feels wrong.

And I keep trying to do all the right things, right? I’m trying to eat well and exercise regularly - something I’ve never stuck to for this long before - and say the positive affirmations and try not to drown in my melancholy because it isn’t productive, but I feel so stretched thin, I don’t know how there are people thriving. I’m functioning, but I feel like a robot. I do what I must and then I crash. So why isn’t it working? Why am I doing all the things they say you should to feel better and it isn’t working?

[binniedeactivated]

txt reactions. || 👾👾

I saw a national children’s day post earlier and got inspired so I’d like to bless ya’ll with some fluff!

(yes I included the maknaes,, even though they are still young I think they would make amazing fathers in the future🥺)

TXT finding out you’re pregnant ....

soobin; it was the same time around soobin’s birthday. you’d been getting so nauseous and sick the past couple of weeks and you had an idea of what was going on, you just weren’t sure. gathering up your courage you decide to buy a couple of tests from the drug store, trying to settle the issue once and for all. you’re heart sunk to the floor once the two small lines appeared on the mini screen. you checked the box a thousand times to make sure the two lines meant you were pregnant. you read it over again trying to make sure you weren’t losing your mind. but you weren’t. you were pregnant. you were kind of freaked out about it so you didn’t know how to tell soobin, in words especially. once he went off to work on songs and dances with the boys, you went out to the store and bought a small t shirt. a baby one that snapped cutely at the bottom. you bought a gift bag and some tissue paper and piled it to the top so soobin had no idea what he was in for. once soobin came home your palms immediately became sweaty. you tried your hardest not to show your nerves. “hey baby. you okay? how was your day today?”. he’d ask. “it was good. I still feel kind of sick though. I bought you something while i went out”. you’d say, shoving the bag in his chest. he’d grasp it smirking, “what’s this?”.  “it’s a shirt that kind of reminded me of you. I thought you’d like it”. you explain with your heart pounding. soobin throws layers and layers of tissue paper on the floor until he got to the very bottom of the bag. he clutches the t shirt and unfolds it in the air to get a better look at it. his eyes widened once he saw that it was a baby’s shirt that read, “I’ve got the best daddy ever”. 

“are you really-?”. he trailed off with his mouth agape. 

“yes soobin”.

soobin drops everything and hugs you, kissing you on your cheeks. “I love you and we got this alright? don’t be scared”. he was trying to be as affectionate as possible but he was jittering on the inside. a little soobin? oh he couldn’t wait.

yeonjun; yeonjun tried to be as patient as he could with you. he thought maybe you were on your period so that’s why you’ve been grumpy these past couple of weeks. the funny thing was, your period had already passed. you couldn’t explain the reasons for your emotions. they were just there and you had no control over them. you cried over every wrong thing yeonjun did. he bought you the wrong flavor ice cream, the wrong sized shoe, the wrong sized clothes. usually you’d shrug these types of things off so you couldn’t believe yourself when you actually began tearing up. you thought maybe you were going through an early menopause or something, you were quite terrified of what was happening to you. you went to the doctor’s office as soon as yeonjun was out of sight. you couldn’t believe your ears when the doctor told you that you were two months pregnant. you told him he had to be lying to you. but it was kind of hard to lie once he rubbed the aquasonic gel on your tummy and placed the probe against it. you saw a tiny being growing inside you on the screen. you also heard some weird sounds to which the doctor was telling you it was your baby’s heart beat. you could cry; as emotional as you were. 

your nerves were already wrecked and to make matters worse you didn’t know how you were going to tell yeonjun. he enters the house that night and you glare over at him. he immediately sighs, knowing you were going to cry over something stupid once again. “you know what babe? maybe we just need some time alone from each other”. he finalizes. “i don’t need time alone. why don’t you want to be with me? you’re supposed to be there for me through everything not just leave”. 

“I’m not leaving. but your attitude is really getting the best of you and I don’t want to lash out on you”. 

“then don’t”. 

“see? it’s smart remarks like that that pisses me off and you know that”. yeonjun snaps. you didn’t know why his attitude grew another type of anger inside you. you took the envelope from your lap and threw it at his head. 

“and now you’re throwing things?”. yeonjun complains while picking the envelope up off the floor. he was going to toss it to the side until he realized it was from the medical office and it had your name on it. “wait what is this?”.

he questions before opening it and sliding the folded ultrasound pictures out of the slot. once they were out for him to see all of them unfolded and he saw it with a full view. his eyes were as wide as moons and he pushes his lips together humming frantically. “baby! you serious?!”. it was kind of cute how his attitude had went away. you folded your arms. 

“two months”. yeonjun smiles and punches the air. “yes!! yes! you know what? I should tell the guys. nah first i’m going to tell my mom. or my grandma. as a matter of fact i’ll wait until we know the gender I hope it’s a boy. he’s going to be a sexy beast like his daddy. if it’s a girl she’ll be so spoiled i swear--”. 

yeonjun babbles, going on and on about his plans. you wanted to continue being angry. but your new soon to be father was just too cute for your eyes.

beomgyu; you knew already. from the constant peeing to the puking you knew what was up. beomgyu didn’t though so it was kind of hard to keep letting him cater to you day after day. he’d leave work early just to come home to you and make sure you were well fed and taken care of. he’d even stop by the store and pick up some medicine to help you feel better. whatever was wrong with you he hoped to god it wasn’t anything serious. more than anything else he loved spending time and having fun with you and it was kind of hard when you were sick like this. well at least, he thought you were sick. you were thankful for everything he was doing so there was no way you were going to keep this secret from him any longer. however you didn’t want to tell him with your own words. you decided to call yeonjun. “hello?”. he answers, “hey yeonjun i have to tell you something”.   “listen if beomgyu once again turned the washing machine on forgetting he had to put clothes in it, that was his own stupidity and i’m not in charge of controlling him”. 

you laugh, “what? no. that sounds like something he’d do. and it kind of worries me considering what I’m about to tell you”. 

“what is it?”. 

“I’m pregnant. alright? what I’m going to call for a delivery to the studio to surprise him. I want you to record everything. don’t tell him”. 

“holy shit he’s going to be a parent? god bless you”. you laugh again, “yeonjun record it!”. “I will”. he promises. 

beomgyu had been practicing really hard today. trying to get the moves correct before the soon to come show. all the members were against the wall on their phones or carrying on. they had the moves down already so there was no need for constant rehearsal for them. but for beomgyu this was the peak of his stress. he watches himself attentively in the mirror until a delivery guy walks in out of the blue. 

“delivery for Choi Beomgyu”, he informs, with a big box of diapers in his hand. beomgyu turns around confused. “diapers?”. the delivery guy nods and the members are on the wall staring with just as much confusion. all except for yeonjun who was recording like you’d ask. the guy hands beomgyu the box and he instantly shoots a look to the rest of the members. “quit trying to be funny. this was a weak joke”. 

“it wasn’t from us”. yeonjun smiles with his phone camera pointed at a frustrated gyu. “oh yeah? then whose it from?”. “your girlfriend”. beomgyu looks back at the box in his hands and think for a moment. “why would she send me a box of---”. and it was clear that his lightbulb had went off. he dropped the box and started jumping around like a lunatic. “babe! baby! is she on the phone with you yeonjun?! is that her?!!”. he screams while the rest of the members clap and laugh. “she told me to record your reaction”. 

“I’m going to be a fucking dad!! holy shit!!”. he screams to the top of his lungs.

taehyun; oh boy. it was a battle between you and taehyun. it was you trying to figure out how you were going to tell him that you were, versus him trying to figure out how he was going to tell you that he already knew. either way it goes, you both knew there was soon to be a little taehyun on board. you’d get all the symptoms, fatigue/exhaustion, cramping, peeing and vomiting. taehyun would do his research on how to comfort you better or how he typed it in his search bar, “how to comfort a pregnant woman”. for some reason taehyun was very knowledgeable on this type of thing. to taehyun it was easy. you were acting out of character way too often and it was often companioned by a stream of odd emotions that he couldn’t explain. something was definitely off about you and it wasn’t hard for him to know exactly what it was. he wouldn’t get angry at anything, he’d rather hold your hands and calmly tell you to relax and that things were going to be okay. he’d ask you if there was anything you wanted from him and if you wanted him to cook your favorite foods before he was off to work. you weren’t far along but you were feeling fat already. you felt yourself get kind of heavier and as a result you ached more than normal. taehyun would run you warm baths and compliment you often. you only let a couple more weeks pass by before you gained the courage. you woke up one saturday morning determined that he was going to know. but there was way too much noise in your house and before you did anything you had to know what it was. you painfully walked to where the noise was coming from and there was taehyun in a black sweat suit with his hat turned backwards. he was sweating and you were trying to figure out what he was doing. 

“taehyun? why are you making so much noise?”. 

“I’m moving things”. 

“for what?”. 

taehyun pushes the dresser in the hallway to the side. he pushes open the door that was behind it. once you saw the view you could just cry. he was turning one of the empty rooms inside your house into a nursery. He already started painting it grey and yellow and adding elephant teddies on the furniture. you held your heart in awe.

“taehy--”. 

“yes i know already”, he laughs. “you’re going to be such a good mommy”.

kai; you have been missing kai like crazy. and even more with your hormones raging now that you know you’re 3 months along.  you couldn’t believe that you guys were going to be parents. it was insane. kai, the chaotic and you, his sidekick? you didn’t know how this baby would turn out. maybe just as crazy as kai. maybe just as crazy as you. maybe a little bit of both. either way you didn’t mind. kai had been touring these past three months and it was especially hard for you receiving the news on your own. he’d face time you quite often and you had to try your best to be normal and to not let your emotions get the best of you. it would be another couple of weeks until he came back but you couldn’t wait any longer. the secret was eating you alive and you figured he had to know one of these days. you and taehyun had been working together to figure out a plan for the surprise. yes, you picked taehyun because you figured out of all the members he’d probably be more organized with this. 

and you were definitely right. it was late and the boys were performing in Kai’s hometown. Honolulu, Hawaii and what a better feeling was it to get this news while he already felt at home? After performing more than half of their newest album, The Dream Chapter: Eternity the boys were more than exhausted. But they couldn’t forget their end of show ritual of talking with MOAS and having a good time with them before they were back on the road. each of the boys gave a separate small speech about their love for moas and how they appreciated them. Taehyun however, assured MOAS that he loved them but he had an even better speech in mind, and that his was especially for kai. The lights in the stadium dimmed at taehyun’s command like he planned, and the giant screen behind them glowed a soft yellow color. There was baby footprints, and a poem that read, 

“Mommy told me your name was kai, so I wanted to tell daddy that I said Hi!”.

within an instant the members were screaming and jumping around along with moas. Kai was shocked. but he was so happy he’d be raising a child with you. he raised the microphone to say something but he couldn’t. his lip trembled and he immediately started crying out of pure joy. 

[jeannereames]

FUN Things about Getting Older

So sometimes being “old” is presented as a problem, especially for women, and sure, there’s nothing like sitting on the couch for an hour, answering email, then getting up only to go, “Ow, ow, ow.” Or not wearing heels because you’ve got Bunyons from Hell. Never mind the 10+ pounds for each decade.

BUT, there are some definite perks:

#1: NO MORE FUCKING PERIODS. Yeah, yeah, peri-menopause and menopause have their own issues (hot-flashes SUCK), but there are pretty effective over-the-counter drugs to minimize those. And NO MORE FUCKING PERIODS!  Can we get an “Amen”?

#1a: No more concerns about getting pregnant. Worry-free sex, y’all. At least if you’re in a relationship where that’s a concern.

#2 GRAY HAIR. Yeah, yeah, everybody whines about it and tries to dye it, and for a while, okay, sure. But silver hair is pretty awesome. It does make gold jewelry less flattering, but stop trying to keep your tresses dark after you’re 50, or even 45. It’s not a good look; it’s harsh on the face (the lighter the skin, the worse it looks). If you’re a blond or lighter brown, maybe you can go longer…but WHY? Let the silver come in. Stop playing the stupid game of clinging to youth when you can rock the silver. Do you have any idea how often I get compliments on my gray hair? A LOT. Okay, I have nice hair; it’s my vanity, but still. If I’d realized how many compliments I’d get, I’ve have let it go to natural sooner!

#3 While aging can make you less visible in some ways (nobody whistles at you on the street—not necessarily a BAD thing), it makes you more visible in others—especially if you rock that gray hair. “I want to speak to the manager right now,” carries more weight at 50 than 30. If I’m pissed off, people tend to listen more—even younger men. Older men can still be jackasses, but I find I have less patience as I age, too. It’s a different sort of visibility, but I’m okay with that.

#4 You have a better sense of perspective and proportion. Events happening in the present may correlate to memories of the past, which can make them scarier…or less scary. Either way, one becomes more adept at correctly analyzing the significance of events either personal or public. It’s called “long view.” (So, for instance, I watch the impeachment debates not just with a memory of Clinton’s, but a memory of Nixon’s. I was 10 years old; I sat there listening to his resignation speech as my father recorded it on an old-style tape-recorder, as it was so historic. We had no idea then what the future would hold for recording, but somewhere in my boxes, I still have my father’s tape-recording of that speech!)

#5 You know better what you want out of life. I’d say that’s the big thing. I was a weird kid in many ways. I had a “sense of destiny” young. Looking back at myself, I sort of laugh. But I knew I wanted to be a writer at 11. I knew I wanted to teach college at 18. And I went on to do both those things. MOST people aren’t like that, and it’s okay. Not everybody is a freaky intense ambitious nutjob of a teenager. LOL. Also, I did a lot of other jobs along the way. I’ve been an editor, I’ve done bereavement counseling, et al. So the road hasn’t necessarily been a straight one. And that’s GOOD. Life should throw everybody some curve balls, so we learn how to adapt.

#6 YOU’VE FAILED. By the time we reach 50, most of us have suffered at least one major failure: personal, career-wise, something—and often, more than one. That’s good.

Don’t laugh. It’s good. Failure is the fire that purifies. If you don’t fail—and seriously fail—you won’t ever truly succeed.

Failure makes us kinder, softer, more patient. When I was young, despite coming from a family on the Other Side of the Tracks, I had a lot of successes. I was meant to lift up my family; I had the brains. I was the first of my generation not just to go to college, but to grad school. So yeah, I’m a first-generation college student.

It made me an arrogant little shit.

I’ve been interested in Alexander the Great for a long time, since my early 20s, and one of my advisors during my counseling training told me, “You like Alexander because you think you are Alexander.” I wanted to argue with her, but looking back…yeah. She was right. He was young, brash, intelligent, gifted, and so was I. I could do no wrong. And for a while, most things went my way, because I was brash, intelligent, and gifted, but with a healthy dollop of due caution.

Yet I wasn’t always kind. I was (for the ‘90s) “woke,” but in the worst way. To be truly woke requires compassion even for one’s opponents. Instead, I judged those who I didn’t think were as “with it” as I was. I’d had painful things happen earlier. My mother had a heart attack when I was 17 and I was left to run the household, but my father protected me from the worst of it. I still went to college, then grad school. My mother died when I was 33, but again, I was insulated from much.

My late 30s/40s broke me. And that was a good thing. I dealt with a lot of personal failures and life struggles. I got divorced. My son was ADHD, and suffered depression plus other issues that we had to work through. (He’s fine now.) I had to help care for my aging father dealing with dementia until his death in 2017. These are real world issues that remind one of human frailty, and how little we really control. I came out kinder (I hope). More patient with my students. More aware of all the hooks of humanity that can drag down even those who badly want to succeed.

But that’s AGE. That’s failure. That’s suffering.

And I wish it on all of you. Not to be mean, but because it will make you better people. Some of you will have met these challenges much earlier. But by 50, most people will have faced at least one major failure. I hope you weren’t insulated from it. I hope you bore the brunt of it.

Because it will make you better. Kinder, more patient. That’s the true GRACE of age. Don’t fear it. Embrace it. This is the difference between wisdom and knowledge. I was lucky in my parents, and they, in turn, were mostly lucky in theirs My maternal grandfather had only an 8th grade education. But he was an Elder, the wisest man I’ve ever known. I hope that, someday, I’m as wise as he was.

Age is good. Look forward to it.

(share as you see fit.)

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 4c

Duffy smothered a yawn as she peered over his shoulder at the letter.

“Am I keeping you awake, Mrs Fairhead?”

"I'm fine!" She retorted sharply.

“Clearly.” He rolled his eyes.

"Just focus on the letter." She grumbled.

“I am. You’re very grumpy.” He teased.

"I'm not." She sulked.

“Not even a little bit.” He turned and kissed her lips. “You’re so sexy.”

"And you're incapable of keeping your hands to yourself!" She replied, reaching for the letter with a frustrated sigh.

“That’s because you’re so sexy.”

She immediately became distracted by the second page of the letter. "Have you seen this?!"

“No what is it?”

"A two week residential trip to Europe. She's only thirteen!"

“Oh wow, when?”

"Easter holidays. I know what you're going to say, she'll be fourteen by then but still..!"

“Yes she’ll be fourteen but I think we should let her go. If she wants to.”

"I just worry about her being so far away."

“I know. But we can’t wrap her in cotton wool forever. No matter how much I’d like to do that.”

"She's just growing up too quickly."

“Yeah she really is.”

"Its a fantastic opportunity for her."

“Yeah it really is. Shall we talk to her about it?”

"Its only fair to see what she wants to do."

“My thoughts exactly.”

They lapsed into quiet for a few moments.

“Is there... Anything else bothering you?” Charlie asked quietly.

"Other than the fact you've turned this house into a sauna..." She rolled her eyes.

“I haven’t touched the heating.”

"Well I haven't!"

“Fancy an early night?”

"Hmm..."

“You don’t have to, of course.” He smiled.

"We should probably tidy up first."

“Good point.” He smiled.

They moved into the kitchen to tidy up. Duffy wasn't sure why she was so antsy.

There was a comfortable silence as they cleaned the kitchen. “You don’t think you’re starting the menopause, do you?”

Duffy stopped midway through wiping the worktop, her head flying up. "What?! Don't be ridiculous!"

“Ok.” He returned to cleaning the kitchen.

"Is it because I accused you of fiddling with the heating?"

“No. It’s just...” He shrugged, “I just wondered that’s all.”

"Oh, so now not only am I fat I'm old too... Great! Thanks!" She retorted, slamming the cloth in her hands down on the worktop. "I'm going to bed!" She told him before storming out of the kitchen.

“I never said you were old or fat!” He called back and sighed heavily.

The only response he got was the sound of their bedroom door slamming shut.

He rubbed the back of his neck. What was wrong with her?

Duffy sat on the bed in tears, the drawer of her bedside table open beside her. The box inside was taunting her, demanding she open it and swallow the contents, that it was the only way...

He went upstairs and towards their bedroom. “Babe?” He sighed, “Baby, talk to me?”

Hearing his voice she pushed the drawer shut, hiding the diet pills from his sight. "I'm... I'm OK, I'm just tired." She lied.

“Just tired? Are you sure?”

"Yeh, it's been a long day." She forced a smile as he entered the room.

He closed their bedroom door and began to get ready for bed. “Cuddle?”

She hesitated slightly before letting him wrap his arms around her, unable to hide the fact she was shivering.

“You’re shivering.”

"Maybe I'm getting a cold." She shrugged, hoping he'd buy her excuses.

“Really?”

"It would explain why I was hot earlier and cold now." She replied, hoping she didn't sound like she was babbling in a panic.

“Duffy, what’s going on?”

"Its just a cold." She replied, forcing herself to cough.

“Babe?”

"Yeh?" She replied between coughs.

He wrapped her up in the blanket and duvet before cuddling her tightly. “Get some sleep.” He kissed her head.

"OK." She sniffled.

Charlie was asleep within minutes, his arm around Duffy’s waist.

Duffy waited til she was sure Charlie was asleep before slowly moving out of his arms and reopening the drawer.

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

Duffy jumped, shut the drawer and slipped from the bed. She crossed the room and opened the door.

It was Emily. She was rubbing her stomach.

"You feeling poorly princess?"

Emily nodded. “Can I have a cuddle?”

"Of course you can." Duffy smiled, holding out her arms towards her eldest daughter. "I'm glad you're not quite getting too old for this just yet."

“I think I’ll always need my mummy cuddles.” Emily admitted quietly.

"Do you want to go get a glass of water?"

Emily nodded, “Please.”

They went downstairs and each got a glass of water before settling on the sofa.

“Thank you.” Emily took the glass of water and sipped it.

"Is this all because of what you told me earlier?" Duffy asked gently.

Emily nodded, “I think so.”

"Its hard when someone you care about is hurting. Is... Is he more than a friend?"

The teen nodded once again. “Sort of.”

"Is it someone you're sweet on? Don't worry, I won't tell your dad." Duffy reassured.

“Oh no.” Emily blushed, “Nothing like that. I...” She giggled nervously.

"OK. You do know you can talk to me about that sort of thing though?"

“About boys?” Emily blushed scarlet.

"Yeh."

“I’m not interested in boys yet.” Emily giggled.

"Is that so?" Duffy chuckled.

Emily nodded. “They’re all lame! Especially when they think they’re been cool.” She drank from the water again.

"That doesn't change as they get older, believe me!" Duffy laughed.

“Urgh.” Emily rolled her eyes.

"Your dad still shows off to try and impress me."

“You and dad have been together for ages!”

"And yet..!" Duffy snorted.

“Dad says if it wasn’t for me you two wouldn’t be together..."

"We'd both tried to walk away from each other so many times. We knew what we were doing was wrong. Then I fell pregnant with you and we knew we couldn't keep running from the truth."

“I’m glad you and dad didn’t keep running. Cos... You’re both in love and you need each other.”

"My life was such a mess back then but knowing you were growing inside me kept me going, kept me fighting."

Emily smiled and nodded. “In my own little way, I guess I tried to help.”

"You did. You meant so much to both of us right from the start."

Emily rested her head against her mum’s shoulder. “You and dad mean so much to me too.”

"I can't quite believe you're going to be fourteen in a few weeks time." Duffy sighed, stroking Emily's hair.

“I’m getting old.” Emily answered back.

Duffy held her daughter tightly, hoping that once more she'd find the strength to fight her demons.

Emily hugged her mum, stroking her hair slightly. “Mama?”

"Mmhmm?"

“Why didn’t I get red hair like you?” Emily pouted.

"It was red when you were a baby. I still see a hint of it in your hair now."

“Your hair is gorgeous, mama.”

"We can always colour yours if you want? I'll need to do mine again soon."

Emily nodded, then didn’t say anything.

"I'm sure your school won't mind as long as it's nothing too whacky."

“Something like rainbow colours?” Emily giggled. “That would be Tilly.”

"Yeh, don't give her ideas!" Duffy chuckled.

“She’s another one that’s just like you, mama."

"So everyone keeps telling me."

“You sure you’re ok, mama?”

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Emily shrugged. “I read too much into things, I think.”

"What do you think is wrong?" Duffy asked tentatively.

Emily smiled sadly, “I dunno. But there’s something mama.”

"I've been getting more tired and achy than usual recently but I'm sure if I push through it I'll be fine."

Emily nodded, “You don’t seem as happy either.”

"Its just a passing phase, I'm sure things will look up soon."

“Do you have depression like daddy?”

"Not officially but I have had other issues in the past that can affect my mood."

“What things are those?” Emily asked.

Duffy hesitated. She wasn't sure she should be discussing these things with her daughter.

[yuckitup-jwd]

Men VS Women

Women have many faults Men only have 2 Everything they say And everything they do

RELATIONSHIPS: First, a man does not call a relationship a relationship - he refers to it as "that time when me and Suzie were boinking on a semi-regular basis."

When a relationship ends, a woman will cry and pour her heart out to her girlfriends, and she will write a poem titled "All Men Are Idiots." Then she will get on with her life.

A man has a little more trouble letting go. Six months after the breakup at 3 am early on a Sunday morning - he will call and say "I just wanted to let you know you ruined my life, and I'll never forgive you, and I hate you, and you're a total floozy. But I want you to know there's always a chance for us." This is known as the "I Hate You/I Love You" drunken phone call, that 99% of all men have made at least once. There are community colleges that offer courses to help men get over this need; alas these classes rarely prove effective.

SEX: Women prefer 30-45 minutes of foreplay.

Men prefer 30-45 seconds of foreplay. Men consider driving back to her place as part of the foreplay.

MATURITY: Women mature much faster than men. Most 17-year-old females can function as adults.

Most 17-year-old males are still trading baseball cards and giving each other wedgies after gym class. This is why high school romances rarely work out.

COMEDY: Let's say a small group of men and women are in a room, watching tele- vision, and an episode of "The Three Stooges" comes on. Immediately, the men will get very excited - they will laugh uproariously, and even try to imitate the actions of Curly, man's favorite Stooge.

The women will roll their eys, groan, and wait it out.

HANDWRITING: To their credit, men do not decorate their penmanship. They just chicken-scratch.

Women use scented, colored stationery and they dot their "i's" with circles and hearts. Women use ridiculously large loops in their "p's" and "g's." It is a royal pain to read a note from a woman. Even when she's dumping you, she'll put a smiley face at the end of the note.

BATHROOMS: A man has at most seven items in his bathroom - a toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, shampoo, a bar of soap, and a towel from the Holiday Inn.

The average number of items in a typical woman's bathroom is 437. A man would not be able to identify most of these items.

MAGAZINES: Men's magazines often feature pictures of naked women.

Women's magazines also feature pictures of naked women. This is because the female body is a beautiful work of art, while the male body is hairy and lumpy and should not be seen by the light of day.

GROCERIES: A woman makes a list of things she needs and then goes to the store and buys these things.

A man waits until the only items left in his fridge are half of a lemon, and something turning green. Then he goes grocery shopping. He buys everything that looks good. By the time he reaches the checkout counter, his cart is packed tighter than the Clampett's car on The Beverley Hillbillies. Of course, this will not stop him from going to the 10-items-or-less lane.

GOING OUT: When a man says he's ready to go out, it means he's ready to go out.

When a woman says she's ready to go out, it means that she WILL be ready to go out, as soon as she finds her other earring, finishes putting on her makeup...

SHOES: When preparing for work, a woman will put on a Mondi wool suit, and then slip into Reebok sneakers. She will carry her dress shoes in a plastic bag from Saks. When she arrives at work, she will put on her dress shoes. Five minutes later, she will kick them off because her feet are under her desk.

A man wears one pair of shoes for the entire day.

CATS: Women love cats.

Men say they love cats, but when women aren't looking, men kick cats.

MIRRORS: Men are vain; they will check themselves out in the mirror.

Women are ridiculous; they will check out their reflections in any shiny surface - mirrors, spoons, store windows, toasters, Joe Garagiola's head...

GARAGES: Women use garages to park their cars and to store their lawnmowers.

Men use garages for many things. They hang license plates in garages, they watch TV in garages, and they build useless wooden things in garages.

MOVIES: For women, their favorite movie scene is when Clark Gable kisses Vivien Leigh for the first time in "Gone With The Wind."

For men, it's when Jimmy Cagney shoves a grapefruit in Mae Clark's face in "Public Enemy."

JEWELRY: Women look nice when they wear jewelry.

A man can get away with wearing one ring, and that's it. Any more than that, and he will look like a lounge singer named Vic.

MENOPAUSE: When a woman reaches menopause, she goes through a variety of complicated emotional, psychological, and biological changes. The nature and degree of the changes varies with the individual.

Menopause in a man provokes a uniform reaction. He buys aviator glasses, a snazzy French cap, leather driving gloves, and goes shopping for an expensive foreign sports car.

THE TELEPHONE: Men see the telephone as a communications tool. They use the telephone to send short messages to other people.

A woman can visit her girlfriend for two weeks, and upon returning home, she will call the same friend and they will talk for three hours.

LOW BLOWS: Let's say a man and a woman are watching a boxing match on television, and one of the fighters is felled by a low blow.

The woman says, "Oh, gee, that must hurt."

The man doubles over and actually feels the pain.

DIRECTIONS: If a woman is out driving and she finds herself in unfamiliar surroundings, she will stop at a gas station and ask for directions.

Men consider this to be a sign of weakness. A man will never stop and ask for directions. Men will drive in a circle for hours, all the while saying things like, "Looks like I've found a new way to get there," and, "I know I'm in the neighborhood. I recognize that White Hen store."

ADMITTING MISTAKES: Women will sometimes admit making a mistake.

The last man who admitted that he was wrong was General George Custer.

RICHARD GERE: Women like Richard Gere because he is sexy in a dangerous way.

Men hate Richard Gere because he reminds them of that slick guy who works out at the health club and dates only married women.

DRESSING UP: A woman will dress up to go shopping, water the plants, empty the garbage, answer the phone, read a book, get the mail...

A man will dress up for: weddings and funerals.

NUDITY IN MOVIES: Every actress in the history of movies has had to do a nude scene. This is because every movie in the history of movies has been produced by men.

The only actor who has ever appeard nude in the movies is Richard Gere. This is another reason why men hate him.

DAVID LETTERMAN: Men think David Letterman is the funniest man on the face of the earth.

Women think he is a mean, semi-dorky guy who always has a bad haircut.

CAMERAS: Men take photography very seriously. They'll shell out $4000 for state- of-the-art equipment, and build darkrooms, and take photography classes.

Women purchase Kodak Insta-matics, and often produce better-looking shots.

POLITICS: Men love to talk about politics, but they often forget to do political things such as voting.

Women are very happy that another generation of Kennedys are growing up and getting into politics, because they will be able to campaign for them and cry on election night.

LOCKER ROOMS: In the locker room, men talk about three things: money, football, and women. They exaggerate about money, they don't know football nearly as well as they think they do, and they fabricate stories about women.

Women talk about one thing in the locker room - sex. Not in abstract terms, either. They're graphic and technical, and they *never* lie.

LAUNDRY: Women do laundry every couple of days.

A man will wear every article of clothing he owns, including his surgical pants that were hip about eight years ago, before he will do his laundry. When he is finally out of clothes, he will wear a dirty sweatshirt inside out, rent a U-Haul and take his mountain of clothes to the laundromat, and expect to meet a beautiful woman while he is there.

WEDDINGS: When reminiscing about weddings, women talk about the "ceremony."

Men talk about "the bachelor party."

GYM SOCKS: Men wear sensible socks. They wear standard white sweatsocks.

Women wear strange socks. They are cut way below the ankles, have pictures of clouds on them, and have a big fuzzy ball on the back.

TOYS: Little girls love to play with toys. Then, when they reach the age of 11 or 12, they lose interest.

Men never grow out of their obsession with toys. As they get older, their toys simply become more expensive and impractical. Examples of mens toys: miniature TV's, car phones, complicated juicers and blenders, graphic equalizers, small robots that serve cocktails on command, video games, and anything that blinks, beeps and requires at least six "D" batteries to operate.

PLANTS: A woman will ask a man to water her plants while she is on vacation. The man will water the plants. The woman returns five days later, to an apartment full of dead plants. No one knows why this happens.

NICKNAMES: With the exception of female body-builders, who call each other names like "Ultimate Pecs" and "Big Turk," women eschew the use of nicknames. If Gloria, Suzanne, Deborah and Michelle get together for lunch, they will call each other Gloria, Suzanne, Deborah and Michelle.

But if Mike, Dave, and Jack go out for a brewski, they will affectionately refer to each other as Peckerhead, Scumbag, and Louse.

There are five things that women should never, ever ask a guy, according to an article in last April's issue of Sassy magazine.

The five questions are: 1 - "What are you thinking?" 2 - "Do you love me?" 3 - "Do I look fat?" 4 - "Do you think she is prettier than me?" 5 - "What would you do if I died?"

What makes these questions so bad is that every one is guaranteed to explode into a major argument and/or divorce if the man does not answer properly, which is to say dishonestly. For example: 1 - "What are you thinking?"

The proper answer to this question, of course is, "I'm sorry if I've been pensive, dear. I was just reflecting on what a warm, wonderful, caring, thoughtful, intelligent, beautiful woman you are and what a lucky guy I am to have met you." Obviously, this statement bears no resemblance whatsoever to what the guy was really thinking at the time, which was most likely one of five things: a - Baseball b - Football c - How fat you are d - How much prettier she is than you e - How he would spend the insurance money if you died

According to the Sassy article, the best answer to this stupid question came from Al Bundy, of Married With Children, who was asked it by his wife, Peg. "If I wanted you to know," Al said, "I'd be talking instead of thinking."

The other questions also have only one right answer but many wrong answers: 2 - "Do you love me?"

The correct answer to this question is, "Yes." For those guys who feel the need to be more elaborate, you may answer, "Yes, dear." Wrong answers include: a - I suppose so. b - Would it make you feel better if I said yes? c - That depends on what you mean by "love". d - Does it matter? e - Who, me?

3 - "Do I look fat?"

The correct male response to this question is to quickly, confidently, and emphatically state, "No, of course not" and then quickly leave the room. Wrong answers include: a - I wouldn't call you fat, but I wouldn't call you thin either. b - Compared to what? c - A little extra weight looks good on you. d - I've seen fatter. e - Could you repeat the question? I was thinking about your insurance policy

4 - "Do you think she's prettier than me?"

The "she" in the question could be an ex-girlfriend, a passer-by you were staring at so hard that you almost caused a traffic accident or an actress in a movie you just saw. In any case, the correct response is, "No, you are much prettier." Wrong answers include: a - Not prettier, just pretty in a different way. b - I don't know how one goes about rating such things. c - Yes, but I bet you have a better personality. d - Only in the sense that she's younger and thinner. e - Could you repeat the question? I was thinking about your insurance policy.

5 - "What would you do if I died?"

Correct answer: "Dearest love, in the event of your untimely demise, life would cease to have meaning for me and I would perforce hurl myself under the front tires of the first Domino's Pizza truck that came my way." This might be the stupidest question of the lot, as is illustrated by the following stupid exchange: "Dear," said the wife. "What would you do if I died?" "Why, dear, I would be extremely upset," said the husband. "Why do you ask such a question?" "Would you remarry?" persevered the wife. "No, of course not, dear" said the husband. "Don't you like being married?" said the wife. "Of course I do, dear" he said. "Then why wouldn't you remarry?" "Alright," said the husband, "I'd remarry." "You would?" said the wife, looking vaguely hurt. "Yes" said the husband. "Would you sleep with her in our bed?" said the wife after a long pause. "Well yes, I suppose I would." replied the husband. "I see," said the wife indignantly. "And would you let her wear my old clothes? "I suppose, if she wanted to" said the husband. "Really," said the wife icily. "And would you take down the pictures of me and replace them with pictures of her?" "Yes. I think that would be the correct thing to do." "Is that so?" said the wife, leaping to her feet. "And I suppose you'd let her play with my golf clubs, too." "Of course not, dear," said the husband. "She's left-handed..."

[ladywithoutababy]

Some Things I Bought to Prepare for IVF (and also, how my day was today)

I’ve been collecting blogs, social media accounts, and podcasts that talk about IVF in a way that is encouraging and not depressing (there aren’t many - big surprise!!) and one of my favorites is this Build a Baby Instagram account that’s run by a friend of a friend. I like it because it’s a totally contained (and pretty concise) start-to-finish success story that documents every single step of the process, in a way that actually prepares you for what to expect and doesn’t gloss over the messy details (or messy feelings).

I also like it because she includes lots of product recommendations! Here’s some things I bought to prepare for what will surely be the longest and most uncomfortable month of my life (or at least the first in a series of many long and uncomfortable months):

An IVF coloring book and some nice colored pencils that you don’t have to resharpen, because I am starting to understand what it will be like to be sober, hormonal, and alternately in either physical or emotional pain throughout this process and I am allowed to COLOR sometimes if I FEEL LIKE IT.

A book about infertility that was actually written by someone who had infertility, and after a quick flip through the pages seems like exactly the kind of pissed off, no-bullshit take I’m looking for. I think I will read this over the holidays. You know, for a nice stress-free break from the raging emotions of a week spent out of town with family. Yeah. That’ll be good.

A cute little piglet to live in my freezer and reduce the pain during and after the many injections I will be giving myself and/or receiving. Apparently one of the IVF injections a) is made from the urine of post-menopausal women, maybe nuns, accounts differ on that, and b) stings and is horribly painful. The piglet might help slightly!

A new heating pad, because my period is suddenly debilitatingly painful when it shows up these days, and god dammit I’ve earned an upgrade from my generic Walgreens heating pad to Wirecutter’s top choice.

So yeah, I feel prepared. I guess it also might be worth mentioning that as part of my accepting-that-IVF-is-coming tour, I had an appointment with my Ob/Gyn this morning. I haven’t seen her since she first recommended I pursue fertility treatment, almost a year ago. She’s the best doctor ever, and when she walked in she asked me how everything is going given where we left things off the last time I came in. I immediately started crying (which is becoming My Brand, so maybe I should just embrace it) and told her how this year has gone. I also told her some weird things that have been happening recently which made me worried that maybe I have endometriosis, including:

those pesky cramps, which used to be minor for me and now require laying down for 2 hours with a heating pad before I can move

my period used to be 5 days long and now is 4 days long

last week I had exactly 3 days of light bleeding, exactly when implantation bleeding would normally occur if you’re pregnant, but then I got my period, so clearly not pregnant

She's pretty sure I don’t have endometriosis (interestingly, she thinks those first two changes are related to some relatively, uh, disruptive life changes I’ve had this year). But more importantly, she’s pretty sure I was pregnant last week. And when I thought about it, I realized that I don’t think this is the first time this has happened. So now our theory is that I actually have probably gotten “a little pregnant”, maybe more than once, in the last 3 years. She said there’s all kinds of things that can go wrong at the implantation step and cause a super early miscarriage, usually related to genetic problems. I googled this, and holy shit here’s an article that claims that 80% of pregnancies are lost in the first trimester??? Which I guess tracks, because she said that 30-50% of known pregnancies end in miscarriage (which certainly sounds right given all the miscarriages I’ve heard about in the past couple of years), and that’s just pregnancies that get far enough along for people to acknowledge. Anyway, that article also includes a bunch of genetic problems, one of which I assume I have.

It’s reassuring in a way because I feel like this validates what I’ve been saying for the past three years, which is that THE PROBLEM ISN’T THAT I’M JUST BAD AT TIMING SEX (and hey, fuck you to everyone who implied that was the problem despite my extremely valiant efforts). But also, it’s not great to have the (unconfirmed, of course, because none of this is ever confirmed!!!) knowledge that there’s probably something wrong. And if there’s something wrong, yeah, IVF might be able to help, but what if it doesn’t?

And that’s how my day was today.

[cummunication]

What they don’t tell you about aging

My 25th birthday is in less than three weeks. You’d think I’d be excited but on the contrary... I’ve been dreading it. I started to feel bitter about birthdays after I turned 21. I joke that was the “last good birthday” and it all goes downhill from there. Instead of being happy I’m alive and grateful for living another year, I’m worried about what’s going to happen to me (skin, weight, hair, etc). This is due to society conditioning us that the younger the better and that older people (anyone after 30 or so) is doomed to a life of babies, marriage, midlife crisis, divorce, menopause, settling down, urinary incontinence and life alert. I know these anxieties aren’t completely true; since year after year I like who I am more and more. If I could go back in time, I would do things over for sure but I’m not sure I would like to be 16, 18 or even 21 again. “The reality is we are all aging. And we all will experience old age, if we’re lucky enough to live that long.” Don’t get me wrong, there’s many great things about being young; fast metabolism, plump skin, quicker recovery time, more energy etc. But in my opinion and what they forget to mention about aging is there’s also benefits to getting old as well. Experts say some of the best things about growing old include... “A Happier Outlook. More Time for Loved Ones. Opportunity to Pursue Your Dreams. Wisdom. Better Social Skills and More Empathy.” Notice these “pros” tend to be more mental/social & emotional whereas most of the pros of being young are solely physical. This has to do with the aesthetic focus our culture has ingrained in us. Society only deems you worthy if you are young, rich, fertile, hot and fit. They forget you are still the same person and have plenty to offer either way. “Today, with 30-plus years added to the life span, a new view of aging has emerged—one filled with anticipation and accomplishment. Standing in the way of optimal aging, however, is that familiar foe: ageism. Whether the older adult is viewed as a burden to family and society or as a “superhero,” unrealistic perceptions of aging can, and do, have a negative impact on the mental and physical health of this population. The media and marketers use fear-based communications to sell “anti-aging” products and services, driving home the message that aging – a natural process in life – is negative and should be fought every step of the way.” I tend to worry the older I get, the less desirable I am and what do I have to offer when my skin starts to wrinkle, my body starts to sag and my hair starts to turn grey?! Then I think of my friends and family who are older than I and realize at the end of the day I hardly ever love someone based on their appearance. I love my mom, my aunt, my grandma, etc. because of the way they make me feel, the value they add to my life and the lovely memories and experiences we have shared. “Negative stereotypes around aging run rampant in our society. This may cause many of us to fear getting older, yet there are so many tremendous benefits of aging that we tend to ignore.” There’s beauty in getting older and aging beats the other alternative, death. Although as we age our metabolism slows, we’re not as physically strong, we lose collagen etc. there’s numerous blessings if we open our eyes to them. Look at it with an attitude of gratitude; what can you still do? Be grateful you are still around to learn more about yourself and love others. When I was a kid I was super insecure (more than I am now which says a lot). As a teenager I was anxious and didn’t know how to deal with my neuroses. I had social anxiety (which has gotten 95% better). I was also more impulsive, impressionable and vulnerable to allow people into my life because I wanted them to like me. Currently, I rarely give two shits if my makeup and hair is done which is nice because it frees up my time to put energy into things other than if guys will find me pretty. I have a lot more confidence even though in the past I might’ve been thinner and “prettier”. I know people who deserve to be in my life will view me the same either way. I never let people use me for sex or whatever which I’d done in my late teens and early twenties. I’m so over random hookups and as you get older, the more sure you are of what you want and deserve. I’ve also noticed I have less tolerance for peoples bullshit and am pickier with whom I allow into my life. As an adolescent and young adult, I tried hard to be accepted so people thought I was good enough. Now I ask myself “is this person worth my time? What can they add to my life?” Although I had to go through many bad experiences to learn these lessons, I’m not sure I’d take them back because of the wisdom they have brought me. I also believe the older you get, the more humble you become. The less willing you are to “show everything off” i.e. take scandalous, revealing pics for the gram, since you realize you have more to offer than your body and want to find someone who loves your heart and mind, not just what’s between your legs. You learn people should earn your goods and there’s little to no satisfaction in receiving instant gratification and validation I see so many girls seeking through social media. The older I get, the more I respect myself and the more I appreciate who I am. “Other pros of getting older include but are not limited to... Increased happiness and peace is certainly something to look forward to as we get older. Not only will you have more time to spend with loved ones when you retire, but you’ll also have a greater opportunity to pursue different adventures. With age comes a plethora of life experiences. Older people demonstrate superior empathetic and social abilities, according to one study, and greater control over their emotions, according to another.” There’s no limit to the benefits of aging. It’s up to you to find them and take advantage of them!

[icanseeyoufromhere]

On lists and lessons

March 26, 2018.

December 10, 2018.

January 14, 2019.

February 26, 2019.

April 24, 2019.

June 20, 2019.

These are dates that I’d like to say I’ll always remember, but I probably won’t. I mean, I am terrible with names, dates, all that good stuff. 

For example, I often confuse my kids’ birthdays. 

This gaffe is not totally unreasonable. Camilo was born on 9/18/15, and Magdalena was born on 9/14/17. Both are September babies, and all the other numbers in their birthdates sit in the ‘teens, really close to each other. But I’ve had people look at me twice, because I get the dates wrong. You do not want the receptionist at the ER questioning your maternity in the middle of the night when your kid has got croup.

So I’d like to say I will remember the dates of my six surgeries, but I am just not sure. 

Happily, I have this little blog, and now the dates are forever archived somewhere in the ether, for generations to come:

1. March 26, 2018. First (unilateral) mastectomy on left side, to remove cancerous tumor, with removal of lymph nodes and insertion of expander.

2. December 10, 2018. Emergency replacement of expander with silicone implant so that I could have an MRI of my ovaries. Fat grafting to help fill out the implant so it would look more natural.

3. January 14, 2019. Second (unilateral) mastectomy (prophylactic this time) on the right side, with insertion of expander. Excision on the left side to scrape out some remaining tissue that wasn’t fully cancer free and also to remove a patch of skin that was dangerously thin.

4. February 26, 2019. Total hysterectomy, including removal of tubes and ovaries.

5. April 24, 2019. Emergency replacement of expander on the right side because skin had become blistered and eventually ruptured. 

6. June 20, 2019. Replacement of expander with silicone implant on the right side. Fat grafting on both sides to help fill out the implants.

My kids’ grandkids didn’t even know they wanted this list! And now they have it. You’re (all) welcome.

Anyway, I have had six surgeries in just over 15 months. Four were planned. Two were not. My body has been through the ringer. I’ve taken so many drugs of so many kinds--antibiotics, opioids, acetaminophen, stool softeners, even a bit of valium; had lots of JP drains (including one currently); and have so many scars all over my torso, my breasts, and between my legs.

It shouldn’t surprise that, over the course of these medical procedures, I’ve learned quite a bit about myself. I thought I’d list a few of those lessons here, alongside (or just below, really) the list of dates of the surgical interventions that have marked my life (and my family’s life) since I had my first mastectomy last March 26.

A short-term thing (god, I hope it’s short-term):

1. I now go to bed with the reasonable expectation that I will be up for at least half the night (often more), unable to sleep. 

Early menopause has not been completely unkind to me. The hot flashes are hot, but they’re manageable. I’m feeling generally pretty good emotionally, although now when I get mad (not an uncommon thing, heh) I tend to get really mad, really fast.

But I don’t sleep. I mean, sure, I will fall asleep, often as early as 8:30 (because I’m so damn tired). But I will quite reliably be up again, sometimes at 10, sometimes at midnight, but always before 2 am. And then I’m up. Like, really up, often for a really long time. Hours and hours. With phone, without the phone (I know the screen messes with our sleep cycle), it doesn’t matter. And I am so fucking tired. 

During those sleepless hours, I spend a lot of time wondering. I wonder how long one can function with so little sleep. I wonder if lack of sleep can cause cancer. I wonder if this world will be around long enough for my kids to have grandkids. I wonder about concentration camps and my kids drowning in pools and if I passed along my genetic mutation to either (or both) of them. You get the gist. These are not pleasant musings. I try to shift course, meditate, play Wordscapes on my phone. I run through my old high school balance beam routine, over and over in my head. I get up, kiss my kids, drink water...I NEED TO SLEEP. So, so desperately. 

I’ve learned, in short, that early menopause for me means coping with temporary insomnia.

Other, longer-term lessons:

2. Each surgery has required at least a couple days of repose. I have learned, however, that I. Cannot. Just. Sit. Still. Four hours after my total hysterectomy I was picking up toys and sweeping the floor. You know, just some light housework after having a few reproductive organs removed. It’s rather sick. I’m not proud of this. My inability to lie in bed probably helped produce some of the physical setbacks and at least one of the emergency surgeries (#5. April 24, 2019). It has not, however, produced ANY FUCKING SLEEP. So go figure. 

3. I am a lazy medicator. I mean, I took my antibiotics every six hours for seven days, as per doctor’s orders. But I’m really bad with pain management. To wit: I still haven’t taken the 500 grams of acetaminophen that I was supposed to take two hours ago, even though I feel quite a bit of pain under my right armpit, where the scar is healing and the JP drain is protruding from my skin. It’s the same when I have a headache, or when I used to have menstrual cramping. I just ride out the discomfort, as if science hadn’t created tiny, magical pills to take away the pain. I don’t know why I am like this. I literally just typed about my need for acetaminophen. I have the acetaminophen right next to me, as well as a glass of water. And I still haven’t taken it! What is wrong with me? 

(I just took the acetaminophen.)

4. When I woke up this morning (after falling asleep some time around 4 am), my feet were where my head should be. As in, I decided to flip around and put my pillow at the foot of the bed. As a long-time poor sleeper, I, at some point along the way, realized that this shift in perspective could at times help me fall asleep.

Matias mocked me earlier today about this, saying something to the effect of: “What do you think that does for you? It’s ridiculous.” 

(Oh, the hormonal-induced RAGE.)

Setting aside my offense for a moment, let me put on my social scientist hat. There could be science at play here. Flipping the person is not unlike flipping the mattress, right? And there is loads and loads of research (read: un-verified websites like this one) on the benefits of a flipped mattress! So, yeah, when I cannot sleep, I have learned that turning around at night can help. Insomniacs, take note.

5. Finally, and perhaps rather cheesily, my body is fragile and also fierce. 

When I had the emergency expander replacement (again, surgery #5, April 24, 2019), my plastic surgeon used both stitches and staples to close up the space where the bad skin used to be. It was the most Edward Scissorhands-y of all of my surgeries. The suture crossed my breast, from about 2:00 to 8:00, just missing the nipple. It was creepy. I couldn’t look at it. I didn’t even document it with a photo, so I can’t share the evidence with you here. (Sorry...or, perhaps, you’re welcome?) 

In the matter of a 1.5 hour surgery, my body had been opened and then sealed shut, with metal and twine and glue. For weeks after, I looked like a sewed up ragdoll from the stories (and nightmares) of my childhood. 

My skin, so delicate and yet so robust. Today, you can barely see the scar. 

When I look at my JP drain, my scars, my new breasts, my newly curly hair (it’s called “chemo curl”), I think that we, as humans, are simultaneously strong and weak. So prone to damage, and also so highly resilient. Vulnerable to illness and yet up to the challenge of fighting it. 

I don’t seek to resolve this paradox. I marvel at it sometimes. I cry about it too. I’ve lived with it for months and think it probably best to simply describe rather than explain its existence. 

I will say this. The duality of our physical reality (its fragility and its ferocity) does give me hope, for my kids and for us as a society. (When I get real dramatic I extrapolate all the way out to humankind as a whole.) 

We impart pain, we receive it, we recover. We hurt and we heal. Hopefully, we learn at least something from the process. 

It’s been seven days since my last surgery, and I’m still spending a lot of time in bed, despite a (growing) list of work to do, an impending move to another country, and a house that is just begging to be cleaned. It took six surgeries, but I now know that rest is important--indeed, necessary--for our fragile bodies to recover their strength. 

Add that to my list of lessons learned.

[hopevalley]

I love reading your well thought out answers to queries :-) do you think it’s possible for the show to leave Rosie and Lee just as they are? She’s not keen on babies but is so lovely with children in other ways, their journey to a family may be totally different from the expected. I don’t want a forced, sappy WCTH wrapped in a bow story for them. Also could Carson and Faith be any more meh??? I would love for a Carson and Elizabeth story later down the line but I don’t think it will happen :-(

Thank you! And also thank you for the great questions.

I like Rosemary and Lee the way they are, too. I don’t want a baby storyline for them; it’d be nice to see a couple not have children, and our options for that are limited in Hope Valley almost by age. For example, if Bill entered into a marriage, it’s a little doubtful he’d be having kids—or even particularly wanting them. Not that men his age wouldn’t maybe still want a family, but his character is old enough that if he said something like, “We’re not really looking to start a family,” most people would accept that as reasonable. He had a son before, but lost him, and maybe doesn’t feel the need to try again. I think Abigail falls into that category, too, even the had-a-son-before aspect of it. It’s hard to tell if she’s intended to be at post-menopausal age or not, but either way, having a baby over 40 in this time period? Not the best idea. Plus, Abigail adopted children; she doesn’t need more.

But other than these two characters, and their potential partners, I think the other characters/couples are intended to feel vaguely “in their late 20s or 30s”—and therefore still ripe for babymaking potential.

So, let’s talk about Rosemary and Lee. 

The actors in this show are ALWAYS much older-looking than their intended character (and no, the makeup they’re wearing usually doesn’t help alleviate this when they’re always doing close-up shots). Rosemary grew up with Jack, but Jack had to have been old enough to actually have a career, and this would be about five years after the first season, so…she has to be at least mid 30s. Lee’s more varied I think? He could easily be, say, anywhere from 38 to 45… (I did a big chart on ages once, to try and get a handle on everybody’s ages. Let me tell you: easier said than done.)

Anyway, so let’s pretend Rosemary is currently 35 and Lee is 45: that’s still in a believable range to be having a baby.

My thing is this: they just don’t need it. Rosemary isn’t the kind of person who wants to be completely selfless, which is kind of how you have to be when you have a helpless little human depending on you for literally everything. She’s also not especially intuitive when it comes to figuring out what other people are feeling/thinking/et cetera. Personally? I think she’d be miserable as a mother, and she’d really hate those early years the most. Depressed Rosemary? No thank you.

But I do think Rosemary does well with kids who are a bit older, say, 8+. And she’d probably do great with even teenagers: because they’re better at communicating how they feel and what they’re thinking, and they don’t need the kind of personal attention a baby does.

But like, we already have Abigail in town who adopted children, so it feels like a repeated storyline that…doesn’t need to happen again. It’d just be rehashing the same kinds of issues we’ve already covered. And I know I already said this, but… Rosemary and Lee don’t need children. I’m sure by now they’ve already discussed their desires and wants in the relationship. It’s kind of late to throw that roadblock in without it feeling cumbersome to the storytelling by default. They’ve surely discussed this thoroughly by now!

Being listen, I’ll be honest: I’m sick of the average pregnancy narrative anyway. It’s used to twist women who don’t want kids into pseudo-villains. I’ve had enough of that! Rosemary on screen said she didn’t want kids, and I’d like this series to, you know, respect that about her character, not make her pregnant and force her to deal with the consequences (where she magically discovers a love of babies once she herself is pregnant or she’s around an infant regularly, because that’s how these kinds of narratives ALWAYS END—where the woman has her mind changed for her, usually for the convenience of what everyone else wants).

I’m not going to go into how damaging that narrative is, especially when it’s aimed at people who don’t want kids or can’t have them for any reason, but it IS damaging (not just to the potential parents, but to the children they end up having) and it’s a lie. You won’t magically fall in love with sticky jam hands and baby smells just because you’re around a baby or you get yourself knocked up. 

If you don’t want kids, or don’t even particularly like kids: don’t have kids. There’s no shame in that. There’s no shame in living for yourself. Don’t drop some innocent person into the world on purpose just because you’re trying to fill in some societal obligation—or check some kind of box on the list a relative gave you.

I feel like Rosemary’s road into family doesn’t have to be her performing parenthood. She does very well as a kind, quirky aunt-like figure. She helped Cody get Frank and Abigail back together; she mentored Emily, she had those girls over at her house for a sleepover and they adored her… That’s the role I think Rosemary ought to keep playing. No shame attached. Let other people have babies and enjoy it; let Rosemary and Lee not have babies and still enjoy their life together!

(And it’s like, look: I know that we can’t forget what Lee wants here, too, but marriage does come with compromises, and sometimes they’re not small ones! He works a lot; when is he going to help Rosemary with the baby? When is he going to Be a Father? An hour each night? Please. Any baby they have will be 99% Rosie’s responsibility, and I think when confronted with this reality, Lee is fully capable of taking the more logical route of deciding maybe children just aren’t that important to him because he has everything else in his life he’s ever wanted. Family can be just a husband and wife!)

Here’s to hoping the writers don’t think they have to check off the baby box on Rosemary and Lee’s relationship. It doesn’t need it; and that they don’t seem to be heading in that direction is part of what helps them stand out from the others—what helps them feel compelling as characters. They get to fuss over and spoil Elizabeth’s son, get to babysit him, get to watch him grow up…but they won’t have to actually parent him. I think it’s a perfect arrangement!

As far as Carson and Faith go… I don’t really get their popularity in this fandom. I’d probably like them a lot if Faith were the doctor and Carson the nurse? It would at least feel like a slight trope subversion… 

I think it’s fandom’s obsession with shipping people who work together or something… I personally dated one (1) person I worked closely with, and it was terribly awkward and perfectly awful when it came time to end things—and it’s not like they didn’t end amicably! It isn’t a trope I particularly like anymore, now that I know all the pitfalls that come with it. 

Fandom is still in the fantasizing stage of it, I guess. And of course, it’s Hallmark, so if they’re end-game it’s not like they won’t work through all of those issues, right?

Anyway, I find their relationship to be kind of dull and uninspired. I just can’t get into it. Maybe s6 will change my mind, but I doubt it. I guess what I wanted was another male/female friendship that felt like it meant something, especially between two people in the same field who work very closely all the time. Bill and Abigail are a great friendship pair, too, don’t get me wrong…but they did try the romantic entanglement thing at first—and it’d be super nice to have all the good parts of a friendship like they share MINUS the attempt at romance.

But that’s just me.

I really would prefer Elizabeth and Carson, but unfortunately I’m with ya, Anon. I don’t think it’s likely to happen. Maybe we’ll at least get a close friendship there? I mean, if nothing else, I’ll take it.

[mrsmercyjevans]

Six and Counting.

INVOLVED: Mercedes Evans and Samuel Evans. LOCATION: Dr. Barrett Office; Miami, Florida. TIME FRAME: Flashback. NOTES: Mercedes thinks she started menopause early.

Mercedes sat in the office pondering the next phases of her life as she did. After much self-examining for the past 3 weeks, and her endless debates with Samuel she gave in and finally did the thing she rarely liked to do. She made an appointment to see her doctor after showing signs of early onset Menopause. She was dreading this visit this whole entire week she found herself trying to make excuse after excuse not to come, she used the kids, the organization, Samuel’s new profound line of work, at some point of time she even tried to use her parents as an excuse not to come. She was a mess, and a complete wreck in others eyes she was sure. Sighing heavily into the room with Samuel she sat there waiting for her doctor to return with the horrible news that her youth had depleted and she had now crossed over to a part of her life that deemed her old, washed up, and useless.

Samuel tapped his foot restlessly against the carpeted floor of the OBGYN’S office. For all intents and purposes, he was actually fine with this new turn of events. They had 6 children already and long past the desire to have anymore. Point of fact, he knew for certain they couldn’t. After Seth was born they decided adoption would be the route they used to increase their family. So, for two years Sam diligently strapped up when they played. However, at year 4 he started missing the application of condoms here and there. You didn’t get married to use rubbers after all. This lackadaisical approach, eventually graduated into no condoms more often than not. He never mentioned this to Mercedes. She was content with not having any more children, but if she knew for certain they couldn’t… well he was sure there would have been a anxiety at the least. Now, with one glance at Mercedes he knew he was right. She was coming apart, he knew, even if it was masked behind that perfectly pulled together face. That was the thing about being married, most of the time happily. You knew your partner like the back of your hand. And right now, his knuckles itched. “Babe?” He said reaching over to take her hand. “You know what this means right?” he asked giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Mercedes looked over to Samuel “hm?” she asked having been in her own head the entire time. She laced their fingers together and replied without hesitation “the end of my youth?” she asked him. “The beginning of me being less than a woman… not as if I were ever completely one to begin with” she said looking off from him. “I am okay with the possibility of never having children again, after Seth I felt that maybe three blessings were exactly that, three blessings and I didn’t need to push the envelope” she ranted. “But this is a bit excessive now” she sighed again. “I already feel old, I don’t need my body to start turning on me now” she said angrily. “I have sisters older than me, that haven’t even gone through this yet themselves” she said shaking her head as she shifted her heel covered feet.

Samuel sighed sadly. “Babe, not a word of that is true. When I stopped playing football, I felt like less of a man. But you reminded me this was just a transition. I was still every bit Samuel-motherfucking-Evans. The same applies here” he said a pleading tone in his voice. He swallowed his sexual japes. They wouldn't serve, not right now. He turned to her, “No babe, stop and breathe” he said hands going to either side of her face. “This is a part of life, don't make it more the that. Okay?”

 Mercedes looked to Samuel as he spoke, she felt differently it wasn’t the same. Women were supposed to carry children and then along the line, preferably when they were over the hill they lost that opportunity. Football was a gift of his, but it didn’t have to be his calling. He was good at other things as well. She always thought she’d be a mother, and she were, but she didn’t like her body betraying the possibility of that furthering. As he held her face she averted her eyes, “okay” she agreed though it was hard to do what he was asking.

 Entering the room after a double knock Dr. Barrett moved towards the desk file in hand. “Hey, I’m back with those results” she said cheerfully, though she were normally upbeat anyway. “So… after looking everything over. You definitely are not experiencing early onset menopause like you think” she told Mercedes looking to her directly. “That’s the funny thing, doctors make for the worst patience because they are always self-diagnosing” she said biting her lip a bit. “We did find something however….” she trailed off.

 Samuel held Mercedes gaze, watching as she turned his advice over in her mind. He had a fifty-fifty shot it would take root. And her murmured okay did little to convince him she had. Nevertheless, he leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Breaking the kiss, “it will be fine” he said placing his forehead against hers. Drawing back, in his chair, “Doctor” he greeted as she entered the room oddly cheerful. He smiled at Mercedes, grabbing her hand again at the doctor’s pronouncement. “Thank the Lord” he said out loud glad to be putting off the menopause emotions for a while longer. “What did you find? It's not cancer or anything?” He asked alarmed.

 Mercedes nodded her head at her husband, she just needed to calm down she didn’t know why she were so emotional anyway. She kissed him back soundly, finding comfort in it. As the woman walked into the room Mercedes gave her all of her attention tucking hair behind her ear. “Thank God” she said in unison with Samuel, the woman was right Mercedes was always diagnosing someone with something. That she couldn’t help one bit however. At the doctors next words, she paused, hearing her husband’s plea she looked to the woman “oh my God it can’t be that” she rushed out frantically. “You know what if it’s that I don’t want to know” she said looking to her expectantly.

 Barrett looked at the two and she shook her head. “No, it is not cancer trust me, don’t even think like that” she warned them both. “Mercedes is extremely healthy, blood pressure a little high yes, but that is to be expected” she said before she told them both. “Because Mercedes is pregnant” she smiled at them. “No ailment, no disease, nothing crazy” she listed. “Just a baby…” she said to them both.

 “Thank God!” Samuel said slumping bodily in the chair. His relief, however, dissipated as the doctor mouthed words he never thought to here again in his life. He clenched frozen in place. Unblinking he glared at the doctor, his mind wholly rejecting every part of what the woman said. There had to be some mistake. His mouth gaped to the point spittle began collecting in the corner of his jaw, threatening to run out over his fleshy lips. He snapped his mouth closed then swallowed repeatedly bringing his tongue back to life. “She’s what!” He sputtered harshly once he found his voice.

 When the woman threw out Samuel’s cancer theory Mercedes sighed again resting her hand against her heart. They had 6 kids and she thought she was old, however she was very young and simply had no time to fight for her life now. It was too much going on already. At least that’s what she thought to herself before the actual culprit that was causing her so much concern was announced. Having had her eyes closed Mercedes popped them open and dropped her hand in her lap, her head slowly turned just as her husband decided to speak up again. “That’s impossible” Mercedes said glaring at him. “Because I know for a fact” she said through clenched teeth. She only asked that he did one thing for her in return for all she had to do every day, and that were to wear condoms faithfully. After Seth she just wasn’t comfortable with dealing with some of the effects of birth control and she didn’t keep up with them anyway. She assumed she should have checked, but he was her husband what else were he doing but scratching his ass and watching sports in any other part of the day. “He’s used protection regularly” she said still glaring at Samuel boring holes in his face before she finally looked back to her doctor, “so run those test again, or check the name on the file. Because that’s wrong.”

 Samuel strained fighting with all his might not to acknowledge his wife’s glare. “Mhm, that's right!” He agreed eagerly, “There must be some mistake!” He parroted. 10 years… 10 whole motherfucking years, they hadn't had some much as a pregnancy scare. There was no way in hell after all this time she could be pregnant. He bit down on his lips stifling his nerves, shaking his head eagerly as Mercedes demanded a retest.

 Dr. Barrett looked at the two, it was quite interesting to see them live and in action. It confirmed what she already knew about them both, that the television did not cause them to act differently, this is just who they were. She giggled slightly and shook her head “the test have been checked and double checked” she said with a wink. “It’s not uncommon for women your age to conceive naturally” she commented. “And perhaps, Mr. Evans just made a minor mistake” she measured on her fingers. “I know that you’ve had difficulties in the past… but… we still can’t really confirm definitely if the fertility treatments really paid off when you conceived Samuel Jr. or if your body just… corrected itself naturally and did what it was already made to do” she said trying to smooth things over. “Babies are nothing shy of a miracle you know” she tagged on as she gathered all the pamphlets, informational printouts, and more from the folder that she wanted to give them.

 7 kids… another miracle. Checked and double checked… confirmed.  Another kid. Samuel sunk into the chair his long legs gapped open, a lofted foot laying on its side. “But it’s been ten years.” He murmured, mouth going slack once more. He's often wanted a football team sized family. But that was before SJ, Sean, with a minor dose of Seth were a terrorizing reality. And his girls… 3 gorgeous girls, he'd be forced to kill over before he died. “This is really happening?”

 Mercedes ran her hands through her hair trying to wrap her brain around everything the woman was saying. Mercedes leg being to bounce without her really trying to do so. She shook her head slowly, “I can’t believe this” she said sighing to herself. “I thought I was going through menopause and all the while I am pregnant. I might’ve preferred the damn menopause” she cursed accidentally as she begin to become angry at the thought again.

 Still amused Barrett said “well, you guys can take these home with you and rest on it? And then we can get you guys back in for a sonogram and maybe we discuss options or plans of action?” She said sympathetically to them both.

 “No, no” Mercedes said quickly to the woman. “Please let's just get this over with today. I mean… I think I really need to know or see this” she told the woman. “Because I just can’t wrap my brain around this honestly.”

 Samuel ran his fingers through his hair as he sat up in chair. He bent at the waist as if his stomach hurt. He did look to Mercedes then, feeling sick with remorse. He reached over and touched her leg. Trying to ground himself in this moment.

 Barrett looked to Mercedes and nodded “you sure you guys don’t need just a small moment?” She asked reassuringly. After a moment, she said “okay. Well I’ll get things prepared for you guys and have a nurse come get you, so we can get a look at the fetus” she said. “And then we will come back in my office and have a little discussion” she told them both as she moved to stand up with Mercedes file collecting everything. Dr. Barrett left the room quietly closing the door behind herself.

 Samuel’s hand continued to gently move up and down Mercedes leg. All he could do was offer the doctor a pitiful nod as she collected her things and left the room. The years had been kind to Samuel he stayed in the gym. So, he maintained the stiff muscle tone his wife loved so much, with only a hit of extra garth around his midsection. Sadly, right now, his size did little to cull his fear. The anger actually radiated off his wife, in hot waves. The click of the door closing behind the doctor might as well have been the open bell for Mike Tyson… “Babe, I...?”

 Mercedes leg stop shaking as soon as the woman left the room. “I’m not mad” she tossed out staring at the wall behind the doctor's desk. She was lying through her teeth, but she said it anyway, brushing his hand off of her leg in the process. “I don’t want to be touched on” she explained. “How could you Sam?” She asked him. “It was the only thing I asked you to do, the only thing” she exclaimed looking over at him. “When did you stop and why didn’t you tell me? And why did you stop?” She said confused.

 Samuel blew out a long hard breath. “Yeah you are... “ He said sucking his teeth. Her pushing his hand from her thigh only confirmed her rage. “How could I what babe? Have sex with my wife? Damn, I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’d forget.” He slapped his hand against his forehead.  “Shit 10 years?  I figured by now I was shooting blanks. I can’t believe this shit... I just can’t believe this shit” he rambled.

 Mercedes continued to look at Samuel as he explained himself to her, and not in a very clear and understandable way. But after thinking about the way he worded his statement she turned her head “oh” she dragged out as she nodded her head slowly. “Makes sense” she lied “men’s logic” she added as she rolled her eyes at him. “Because you think I couldn’t get pregnant anyway… you figured why even bother after a point of time?” she asked not needing him to confirm it, actually she didn’t want him to. “Don’t answer that” she said moving to stand up from her chair, she grabbed her Chanel bag moving for the door, she thought about what she was doing, and she sighed rolling her eyes at herself. Moving to sit back down she licked her lips “I’m not mad” she repeated again, softer this time and actually telling the full truth. “I should have just taken the birth control, I should have never given you all the responsibility” she said damming herself for even believing he could do a simple thing, he didn’t find it necessary, and she never required him to very often. She just wished he honored her damn wishes. She was on the verge of crying she was so irritated, but she kept it together despite.

 Samuel clenched his jaw and stared ahead, and she laid out his private thoughts to him. She was right, but she made it sound disgusting and completely dishonorable. He tapped on large foot against the carpet irritated as she stood to leave the room. But remained silent even then. What could he say, “Look I’m sorry I should have been more careful” he said truthfully after she returned to her seat. Even though the words didn’t confirm or deny the truth of her statement about him. He didn’t really need it to. He knew her mind was made up anyway. “We don’t have to keep this baby.” He finally said, quietly. “We already have six kids and who knows what a pregnancy now would be like.”    

 Mercedes looked up at the ceiling, she opened her mouth to reply to him a few times, but her lips kept closing repeatedly. As the water in her eyes begin to distort her vision she figured her efforts to suppress her crying was void and she just let the tears fall despite her trying so hard not to. “That would be so cruel and heartless” she sniffled out, lashes on the verge of peeling right off as crocodile tear after the next rolled down her cheek. She snatched a tissue up from the woman’s desk as she tried to pat her face dry “I can’t believe you’d suggest that” she said barely audible behind all her tears, sniffles, and small sobs. “Why am I crying like this” she said frustrated, to herself as she rummaged through her bag for her compact mirror.

 Samuel sighed defeated. Maybe it would be cruel, but his mind was too cluttered with worry and shock to think clearly. “It’s an option, that’s all I’m saying” he stated voice flat and lifeless. The thrum of his heart in his ears made him feel queasy so he sat forward again, head in the palm of his hands. “It's done we are pregnant, apparently. But I didn’t try to do this to hurt or trick you.  Shit it’s been ten years” he stressed for the second time. “I know the idea might sicken you, but we should at least consider it.”

 Mercedes pat her face dry, she really didn’t know why she were crying she could assume hormones were the cause. “Sam, I know my options” she replied simply, she didn’t need him to tell her that. “Let’s get to step B first” she said balling up the tissue in her hand “before you move to step c, d, e, f, and g” she listed. “Considering aborting a baby why? You haven’t even given me a reason to do something so heinous, you are just throwing that out there because you don’t know what else to say or do Sam” she said looking over at him. “That’s not comforting to me” she said gesturing to herself.

 Samuel stood, then moved behind their chairs pacing.  “If you want to press me on the issues, I’d say our ages to start with. Our youngest child is seven. Do we really want to start over again?” he listed out the option in a flood of words. He stopped moving to look down at his wife. “You’re right…” he moaned flopping down back into his seat. “Shit. I don’t know babe. I mean we have the money but is this really in the plans?”

 “It wasn’t in the plan” she said back to him as he asked her various questions. Mercedes shook her head at Samuel “Sam just hush” she told him. “What’s done is done...” she said a knock on the door cutting her off and as a nurse walked in.

 “All ready?” The younger woman asked holding the door open for them, she was fully prepared to show them to the examination room. “You can both follow me this way…”

 “You know what I mean…” Samuel said in a matter of fact tone. Her dismissal caused his teeth to clinch. He knew full well the deed was done that was not the point. He opened his mouth to protest but the knock at the door caught his attention. “Sure.” He said standing to his feet, he moved to hold the door open for his wife.

 Mercedes looked to the nurse and she grabbed her purse again. She didn’t know what her husband meant, and at the moment that were the least of her worries. She just needed to get her head back on her shoulders and he were not helping in that department. She walked through the door and followed the woman to the examination room designated for her and Sam. Once there she moved into it and climbed up on the counter.

 “Okay” the nurse said as they entered the room. She waited for both of them to settle before she said “I am just going to check your vitals Mrs. Evans, check your temperature, and Dr. Barrett will be right in for your ultrasound” she said grabbing what she needed. She stuck the thermometer under Mercedes tongue and then applied the blood pressure cuff on Mercedes arm.

 Samuel followed the woman, hand dug deep into his pockets, face a stone mask. He leaned against the wall foot pounding against the floor, when they entered the examination room instead of sitting. It occurred to him, standing there, this was a first for him. Mercedes had always learned about her pregnancies and then told him after the fact. He was in on the ground floor this time, it was a shame he wasn't happier about this turn of events.

 Mercedes sat patiently nodding to the girl, she sat her bag aside and let her do her job. All of this came natural as if it were a job or hobby, she smirked, she guessed having children did sort of become a job in her life. She dropped the smirk so no one in the room noticed. Once the girl removed the thermometer and cuff, she scribbled something down. “All good?” Mercedes asked the girl.

 “Yeah” the girl said as she moved to clean back up. “All good” she told her softly. “Okay, she’ll be right in” she told Mercedes as she moved to hand her a gown and the cheap imitation of a blanket they offered during these.

 Mercedes nodded “thanks” she told the girl politely and she hopped down off the table. Mercedes watched the girl go and she went to change her clothing returning in the gown and she tossed her natural hair over her shoulders. Climbing back on the table she sat down once more “stop that” she said looking over at Samuel. “Stop pouting” she said looking at him “no sense in being mad over this” she shrugged. “Or at each other for that matter” she added. “No point in arguing either, I don’t want to argue with you over something like our unborn child… we aren’t those people anymore” she said looking down at her hands.

 Samuel hard greens eyes softened. He pushed off the wall unfurling like some great cat, as he stepped forward. “Men don't pout. We brood. There is a difference” he growled stubbornly holding his scowl in place. She was right. She often was he had to conceded, towering over her seated on the examination table.  

 Mercedes looked to him again “oh” she dragged out “that’s what it’s called…” she said. “Well with whatever it’s called I wish you’d stop” she told with a smirk. “Or are you going to stay mad with me all day?” She asked.

 Samuel’s green eyes devoured her hazel ones. “I’m not mad at you. I just want to keep you safe. I love you far too much to lose you because I was reckless.” He admitted, soberly. He placed both hands on the side of her neck cupping her face lightly. He kissed her permanently puckered lips tenderly.

 As Samuel stared at Mercedes she stared back, “keep me safe from what?” She asked him confused. “Lose me over a baby?” she asked amused falling into his kiss lovingly.

 Samuel smirked against her lips, “It’s nothing.” He said lowering his hands to her gown covered thighs giving them a squeeze. “See this how we got into this mess in the first place” he chuckled, as his lips lingered over hers.

 “Because you don’t keep your hands to yourself Mr. Evans” she reminded with a smile. Mercedes grabbed Samuel’s hands and clutched onto them for dear life. As a knock was heard at the door she looked towards it “come in” she breathed out watching Dr. Barrett enter the room.

 Dr. Barrett entered the room with Mercedes file. “Okay” she said to them both “let’s get started” she added kindly. “Your vitals checked out and I am happy about that” she told Mercedes as she moved to wash her hands. After doing so she put on a pair of gloves, moving over to Mercedes she said “place your feet in the stirrups” before she moved to set up.

 Samuel laughed as Mercedes held his hands in place, “Sure can’t” he agreed. As she beckoned the doctor to enter he planted one finial kiss on her neck. And moved off to side as Mercedes positioned herself on the table.  

 Mercedes looked to her doctor and nodded her head. Leaning back against the table she then moved to place her feet in the stirrups as she were asked. She laid the blanket across her lower half. Samuel tried to move away from her, but she only clutched his hand tighter.

 Barrett sat before Mercedes finally prepared, she used the transducer to get a clear image of the fetus Mercedes was carrying. After positioning the transducer in the cervix, she looked to her screen herself. “Okay” she said as the imaging cleared on the screen and she said “there’s baby A and baby B” she said slowly knowing this would be another shocker for them.

 Samuel snapped back to his wife’s side, not that she gave him any choice. A smile taking over his face. He bent and rested his lips against her forehead as the doctor worked away. “I kinda love you.” He said brushing her hair way from her oval face. He looked over to the doctor confused, “Baby… What?” he asked jaw going slack.

 Mercedes held her breath as Samuel leaned down to kiss her and she smirked slightly at him. “Kinda?” She asked him amused before she turned to the screen and looked for herself. “Twins?” She asked shocked. She clutched Samuel’s hand even tighter if that were possible at all. “Oh” she breathed unsure of what else to say in the moment as tears begin to fall on their own.

 Barrett looked to Mercedes nodding “yes twins” she confirmed. “Congrats” she offered them “and everything checks out, so far so good. Progressing like normal” she told them both.

 Samuel reached back, his free hand groping for something, anything to hold onto. “Twins. Twins…. Twins.” He mumbled, stressing the words harder each time he repeated the words. He abandoned his quest to find something behind him and gripped the side of the examination table as his knees buckled.  First, he was in a three-point stance sucking in air. When that didn’t calm him, he sank to one knee. Before long he was seated beside the table, his only anchor to the world the vice like grip Mercedes had on his hand. “Twins.”

 Mercedes turned her head to look to Samuel and she rolled her eyes. “God” she said wiping her tears away “really?” She asked sarcastically to him. Mercedes looked back to the screen again “wow” she said a final time.

 Barrett looked to Samuel before she removed the transducer all together. “Sam… do I need to get a nurse for you?” She asked the man as she moved to clean up idly.

 “No” Mercedes replied leaning up into a sitting position. “He’s fine” Mercedes told their doctor as she licked her lips sniffling. “Sam get up” she told him looking down at him.

 Eight children had been a grand idea, at 32. But reality of starting again with 2 infants at 43 was definitely a cat of a different color. Samuel looked up at his wife, “just give me a second” he said voice hollow. “Eight kids. Two in diapers…” Was all he said still stunned.  

 Mercedes looked to Samuel again, he looked almost pitiful down there however the urge to laugh at him was terribly strong. Being pregnant in general was a shocker to her, being told she was having twins was the icing on the cake. However, she remembered a time he wanted this… so to see him in distress was amusing. “In shock?” She asked him with a shake of her head.

 His beautiful wife was mocking him. He could read the humor in her hazel eyes. “It’s not funny” Samuel spat. His lip quivered at the hilarity of their predicament. “I know. I wanted a lot of children.” He said still seated on the floor laughing so hard tears were rolling down his face.

 “Yes, you did. Be careful what you wish for. Now you have it” Mercedes replied as she shifted against the table with a chuckle of her own and a head shake.

 Barrett chuckled at the two despite herself “you can change back into your clothes and we can meet back up in my office?” She asked tossing her gloves in the trash. She washed her hands again and grabbed Mercedes file before she left.

 Samuel pulled himself from the ground, chuckles taking him in spurts now.  “Truer words have never been spoken.” He penned his wife against the table. Looking down at her.  “What us gonna do with two more kids, Anna May?” He asked doing a lazy Laurence Fishburne impression with a heavy sigh.

 “Boy quit” Mercedes told him with a head shake. “I need to change” she told him truthfully. “We have to go talk to her about all of this…” she trailed off.

 Samuel breathed in her almost calm and brushed his over ripe lips against her forehead again. “Okay, but I want you to know you ain't getting no more of this.” He chuckled light as he stepped away pulling her up from the table.

 “Trust me I don’t want any more of it” Mercedes retorted. She got up off the table thanks to him and grabbed her clothing moving to change once more. Once she did she resurfaced and said “today has been an emotional roller coaster I just want to eat and take a nap” as she grabbed her purse.

 Samuel scoffed, “sure....” He sighed heavily as she disappeared to dress. He shook his head, even after the laughter he was overwhelmed and exhausted. “TWINS!” He said aloud shock and disbelief still plain in his tone. He looked to Mercedes and nodded, feeling run down too. “Yes ma'am.” He said taking his wife’s hand and moving towards the door opening it for her.

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

Nesting Part 2

A/N: This is the third and final one shot I promised to write as part of my 2000 followers celebration so long ago that I honestly don’t remember. It’s been months, I think. So many months. Anyway, Be sure to read PART 1 HERE before you go reading this. I mean, you don’t have to, but it will help. Thanks to @manawhaat for telling me this doesn’t suck. If I’m ever bored, I have an idea for a smutty third part, but don’t hold your breath. It would be years. You’d definitely die.

Summary: Dean takes the Reader into his bedroom and the hormones cause tears and confessions.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst, older reader, Dean not caring about the Reader not using a 20% off BB&B coupon and being super sweet in general.

Word count: 1828 words

By the time Dean carried you to his room, doubts had already begun zipping through your mind. Sure, he wanted you when you had your clothes on and you rocked his world with angry sex. What’s to say he wouldn’t feel differently after he saw how your boobs totally didn’t do the bra thing without the bra, anymore? Things jiggled, now, and not in good ways.

Dean sat on his bed and laid you out with your head on his new pillows, hovering over you while his lips gently met yours. Thoughts fled your mind while Dean simply kissed you over and over again. It wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t rough, it wasn’t just a prelude to something else; it was just gentle, undemanding, exploratory kissing. Another adjective sprung to mind, but you pushed it away before more than the first letter could be explicitly thought. The warmth that spread through your body from Dean’s, though… combined with the sweet way his tongue slid against yours with no set goal in mind other than to just feel… you felt tears begin to well up in your eyes as you clung to Dean, both hands spread across his back.

Dean stopped kissing you when he tasted the salt on your skin.

“Y/N?” He backed away, taking in the tears on your cheeks while he brushed a lock of hair from your face. “Did I do something wrong? Did you not want this?” His hands left your body fast as lightning as he put them up in surrender.

You shook your head and sniffled, grasping at his shirt so he wouldn’t back even further away, trying to swallow down all the emotions that were choking you. “It’s not that, Dean! I did want this. I—I do want this! This isn’t bad crying, it’s just… I’ve just got so much going on inside of me right now that I can’t seem to… I don’t know why I’m crying, Dean, but it’s not your fault, I swear!” You sat up and launched yourself back into his arms, burying your face in his shoulder.

Dean wrapped his arms around you, and as he gently rubbed your back, a thousand knots in your body slowly loosened, leaving you nearly boneless. Your tears dried up and all you could focus on was the feeling of being in the safest place on earth and the rhythm of your breaths as you took in the scent of Dean.

“Do you want to talk about what’s got you acting like a crazy person?” Dean asked, tempering his question with a tender kiss to your head.

You pulled in a deep breath of just Dean, letting it give you strength. “I, uh,” you stammered, not sure exactly where to start. Sitting back, you glanced at Dean’s face, which was screwed up in worry. “It’s nothing bad, really. It’s just, I’m not pregnant,” you rushed to reassure him, “but I haven’t had, you know, shark week in almost six months, so I went to the doctor.” Dean nodded, obviously trying not to jump to conclusions. “They took more blood than a starving vampire for tests, gave me a complete exam, and the doctor put me on a medicine to try and kickstart something. She doesn’t think it’s anything serious, just probably early menopause or something, but the medicine is making me twelve kinds of crazy, right now.” You tried to laugh but it got a bit choked off from the remains of the tears still lodged in your throat. “Today is Day 3 of ten days with these pills, and I’m climbing the walls, here!”

Dean looked so confused, his eyes wide and uncomprehending.

“One minute, I want to bake a pie and organize closets and I’m obsessed with thread counts, and the next I want to rip you and Sam apart for leaving the toilet seat up and the coffee on the counter, but before I can take a breath, you’re prancing around in those short shorts wearing just the one layer and all I can think about is riding you into next week!” Dean’s eyes got impossibly wider and he cleared his throat while his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink and his mouth turned up in a cocky smirk. “And then, you brought me in here and just kissed me like I’m something special, like I’m something precious, and I just couldn’t… I—” Tears started welling up in your eyes again, so you shook your head to clear it of the excess emotion. “I’m just feeling about half a dozen more feelings than I’m used to all at one time, and that’s when I’m not thinking about the idea that I might be in menopause and what that means.”

Oh, menopause. You’d been looking forward to it since you were twelve years old. The end to the cramping, the bleeding, the bloating, the hormonal insanity, the laundry, the binge-eating, the always trying to find new places to hide pads and tampons, the many different forms of birth control (each one worse than the last in terms of side effects), the fear of getting abducted and held for days during shark week without supplies, not to mention the fear of being half a second too slow during a hunt because you were exhausted from bleeding and felt like someone was stabbing a hot poker into your vagina. You’d cheered on every grey hair and wrinkle because it meant you were that much closer to fucking FREEDOM.

And now that it might be here, now that you were facing the prospect of hot flashes and night sweats, but nearing the end of all that irritation and discomfort, all you could think about was what you couldn’t have. What if you did meet someone and they decided they didn’t want you because you were too old? You’d never wanted kids, but now that the prospect was almost definitely off the table, were you sure? And now, with Dean sitting in front of you, looking like the possibility of so many things, it felt like a door was closing behind you and all you could see in front of you was walkers and adult diapers.

Dean took your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. “I can’t even begin to imagine everything that’s going on in that gorgeous brain of yours, right now.” His thumbs wiped across your cheeks, clearing away tears you hadn’t realized were falling again. “All I can do is tell you that I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here. You want to kick my ass? We’ll spar in the training room. You want to ride me into next week?” One eyebrow popped up and he gave you a cocky smirk. “You just say the word, gorgeous,” he said with a wink that made you smile. “You want to bake pies?” His smile suddenly outshone the sun. “Baby, you know, I can eat pies,” he said with a chuckle that made laughter bubble up from your chest. “You want to organize closets and buy sheets? I’ll get you new cards to shop with.” Dean took a breath and sighed, but his gaze never wavered from your eyes. “And if you want to be kissed like you’re something precious, that’s no problem, either.” He pulled you towards him and left a chaste kiss on your lips before wrapping you up in his embrace again, holding you close to his chest. “Because you are something precious, and you deserve to be kissed that way if that’s what you want.”

Your brain halted, then reversed, and replayed the last five seconds over again. Dean couldn’t possibly mean what he was implying, could he? You closed your eyes, unable to hear much of anything over the beating of your heart, and tried to sound nonchalant. “You don’t have to say that if you don’t really mean it, Dean. I’m not your usual flavor and I know it. I’m older than you, I’ve got grey hair and wrinkles, things sag, and… and there’s a lot I can’t give you, it turns out.” Although you were giving him an out, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping he wouldn’t take it.

“I do mean it.” His chest shifted next to you as he took in a nervous breath. “Every word.”

Disbelief and wonder coursed through you while Dean’s hands continued rubbing your back in a soothing rhythm, the motion only disturbed by a slight tremor.

“I’m no spring chicken, either, you know,” Dean continued. “I mean, I’m older than I ever thought I’d get, and when I look at you, I just see the most impressive, most badass, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” Dean sighed, the whoosh of the air going through his chest sounding louder than before as his heartbeat became a drum in your ear. “You take no shit, which is why I never thought you’d ever have anything to do with me.”

Keeping your face buried in his chest, listening to the rapid beat beneath your ear, you replied, “You’re something pretty special to me, too, Dean.”

You felt more than heard Dean’s sigh of relief when he loosened his hold on you so he could cup your face and kiss you again. There was kiss after kiss after kiss, with only enough space between them for a breath or a happy noise. When he finally slowed down, there were words interspersed between his chaste kisses.

“I’m so—” kiss, “happy—” kiss, “to hear you—” kiss, “say that.”

Kissing became nearly impossible as you both started smiling too widely to pucker up, anymore. You gave up on proper kissing and just sat there for a minute or so, your foreheads pressed together as you both smiled like giddy schoolkids. Eventually, Dean shifted a little underneath you and then gave out a disgusted groan.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I really need to clean up from what happened in the library. It’s getting grossly uncomfortable.” He helped you slide off his lap and stood up, shifting in his shorts with a grimace. “Yup. Need a shower.”

You stood up and wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a nervous smile. “I should clean up after my attack on the library, too. Meet you back here in half an hour?”

Dean gave you a cocky smile while he ran his hands up and down your sides, feeling your curves. “Instead of showering next to each other, with a wall and a couple of shower curtains between us, how about we shower together and save water?” His eyebrows positively waggled with lascivious intent.

Laughter burst from your mouth so loudly it surprised you, your hand flying to your mouth to contain it. “Save water, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said with a sexy smile. “We can see how well those new shower curtains keep Sammy from hearing what we’re up to.”

Read PART 3 HERE!

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[dawnowar]

Oh, its menopause.

Okay so like I’ve been nursing a broken rib for the last 6 or so weeks and it takes about 6 weeks to heal so I’m about healed now. The beginning part was painful af but its the 3x i’ve had this injury so I know to just remain upright as much as possible, because thats when it hurts least, and since it was Christmas I mostly hung out at bars and drank a lot to dull the pain because I hate pain pills and I never went to the Dr anyway for it cause they dont do anything anyway. I bet they dont even give you real pain pills for that anymore either. 

So i got bronchitis somewhere in the middle which sucked a lot because it felt like it was healing till i started coughing so I had to suffer through that. Mostly on cough medicine which puts me to sleep and sleeping in the bed hurts my rib so that was just more suffering. 

But eventually i got back to work with some pain and some coughing leftover. If i sleep on my right side, the pain/coughing is worse in the morning so when I woke up, went to work, drank a cup of coffee the other day and started coughing up gunk and feeling really hot and sick and like I might pass out. Thought maybe I have pneumonia or something from my broken rib/bronchitis. Maybe I’m DYING... so I took off some layers and thought about checking my new health insurance for the nearest urgent care but i a few minutes i cooled down and I was fine.

Was that a hot flash? Is that what hot flashes are like? Sure im 50, almost 51 now, but my periods are regular like clockwork and always have been. 

I dont know what i thought they were like. I guess I thought you turn red and sweaty and you take off your sweater and fan yourself cause that’s all I’ve ever seen. Like i just thought you feel warm I guess. I didn’t expect you feel sick and I didnt expect you’d suspect you’d have pneumonia. And I didn’t know your periods could still be regular when you get them and i didn’t know they have triggers and I didn’t know i just did two of the things on the list of triggers before I got this hot flash. 

I googled it and learned so much stuff I never knew. 

and then i realized it not only wasn’t my first one, but i’m having them at night on the regular. Night sweats they call it. I have them every night for awhile now. I just thought, because i get cold before bed, that i dress too warmly and use too many blankets. I have an electric blanket and i go to bed in more clothes than i wear in real life plus regular blankets too. I can’t sleep if im cold and I’m always cold when I go to bed.. if anything I’m having cold flashes... 

Wait......is that a thing?

So i google it and it’s not only totally a menopause thing but the descriptions and accounts I’m reading are exactly me. And I’ve been having cold flashes for a really long time. Maybe thats just what I’m like but i always get really cold before bed, but last few months I’ve been getting really cold when I’m tired even sometimes when its not bedtime or when I shouldn’t normally be tired. I’ve been taking it as a sign that I need to sleep. 

I had no idea it was a sign of Menopause.

in fact when i look at the list of perimenopause symptoms I have a HUGE number of them. In the last few months its gotten worse. but its winter and I’ve been drunk with a broken rib and/or on cold medicines with bronchitis and i just really attributed so much of it to these abnormal conditions which will pass when I’m healthy again.

So here I am. I’ve mostly stopped coughing and the pain in my side is still there but i can do most stuff again without hurting myself. And I still wake up in the middle of the night hot..... I thought I was waking up hot because i go to bed cold with so much clothes and blankets on. So halfway through the night, every night, i wake up sweaty, take off all my clothes and fall asleep on top of the blanket while the cat bitches cause I jostled him doing all this. and after awhile i cool back down and wake up again and get under one blanket to sleep till morning.

Had no idea that’s “Night Sweats” and thats a menopause thing.

I went out drinking w an old bf last summer and I guess i did this at his house. I woke up in the middle of the night and I was so sick but it didn’t feel like you get sick from drinking too much. I went to the bathroom and I couldn’t throw up even though I tried... I felt awful and I took off all my clothes and laid down on the cold bathroom floor for awhile... I was overheated and same thing, once I cooled down I was fine again. Turns out drinking is a trigger for hot flashes. I didn’t know that either. He was like.. what was that about? and I had no answer. I just felt like I was dying for a minute and then i didnt die and i was ok. 

I’ve had this experience when I’ve fallen asleep w the electric blanket on before, which is why i always preheat the bed and turn it off now, but now im doing it nightly without the heat on. 

I found a podcast.. two women talking about their menopause and everything they’re saying is so familiar .. the one that gets hot flashes even said she thought maybe she was getting sick or maybe its cause they had no air conditioning, etc. I always thought I’d know i was having hot flashes if i was having hot flashes. 

Well anyway, I’m in the early stages of perimenopause now. Which still gives me 3-5 years (i keep reading 1-10 years too) before my period starts to stop for real and then i guess they don’t even count it as menopause until after its stopped for a year so who knows how long I’ll be like this for. 

I don’t have all the symptoms. Thankfully just the ones that I’m already managing best i can mostly. And none of the sexual ones not that that’s any of your business. And regular periods which is what made this all so confusing for me. I thought that was the first sign, when your periods change. But I guess not. 

I’ve been saying I need to figure out how to be old people now. By that I mean the stereotypes of old people aren’t gonna work for me so there’s no already designated way to be to fall into for me. I’m gonna have to carve out my own path. 

I’m not sure I need to do a lot of things very differently but then there’s a big part of me that has been wanting to make some changes. Theres a lot of me that has been making big changes for over a year now. Something about hitting 50 around the same time Charlottesville went down made me reevaluate a lot of my friendships with a lot of people who took what I think is a very wrong position on a lot of issues that I feel are central to who i am as a person and it’s made me really have to take a long hard look at what matters to me and what doesn’t.

That was 50.

I’m about to turn 51 now and most of what i did in my 50th year was clean house. Jettison the people and things in my life that didn’t make me happy. Like that Netflix lady that makes you clean your house. If it doesnt spark joy, throw it out. 

Taking this mentality towards my “friends” has been liberating since I’d apparently accumulated a lot of relationships that were more obligations than actual good relationships with people who care about me. 

It was both hard and rewarding even though I find myself a lot more isolated now. But i did this something like 15 yrs ago and I traded up. Every “friend” I lost, i replaced with someone better. I hope this goes like that too. I’m a very social person and I think I tend to collect people... and sometimes you really do have to go through them and decide who to keep and who not to. 

So here I am with my fluctuating hormones making me too hot or too cold, despite what the thermostat says, thinking I’m 51 now and 51 is going to be about figuring out how to be old people now.

First thing I gotta figure out is menopause. 

[exjade]

From: source

A detransitioned woman recently conducted a survey of detransitioners (Stella, 2016c). Though the survey was only open for two weeks, more than 200 women completed it. Clearly, there are more than just a handful of people who are coming to re-identify as female. The survey results are compelling.

• 92.5% of those who responded said that their dysphoria was the same or better after detransitioning than during transition.

• Only 8% of respondents felt somewhat or completely positive toward their own transition, whereas 60.2% felt somewhat or completely negative toward it.

Following are quotes from the individual comments included by survey respondents:

• “I used transition as self-harm. It destroyed so many parts of my life.”

• “My seeking medical and social transition led to a deep spiral of depression and lack of identity—and was probably also caused by those things. The social ostracization led to increased anxiety and my grades were devastated.”

• “I was a train wreck waiting to happen and transition fed the insecurities, anxiety and hopelessness” (Stella, 2016c).

The following is a quote from detransitioner and blogger Max Robinson, with her permission:

I transitioned FtM (female to male) at 16, was on testosterone and had a double mastectomy by 17. 

I absolutely am traumatized by what happened to me, and I'm not the only one. I'm a part of support networks for women who stopped transition that have over 100 members, and that's just the individuals who have gone looking for others with this experience and found us.Early in my transition, I went through menopause. This caused vaginal atrophy and drip incontinence that has persisted for years. I piss myself slowly all day now; it's really not cute or fun. I refused to acknowledge it was connected to the HRT-caused vaginal atrophy that immediately preceded its onset until months after going off testosterone. Yeah, I signed a paper saying I knew that could happen. I also thought this treatment was my only hope for coping with the intense feelings of alienation/disgust with my femaleness. I was wrong. Transition didn't help. It did harm, harm that I now have to learn how to live with on top of all the shit I thought transition would fix.

My double mastectomy was severely traumatizing. I paid a guy, a guy who does this every day for cash, to drug me to sleep and cut away healthy tissue. I did this because I believed it would heal all of the emotional issues I was blaming on my female body. It didn't work. Now I'm still all fucked up and I'm missing body parts, too.

There is no surgery that will undo what's been done… adding synthetic materials to resemble the tissue of mine that was incinerated years ago would not help me. It took 3 years of stuffing down every negative feeling about my mastectomy before I was ready to face that what happened did harm to me. I was off hormones for months before I admitted to myself that I deeply, deeply regretted this surgery. I have lost my breasts and I have lost the chance to reconcile with my breasts. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be work worth doing. Now the work before me instead is reconciling with what I've done and with the chest I have now—flat, scarred, asymmetrical, and nerve-damaged. (Robinson, 2016)

Detransitioner and blogger Cari Stella went on testosterone and had a double mastectomy as a teenager. In a video she made, she lets viewers know that she is not just some statistic. Looking right at the camera, she tells us that “I'm a real live 22-year-old woman with a scarred chest, and a broken voice and a five o'clock shadow because I couldn't face the idea of growing up to be a woman. That is my reality” (Stella, 2016a).

It has been demonstrated that pediatric transition can have serious side effects and comes with the possibility of a high incidence of regret. Now I would like to discuss how social factors and therapeutic practices are playing a role in encouraging young people to transition.

In recent years, young people (tweens and teens) have been presenting with dysphoria “out of the blue” without ever having expressed any gender variance before (https://transgendertrend.com/rapid-onset-gender-dysphoria-research-study/). An announcement of being transgender is often preceded by anxiety, depression, social isolation, loss, or trauma. This now-common presentation was virtually unheard of until a few years ago. The sudden onset of gender dysphoria seems to be correlated with a couple of factors.

One is social media use. On sites such as YouTube, thousands of homemade videos chronicle the gender transitions of teenagers. The Tumblr blog “Fuck Yeah FTMs” features photo after photo of young FtMs celebrating the changes wrought by testosterone. “I finally have freedom!” posters boast under photographs of their scarred chests post mastectomy. “I'm no longer pre-T!” boasts another under a video of someone injecting testosterone. “My name is Cameron! I'm a nineteen-year-old nonbinary/trans person living in Ohio! I'm excited to say that yesterday was my first injection! I am so happy with the person I am becoming.” Almost all of these posters are under 25 years of age.

Young people can find plenty of in-group validation online. There is an incredibly positive climate around being trans in many places on the Internet. On just one of the hundreds of thousands of YouTube videos that document the poster's “top surgery,” there are 48 comments such as:

“Can't believe how far you've come! You are amazing in every way!”

“So proud and happy for you.”

“You are totally rad.”

“By the way, you are totally attractive.”

Young people are also finding validation online for their self-diagnosis as transgender. The blog transgenderreality.com meticulously details the process by which a questioning young person is encouraged to understand his or her symptoms as evidence of being trans. Young people on reddit and other social media sites explain that they started wondering whether they were trans because they enjoyed creating opposite-sex avatars in online games and liked the clothing or hairstyles of the opposite sex. Commentators frequently respond by telling them they sound like a “textbook case” and congratulate them on “finding out early.”

The second correlative factor is having peers who also identify as trans. We are seeing kids coming out together in peer groups. The following quotes are all taken from parent comments on the blog 4thwavenow unless otherwise noted.

We are a progressive family caught in the teenage transgender wave. It's so scary. I can't even put it into words. What we are seeing are pockets of teens in different towns who are declaring themselves either non-binary or transgender. In many cases, these are teens who showed no gender variance at all, and then they get connected with a group in their high school, and suddenly a large percentage of them are identifying this way. The information they find on the Internet convinces them that physical transitioning via hormones and surgery is not only the only way to go but should also be available to them right now, as soon as they want it. I am very concerned that the medical community is not looking at the sheer number of teens, post-puberty, who are making these kinds of declarations and asking whether this can be genuine or a temporary stop on the process of figuring out one's identity as a teenager. Peer influence is just so huge in these kids. As soon as they turn 18, they are seeking medical intervention, and the model now is informed consent, so we have lots of teenagers and young adults making permanent changes to their bodies when their brains have not yet reached adulthood. Very, very scary.

In my daughter's extra-curricular activity, one of the groups has about 20 kids in it (all teenagers). Seven of those kids are natal females. THREE of those seven females are publicly out as FTM. This does not include my daughter, who has never come out publicly. So four of seven girls have some issue with gender identity. Of the three girls who have socially transitioned, one is on testosterone and has had surgery. All are under 18. All of them made this discovery after puberty.

My daughter befriended some trans kids from her acting troupe. When you look at this group, each year they are something different. There are kids who, upon joining, are just “allies,” the next year they are bisexual, the next year they are gay, and then the final year, they are trans. And at every step of the way, they are being applauded and receiving so much positive support from themselves, each other, the group, the grownups, and the audiences they address (I call this the “echo chamber”). But it's fishy. Why are there so many kids who, the more they hang out, all of a sudden, they are trans too? It doesn't make sense.

My daughter, who is 17, told me last year on Mother's Day that she was now my son. When I began researching this subject, I was extremely concerned with the medical intervention that takes place with these children. Then when I went to a meeting for parents with transgender children, I was shocked about how all of these parents were jumping on the bandwagon of drugs and surgery without questioning. They even complain about wait times for surgeries! Unfortunately, here in Canada, children as young as 16 can make medical decisions for themselves and parents are not allowed to intervene (and surgeries are free).

My daughter decided she is transgender just as soon as she learned of it as a concept, in her senior year of high school. The previous school year she was dealing with a lot of anxiety and stress. She learned of transgender from a small high school group of friends. The university diversity center director took a group of transgender students to a free gender clinic, where my daughter then returned and received, after a single visit, a prescription for testosterone.I am the mother of a young man in his late 20s who, within the space of just a few months of bingeing on reddit and YouTube transition videos, decided that he was transgender, and is undergoing transition at a frightening speed. Obviously, he is old enough to do whatever he pleases, and all I can do is grieve quietly as I watch him from afar as he destroys his physical and mental health.

In my local high school my daughter is in the marching band. She plays an instrument, but she is friends with many girls in the color guard. There are about 25 members of the color guard this year. All of them are natal female. Last year my daughter told me that almost all of them felt they were lesbian. This year, almost all of them feel they are transgender, agender, or, at the very least, are questioning their gender identities. I've noticed that many of them have similar haircuts and that some of them are binding. Many constantly discuss their gender identities and agonize about “coming out” to their parents. Their lives seem to be focused on this subject 24/7, which has driven away certain non-transgender friends. No adults have stepped into help, even though they are aware of what is happening. (Anonymous, Private correspondence, 2016)

[thisdaynews]

I Thought Being a Health Care Reporter Would Make Cancer Easier. I Was Wrong.

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/i-thought-being-a-health-care-reporter-would-make-cancer-easier-i-was-wrong/

I Thought Being a Health Care Reporter Would Make Cancer Easier. I Was Wrong.

The other night, like most nights, I wake up several times, drenched in sweat. I get up. I pee and peel off all my clothes and change into new ones. I drink whatever is in the glass on my nightstand I am so dehydrated.

I go to the bathroom sink and splash water on my face to try to cool down before dealing with my soaking-wet sheets.

Story Continued Below

I am 32 years old and I am going through menopause. It’s temporary, and I chose to endure it when I got a life-threatening breast cancer diagnosis a year ago. But it’s a lot worse than I expected.

Going through early menopause is just one of many decisions I’ve made about my treatment program over the past 12 months. Right now, I’m a walking consequence of those decisions. In five years, I will have another choice to make: Whether I’m going to stop menopause and have children. Getting pregnant would pump my body full of estrogen and potentially stimulate any micro tumors that are floating around in my blood, which are undetectable of course. I am not looking forward to that decision.

When I wrote my first essay about having breast cancer for POLITICO Magazine after my diagnosis last year, I was struck by how many cancer survivors and fellow patients got in touch with me, welcoming me to “the cancer club.” At first, I didn’t want to be in the club. For one thing, it was full of “sick” people, and I wasn’t ready to join the ranks. For another, I didn’t think I needed it.

Oh, how wrong I was. Now I realize what the cancer club really is. It’sa real network of patients who pass advice to one another—in my experience, over social media—about how to pick treatment programs and how to deal with their side effects. (My favorite cancer club recommendation? Taking Claritin to help with bone pain caused by a drug intended to keep my white blood cell count up so that I can keep receiving chemotherapy. Also, ginger candies.)

If I’ve learned anything over the past year, it’s that nothing—not even being a health care reporter, not even having a scientist as a father and a doctor as a sister—can prepare you for the immense number of complicated, sometimes life-or-death decisions the disease and the system force you to make about your own treatment, all on your own.

Here’s what I mean: There is a standard protocol for treating cancer—for me, that involves chemotherapy, hormonal therapy, surgery and radiation. These treatment programs are best practices based on the strongest available data for my type of cancer. What most people don’t realize is that patients need to decide on their own whether to undergo their standard treatment regimen—and then whether to undergo anything else beyond it, including everything from clinical trials or experimental drug programs that haven’t been approved by the federal government yet to less well-studied holistic approaches such as diets and supplements. While doctors can guide you through decisions, when it comes to breast cancer treatment, few will make them for you.

This is because many of the choices women are forced to makeare really personal: like, whether you ever want to have children, or how much of life’s pleasures you are willing to give up to stave off the disease. Different doctors, by the way, also give conflicting guidance. That is where the cancer club comes in.

In all, I can think of six major decisions I made over the year, the consequences of which I am now living with.

The first three (after deciding to proceed with chemotherapy and surgery)—where to get treated, whether to participate in a clinical trial and then which one—were about life. The next three—whether to try and preserve my hair, which breast surgery to get and how badly I wanted to be able to have kids later on—were largely about living. While going through menopause hasn’t been fun,wrestling with these decisions has also changed me in a positive way, by forcing me to decide what is most important in my life. That has been the biggest silver lining to getting cancer.

But having to make so many decisions about my treatment program also opened my eyes to how disparate and overwhelming the health care system is and how intimidating it is to patients. I am one of the best equipped people to navigate it: I am a health care reporter and my dad works in the system as a scientist. Between the two of us, we have a lot of access to people and information, which is a privilege. Most patients aren’t so lucky.

And yet, I feel totally buried navigating the system much of the time.

***

Let’s go back to the beginning. It’s August 2018, and I’ve just been diagnosed with breast cancer. I’m only 31 years old. When write my last essay, I am still waiting to find out what type of cancer I have and how life-threatening it is.

It seems like forever until my surgeon, Dr. Brian Czerniecki—the head of Tampa’s Moffitt Cancer Center’s breast department—calls with the results of my final tests.

I have Stage II cancer in my left breast, he tells me. It feeds on estrogen, which is good for treatment, painful for my personal life. At the time, medical tests show six tumors in my left breast and three in my left lymph nodes, under my armpit. Because the cancer hasprogressed to my armpit, Czerniecki suggests I consider doing a clinical trial in tandem with chemotherapy before undergoing surgery and radiation.

What I hear on that phone call is that I am going to live. I know as soon as he says “Stage II,” that the cancer hasn’t advanced far enough throughout my body to be seriously life-threatening. I breathe for the first time in weeks and tune out his technical talk. I agree to come down for a meeting.

That Monday, my at-the-time new boyfriend (now fiancé), Lawrence, and I get up in the middle of the night to drive four hours to Tampa to pick up my dad, who is coming from Boston, at the airport. In the morning, the three of us meet with Czerniecki and my oncologist, Dr. Heather Han. The goal is to find out which clinical trials Moffitt Cancer Center has to offer me.

If I participate in a clinical trial like Czerniecki advises, I will be treated at Moffitt because the cancer center offers them—trials don’t exist at every hospital. If I don’t, I can get treated in Tallahassee, where I live and work, Han says. There is no guarantee either of the two trials will work better than chemotherapy on its own.

The first trial at Moffitt involves some of the latest immunotherapy drugs and the second has shown good preliminary results for patients with estrogen-driven cancer like mine. Hanthen explains the trials in details I can no longer remember. She wants me to make a decision by Wednesday, two days from now. Han and I are both eager to start treatment and I still have to qualify for the trial I select, which also takes time, something we don’t have a lot of.

The end of our roughly hourlong meeting begins the most stressful 48 hours ofmy life.

That night, my dad and Lawrence and I get a drink in our hotel’s lobby before dinner. We bring our paperwork describing the different trials with us, study them and debate their pluses and minuses. In my gut, I am leaning toward the one that has good preliminary results. It’s a much simpler trial and would require me to travel to Moffitt less often.

My dad says that’s not bad logic, but he wants more opinions. He calls his colleagues and asks them to help us understand the nuances. My dad is a geneticist who partners a lot on cancer research, but even he is out of his depth.

Lawrence stands up to get us a second round.

“He’s the one,” my dad, who has hated every boyfriend I’ve ever had, says to me. “A person who sticks with you through cancer sticks with you through life.” (One of my doctors later tells me a lot her patients’ marriages end in divorce.)

Getting to know Lawrence and our relationship through this terrible circumstance is another great silver lining to cancer. When your life is on the line, it’s important to stack those silver linings on top of one another until they shine really bright.

On Tuesday, Lawrence and I drive to Orlando so we can cover for our respective news outlets what was supposed to be Democratic gubernatorial candidate Gwen Graham’s primary victory party. Graham loses in a huge upset to Tallahassee Mayor Andrew Gillum. I spend the night live-chatting the historic moment—Gillum is Florida’s first black gubernatorial candidate in a general election—for POLITICO and pacing through random hallways on my cellphone trying to listen to advice from my dad’s friend, Dr. Michael Lotze, an oncologist at the University of Pittsburgh.

Lotze, bless him and his wonderful scientific mind, is intent on explaining the term “equipoise” to me. It essentially means that picking a clinical trial is partially just dumb luck because no one really knows which is better and that’s why it’s a trial in the first place. It’s experimental and I am a test subject. But I am participating in the trial because itcouldmake my response to chemotherapy better, he tells me.

That’s the gist with both trials, but they’re otherwise very different. He tries to warn me about getting too many opinions; I disregard his advice.

I walk out of the women’s restroom where I finally land in my conversation with him and spend some of the night complaining to Pati Mazzei, the Florida correspondent for theNew York Times, about my situation.

“How will I ever report through this?” I tell her as we lean on The Social’s bar in downtown Orlando at Graham’s event. “I haven’t even started treatment yet, and I’m already so overwhelmed.”

“You’ll learn,” Mazzei says.

On Wednesday, I spend much of the day in an email chain with my dad’s friends and colleagues who are trying to help.

The team is torn.

When immunotherapy drugs work, they work really well. And that’s appealing because I am decades younger than most women who get breast cancer and I want the most effective drugs I can get. (This treatment targets the immune system instead of cells and can keep cancer away for longer.)

But there’s a chance those drugs won’t work, and that trial involves a lot more tests and a lot more driving to Moffitt. It would also delay part of my chemotherapy. I ultimately pick the other trial, which has one additional experimental drug, which seems to be working well on women with estrogen-driven breast cancer like mine. I tease my dad that I could have just gone with my gut 48 hours ago and been done with the entire ordeal.

Instead of catching the hint, my dad gets hung up on wanting to test me for specific genes he thinks are related to the experimentaldrug. Czerniecki finally waves him off the idea for reasons I still don’t really understand.

So, I pick my clinical trial. Now, will I get treated entirely at Moffitt? Yes, I decide. I could choose to get a local oncologist in Tallahassee, where I live, but I don’t want to disrupt the continuity of my care. I am worried that more doctors equals more administration, which equals a higher risk for mistakes. (I don’t realize at the time that I am going to eventually get an oncologist in my hometown, anyway.)

My decisions mean that Lawrence and I drive 10 hours each week to Moffitt for the first three months of treatment so that I can receive my clinical trial drug and the first round of my chemotherapy each Friday. After that, we drive down again every other week for two months so that I can receive the second round of chemotherapy. (Luckily, 160 hours later, Lawrence and I are still together.)

The next major decision I make is just as important as picking a clinical trial but probably less talked about and less understood. That’s because there aren’t a lot of breast cancer patients who, like me, haven’t had kids yet. There’s a chance that chemotherapy could make me infertile. The risk ranges according to a woman’s age and the drugs she takes, but one doctor tells me my chances of infertility are about 1 in 10.

I don’t like those odds. So, Han offers to help setup an appointment at the University of South Florida in Tampa, where I can freeze my eggs. But another oncologist, Dr. Ann Partridge, discourages me from the idea.

Partridge studies breast cancer in young women at Harvard and tells me she has reservations about freezing my eggs because the process would require me to produce a lot of estrogen, which could potentially make my tumors grow faster. Partridge says she doesn’t typically discourage patients from freezing their eggs, but my risk could be greater since my tumors are still in my body.

“How badly do you want to have kids?” she asks me. If it’s the most important thing in the world to you, then freeze your eggs, she says. But the procedure could put my life in even more peril than it is now.

I want kids but I don’t want to die before I can have them. And, also, freezing your eggs costs thousands of dollars, and myinsurance won’t cover it. So that decision turns out to be easier than I think.

Instead, I choose to put my ovaries to sleep through a shot once a month that will lower the amount of estrogen in my body.It will help protect my ovaries and my finite number of eggs from chemotherapy. It’s also just a good idea since my cancer feeds on estrogen.

Inshort, these shots will send my body into temporary menopause, Partridge tells me. It will last for as long as I get the shots. It will also exacerbate some of the side effects of chemotherapy: hot flashes, vaginal dryness, a lower sex drive and a kind of loss of sexual identity … but I don’t know that yet.

“Sex doesn’t work, like physically,” I tell a nurse practitioner I like a lot during the winter. She tells me it’s normal.

Lawrence takes my hand. I start to cry as I explain how I feel more like a vessel for some war going on in my body than I do a woman.

“You’re still hot,” Lawrence tells me.

Then on to the question ofsurgery. I tell the nurse practitioner my fears, which, I am embarrassed to admit, center on vanity.

Czerniecki, my surgeon, wants to just remove the tumors through a procedure called a lumpectomy as opposed to removing the entire breast through a mastectomy, I tell the nurse. The choice is ultimately mine, but I trust Czerniecki’s judgment.

Still, I have my reservations. “But the left breast is already smaller than the right breast,” I tell her. “I know they have to take a wide margin. I mean there are six tumors in there. I can’t imagine there will be any breast left.”

She nods. I feel like she’s really listening to me and notice how strange it is to feel so much warmth towards a person in such a sterile room.

You’ll just have to balance your body image with what’s safest for you, she says. A mastectomy and reconstructive surgery are both far more extensive procedures than a lumpectomy.

Lawrence tells me later the mastectomy sounds too dangerous and unnecessary. I know he’s right. I just don’t want to walk around with half a boob. And I feel shame for wanting to get implants if I’m not getting my breasts entirely removed.

“Honey, don’t worry about that,” Lawrence tells me. “Get your boobs if you want them. You’ve earned them.”

The final decision I must make before I can start treatment is whether to try and preserve my hair or to buy a wig or to go entirely bald.

Patients can preserve their hair through a “cold cap” process where they apply cooling gel and wrap their heads during chemotherapy. It works but it’s expensive and my insurance doesn’t cover it. My insurance also doesn’t reimburse me for purchasing a wig, which it turns out is very itchy.

So, I go bald. (Until it gets very cold, and then, I wear a hat.)

A woman who lives in Tallahassee and who also had breast cancer—a member of the cancer club—messages me on Twitter. “Seeing you bald and proud made me smile,” she writes. “I never had the guts to go without my hat. Hang in there.”

I tell her the message has made my entire week, but really, it’s made every single day a little bit sunnier.

“We stand bald together,” I write back.

I was feeling so positive that day. But then I returned to what I wonder every day: whether my treatment decisions mean I can never have children.

It’s hard to imagine surviving cancer without them.

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