I soon became well acquainted with my monthly cycles, and as much as I tried, they were certainly something I couldn't ignore. I was terribly anaemic, my periods became heavier and more painful and I was soon taking a day off school most months, paralysed with sickness, curled and cramped up in bed with a hot water bottle. The shooting pains down my legs were just another factor to add to my suffering. I found the thought of having to go through this torture every four weeks for the next 40 years quite harrowing. Mum discouraged me from taking time away from education, but some days were so unbearable, I just couldn't face the trauma of having to deal with dysmenorrhoea at school. Mum was even convinced I had appendicitis until the pain was apparently cyclical. This abhorrent monthly gift was making me extremely miserable and affecting my quality of life but I just assumed this was a completely normal. I was a girl and I was stuck with it.
I've had many traumatic menstrual experiences over the years but a couple in particular will be rooted in my memory forever. The first was on holiday, our first family trip abroad to France in the summer of 1994. I wasn't feeling well but my parents convinced me to join them and my brother on the beach. I spent an hour in a foetal position in the shade but the cramps and the sweltering heat combined made it unbearable. Dad helped me to the car but I remember passing out with the pain on the beach before we got there. Back at the tent, I spent the rest of the day on a flimsy, foam mattress bed and distracted myself from the discomfort by tuning in to TMS on Radio 4 (we won the third test at The Oval to draw the series against South Africa). The avuncular voice of Aggers undoubtedly helped me through that day! There was a further incident on holiday a couple of years later where again my Dad (my hero) got up and escorted me to the toilet block in the early hours of the morning when I was doubled over with stomach cramps. After the pain had eased, we sat up watching the sunrise over the fields, both convinced we saw a black panther in the distance. I think he was probably humouring me though.
Another occasion, while I was in the first year at sixth form, I was due to sit a French Oral exam and Aunt Flo had decided to make an early appearance. Horrified, I had no choice but to put up with the pain and go through with the exam. I made sure I was prepared just before I went in but half way through (it was only half an hour), I realised The Great Flood Had Cometh. Never again would I wear light coloured jeans.
Shortly after that, Mum took me to the doctors and I was prescribed Microgynon® - a brand of contraceptive combined pill. It meant my periods were more regular, less heavy and most importantly, less painful. It was such a relief to finally find a way of managing my monthly nemesis.
After the ski season, we moved to London and it was around this time I started to notice I was suffering more and more with bloating, pelvic and rectal cramps, constipation and other gruesomeness (I won't elaborate at this point). These symptoms were a great deal worse just before and during my period. To cut a long story short (the long version will be in the next post), I tried various different diets and finally got diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome - the collective condition doctors seem to bestow when they don't really know how else to diagnose it. I wasn't convinced but I lived with it.
At the age of 33, in September 2013, I chose to come off the pill after 17 years of continuous use. Jon and I decided that we would now just wait and see what nature would throw at us. Neither of us were desperate to have children right at that moment (we'd already been married for six years), but we had stopped using contraception for a reason - to get pregnant. I'd always suffered with jealousy when friends announced their joyous news, even when I was in my twenties and it was the last thing on my mind. I had these confusing, deep-rooted feelings that I was being left behind, I guess very similar to FOMO. Seeing our friends and the wonderful relationships they had with their children certainly made me think about being a mother a lot; I didn't want to get to 45 and regret the decision if we had decided not to become parents. I guess I just took it for granted that it would happen one day, as most people do.
Three and a half years later, it turns out Mother Nature isn't that great at throwing, not in our direction anyway.
October 2016, Queen Mary's Hospital, Roehampton. I get my referral for a laparoscopy with suspected endometriosis. Endo what?!