Hello, flow.

The other day I started my period again. The timing could not have been more perfect. The night before, I was thinking about how glorious it was to not have to deal with my monthly flow. No cramps. No crying in bed while my sweet but flabbergasted husband brings me coffee and painkillers. No rinsing out bloody cups or dealing with paper products that give me the same environmental uneasiness as the diaper debate. It has been great, and I wondered if it might last until I stop breastfeeding, as is common among many on-demand, comfort-suckling mommas.
Of course, the next morning I  woke up with blood-stained sheets. Oh well, 14 months has been a good amount of freedom.
The next section is going to get a bit gory, so you might want to skip it if female functions make you squirm.
Ever since I started my period, I have had short but intense monthly flows. I use the term ‘monthly’ loosely here. I have never been regular and can have up to 60 days between periods without wondering where it is. In fact, given my irregular periods, I was surprised at how quickly Nikola and I got pregnant. I thought I would have a hell of a time. I also thought the painful cramping I have endured for many years would help me endure the pain of childbirth. Apparently I know nothing about my own body, though.
Now that my flow has returned, it is nothing like it used to be. Before, I bled for a single day and rarely more than an ounce. Now, I am halfway through my fourth day and loosing plenty of blood. Before, it hurt like the dickens. Now, I haven’t had any more cramping than the occasional tightening of my uterus that I occasionally get while breastfeeding. I have also lost a kilogram that I have apparently still been holding in water weight since the birth. I feel fantastic. I feel like I am in my body for the first time since I got pregnant. I no longer feel like an absurd balloon, even though I am still 9kg heavier than I was 15 months ago. I can deal with the mess and extended period if it means I am functional and no longer hate being a woman once a month!
The less graphic thoughts…
Nikola and I are pretty much sure that we want to have a second child. Well, we were before I gave birth. Then, I was like, ‘Hell no, never again.’ Then Peatuk started growing and we fell in love with him and now, honestly, he is just so perfect that I can’t imagine adding a second baby to the mix. Is our family complete?
Still, we joked about having another baby over the past few months, and it was funny because I knew it couldn’t happen. Now, I am suddenly back in service, and we can, maybe should, consider the question seriously. It suddenly changes everything… The way I consider our finances, the way I think about Peatuk, and the way I feel about sex. Whoever thought that a little bit of blood could change so much?
Gynecologists suggest 3-4 years between babies. Child psychologists suggest either less than two years or more than five. My body suggests adopting. My lack of patience towards government processes suggests I use my own body. Nikola is down for whatever, whenever. Peatuk thinks he is an adult already, and babies tend to freak him out. And me? I have no idea what I want.

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