Collage of a purple lacey uterus with black lesions with one large and one small green ovarian cyst, and red vagina. Collage is on cut out gold metallic background with silver stripes.

Vulvodynia

Deep infiltrating endometriosis

Endometriosis

Ovarian cyst

Adenomyosis

night sweats

constipation

back pain

menstrual pain

painful bowel movement

frequent urination

Painful penetration

pelvic pain

Irregular periods

infertility

acne

hair loss

abdominal pain

My periods were always painful. Growing up, I remember being told that periods are just really painful for some people. The topic was taboo, and period pain was normalized. As a teen, I decided “I’ll take ibuprofen like candy, and I’ll just get through this.”

I remember sitting out in gym class due to cramps. In sixth grade, I bled through my pants in gym and had to get a pad from the teacher. I thought that was normal. I know now that it wasn’t. I was in a lot of pain growing up, and I think that I got the reputation of being a hypochondriac. Eventually, I felt like I was making it up a little bit. 

My periods were painful, but I still could live a normal life through my teens for the most part. I was able to go to school. In college, I started having really bad GI symptoms. Every time I ate, I would bloat, what we know now as endo belly, but huge. My abdomen was so distended that my skin hurt. I had abdominal cramps and severe, chronic constipation. I saw so many gastroenterologists. I had a colonoscopy. I had an endoscopy. I had countless GI tests. It was so bad that I even went to the Mayo Clinic. I was very privileged to be able to have done that, but even they told me it was just IBS caused by anxiety. They had me go to a support group at the Mayo Clinic with other people with IBS and anxiety. All of my resources it took to get there were wasted on being told that stress and anxiety were causing my symptoms. That’s the trouble with endometriosis. It is a whole-body disease, but so many providers view it as reproductive. Because of that, they don’t look for the GI symptoms. IBS is a very common misdiagnosis for endometriosis.

Unfortunately, I believe that experience just reinforced the idea in myself and others that Christina's anxious, and her symptoms are in her head. As time went on, I could eat fewer and fewer food groups. It was a joke with my peers. They’d say, "Christina's always eating a protein shake." It was because I couldn’t eat without having those horrible symptoms. 

Over the next decade, I started having more painful periods, and it was like "Oh, this really hurts." It just got worse and worse and worse over time. I was still taking over-the-counter meds, but I had to use heating pads and wasn’t able to do much on my periods.  In 2018, I started having hormonal acne on my face and back, and I had this severe pain in my right lower abdomen. I saw an OB-GYN. She did an ultrasound, and I had an ovarian cyst. It grew and lingered for a while. We did watchful waiting, because it got really big, but eventually it went away. I had a second one later that year, and that one went away. The abdominal pain continued all year, so I saw a few more doctors to look into that pain.

Every doctor that I saw for the cysts and the abdominal pain that year told me the pain was from anxiety. They would say "Oh, that sounds painful, but how are you dealing with stress at home?” As a medical professional myself, it blows my mind. You’re taught to listen to your patients. Clearly, they weren’t listening. There was almost always an anxiety med prescription. They would determine I had a cyst. Then they’d say “Hey, why don't we get you some Lexapro?”  just at the end of the appointment.  I do have anxiety, but it's from the illnesses, not the other way around. I didn't get a cyst born out of stress.

I would leave so frustrated that nobody believed my pain or wanted to investigate. Later on, when I found out it was endo, I asked for my records from one of the doctors, and her notes said that my number one differential diagnosis was anxiety. Pelvic pain was number two.

That year, I started to have very light periods. They were pink instead of red, and they would start and stop for several days. They were very irregular, and I'd never been that irregular before. That was when intercourse started to become uncomfortable. 

At that point, I had all of those symptoms of GI issues, abdominal pain, my periods getting more painful and irregular, and hormonal acne and cysts, but I was still functioning somewhat well. I woke up in January 2019 with severe abdominal pain. It was literally overnight. It was in that right lower abdominal area, and it was really severe.

I went to a new OB-GYN, assuming it was another cyst. She performed an ultrasound, but there was no cyst. She ordered a CT scan to see if it was appendicitis, but no appendicitis either. Then she mentioned endometriosis. I saw a second OB-GYN for a second opinion, and she also mentioned endometriosis. I'm lucky that they mentioned endometriosis, because they don’t always think of it.

Luckily, I did some looking on social media, and I found a support group on Facebook of people in my area with endometriosis. I found endo advocates on Instagram, and I read everything I could about their experiences and appropriate treatment. I heard about Nancy's Nook, which is a Facebook group for people that acts as a medical library and resource center to learn everything I could about endometriosis. It also helped me find an excision surgeon in my area. 

While I waited the seven month wait for surgery, I was told that I should try birth control to help my symptoms. One thing I didn't mention is, over the last, however many years of painful periods, I tried so many birth control pills for the pain. I'm one of those people whose pain isn’t made better at all by birth control, and it really messes with my mental health. I’m sensitive to the hormones, and the side effects are not worth it at all to me. I tried to say no. I know I technically agreed to take it again, but I really wish it wasn't pushed on people with endo so much. I didn't know that there's a particular kind of vulvodynia called localized provoked vestibulodynia that can be triggered by hormonal imbalance caused by birth controls, and in particular, the one I was put on. It worsened my pain, and suddenly I had vulvodynia. I recently saw a pelvic pain specialist who confirmed that she believes it was caused by the birth control, and now I’m on medicine to help fix the imbalance. Anyway, that was a painful little detour in my story.

So back to endo. 2019 is when endo really came to a head for me. I had severe worsening period pain, horrible abdominal pain, pelvic pain and back pain all throughout the month. I lost a lot of weight. I soaked through my sheets every night with night sweats. The pain worsened with so many foods that I normally eat. Nightshades, dairy, gluten, sugar, grains of any kind, legumes. Alcohol was off the table. Exercise worsened it.  Almost every day was painful. Walking and standing for long periods would cause excruciating back pain. If I was upright, I would be hunched over. I know I screwed up my pelvic floor even worse then, because I was always clenched trying to walk.

Bowel movements were extremely painful. I was probably urinating 20 times a day. The pain was so severe that I was unable to function at all. I lived on a couch, basically. Every time I ate, I had pain that felt like barbed wire. They always described endo pain like barbed wire. It was like hot barbed wire hooking into all of my organs, and it would happen so abruptly after eating that I thought it was in my head. By the end of that year, I was only able to eat three foods. I could eat egg whites, chicken, and grapes. 

I lived on the couch with two heating pads wrapped around me. I lost a lot of weight. My hair became brittle and broke off. My acne got really bad. I had a horrible quality of life. I couldn't take care of myself. 

I got married that year. It was already being planned, so I went through with it, but it was the worst year ever to get married. I made it through the wedding and the reception, but when our friends wanted to go to a speakeasy afterward, I couldn't go. I had to leave my wedding early, because my back pain was so bad that I couldn’t stand anymore.

At that point, I was the weight I had been in junior high. I was so thin. Someone came up to me at the wedding and commented on my weight. I wanted to say "Don’t you know what I've been telling you I'm going through?" I don’t think people have any clue what a disease like endometriosis does to people’s bodies. 

I look at my wedding photos now, and I'm all done up and stuff, but I also know the pain I was in. I get compliments about my photos and I just think “I was so skinny and sick. Thin doesn’t mean healthy.” Anyway, I almost passed out at the wedding because I couldn't eat. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to attend my own wedding if I ate. I remember some of my bridesmaids were trying to encourage me to eat before the wedding. I told them I couldn’t, or else I couldn't get married. I had given too much to make the day happen, and I just couldn't eat, because I wouldn't fit in my dress or even be able to stand anymore. 

I went on our honeymoon in Spain, which I should have put off. I had no business trying to travel. I was completely incapacitated whenever we went out due to the back pain. 

I tried to eat what I wanted for the first two days. I tried to have some delicious Spanish cheeses, and wine, and meats and patatas bravas. That was a big mistake. I had the searing barbed wire pain. I had to encourage my husband to go out on his own to explore Spain while I laid in bed half of the honeymoon. Then he would eat out, and I would sit and not eat at the restaurant. Then we'd go back to the Airbnb, and I would eat my few safe foods.

On the 11-hour flight home, I had the most severe pain of my life, 10 out of 10. I was crying in the airplane bathroom in the mirror, repeating the mantra, "This is temporary." I had tears streaming down my face, and I had to repeat that just to get through that moment. It was so painful. It was this moment for me when I thought, "I just can't live a life anymore." That was such an expensive, well-planned-out adventure that I just didn't get to enjoy. I felt so defeated.

That was horrible. I got home from that and didn't really do anything until surgery in February. I just kept living on the couch covered in heating pads and feeling like I was wasting away. A few months later, I had excision surgery. That was two years ago yesterday. I had endometriosis on the anterior cul-de-sac, posterior cul-de-sac, rectum, bladder, wrapped around both ureters, uterosacral ligaments, ovaries, and small and large intestines, and I don't remember where else. My appendix was stuck to something else.

Back to the wonderful standard of care we get in the endo community, the surgeon didn't even stay to talk to me. He talked to my husband, and my husband videotaped it. It's just a video that shows the surgical photos and the surgeon flipping through them and pointing to pictures and saying things like "I think there was like a spot on the bladder. The appendix was stuck up over here. I just detached it." He went through it so quickly, and I’d been told he was the best in my state. 

Weeks later, I asked for the full pathology report, which did say endometriosis. I asked for the whole surgical report too. The sites of endometriosis on the surgical report were not the same as the surgeon described in the video. The video mentioned all the places I mentioned, but the surgical report only mentioned like three. I believe the video because there were photos circled showing where endo lesions were, but the report is completely wrong. 

It is terrifying to think about the fact that my records are wrong, and I don’t know with certainty where endometriosis was in my own body – on my own organs. I'm not surprised it's back now. After surgery, it was a very slow recovery. Finally, at about three months, I felt like I could start to do some more activity. Then at six months, I felt a lot, lot better. I didn't have a lot of muscle, and I was still thin, but I didn't have endo pain. 

My endo pain, that barbed wire, raw, stabbing pain, was gone after surgery. I know a lot of people with adenomyosis describe this experience once their endometriosis is removed, but the endo pain went away and I thought, "Wait, what's this coming to the forefront?" That's when I realized, "Oh, I have adenomyosis." My endo pain was gone, but my periods were worse than before, absolutely horrific. I can't describe how bad they were – just unreal. I felt deep, severe period pain around my uterus, my back, my hips, down my legs. Just the deepest ache you could imagine, then make it worse than that. 

My periods were no longer light and pink, which I now associate with my endo symptoms. They were dark red with little clots and very regular. It was always five days, always the same time each month, which was at least nice for planning purposes because my life would end on my period. I couldn't do anything due to the pain.

They got so severe that I got a prescription for oxycodone. If I was on my period, I was on around the clock ibuprofen, taking marijuana edibles and oxycodone, wrapped in two heating pads turned all the way up, laying on the couch, unable to function, unable to leave the house and not working.

I am trained as a nurse, and I haven't worked since the day I woke up with endo pain. I finally had the endo pain gone after excision surgery, and I thought I could work then. But the periods made it impossible. I had started nurse practitioner school and thought I'd be able to function. The periods were so bad then that I realized I couldn’t work. I thought "Oh, what job will let me just not be there five days a month?” because there's no way I could do anything. I just can't stress enough how much my life revolved around my period. I don't care what big event was happening in my life. It didn’t matter, and I couldn’t be there because I couldn't do anything on my period.

So at that point, the endo pain was gone, and I was having these horrible periods. I strongly suspected adenomyosis from my research. I knew that the only cure for adenomyosis is a hysterectomy, so I wanted to know if the doctor suspected it as well. I talked to the excision surgeon and they said, "It sounds like your symptoms might be adenomyosis." They told me to get an MRI, and it did show adenomyosis. Luckily, that radiologist knew what it looks like. The surgeon said, "Look, if you want children, you should try to conceive now if you can't keep living like this with your periods" and I couldn't. Luckily, I conceived soon after.

During pregnancy, I had no pain because I was not having periods, and that was incredible. I had a beautiful little boy, but I couldn't breastfeed afterward. Because of that, the periods came back quickly and were horrible again. At first, the endo pain was still gone. But five months postpartum, it was pretty clear that something was happening again.

I started having that light pink period that would start and stop, with bloating and nausea. I hadn't had the endo pain yet, but I saw the excision doctor and he did an ultrasound and pelvic exam. One of my ovaries was really tender but didn't have a cyst. With the exam and the ultrasound, he said he thought my endo had recurred, which he had told me before surgery was very unlikely. 

When it did recur, he said, "Sometimes it comes back, but I don't want to do another big, sweeping surgery on you unless your quality of life is terrible." He wanted my life to be horrible in order to treat me again, and even then, he said he would take only the "big pieces.” 

Obviously, I was not going back there after that. I asked for all of my records, and I was out of there. I got the notes from that appointment also. The notes didn't even mention the ultrasound he’d performed. They mentioned me seeing a doctor I had never seen. My records were completely wrong. I looked back through my notes of previous appointments, and they were all wrong. That's the best doctor here, and I can’t even get accurate records. I was just devastated. 

After that appointment, I began having the endo pain again, that sharp, barbed wire pain. It really quickly got worse. Before my first surgery, I had started keeping track of my bad pain days in order to figure out if it was in my head. How sad is that? I printed out blank calendar pages in 2019, and I would write an X on every day that I had the endo pain, and then I started to see a pattern.  I started doing that after the endo recurred this year too. At first, it was one day of pain, then a day without, then another day with pain. But a month in, I stopped doing it because there were 17 days in a row. I just realized "All right. It's every day." At this point, I feel the Xs just represent my life slipping away again. The excruciating back pain is back whenever I walk or do too much. 

The pain impacts every aspect of my life. My husband has to empty the dishwasher because bending over is a big trigger for me. If I bend over enough times to empty the lower rack, I know I can't take care of the baby later. I have to think about every single thing I do. I think through every time I bend, reach, walk. It was really nice to have a taste of not having that after my first surgery, even though my periods were horrible from my adenomyosis. 

Right now, with the endo back and my adenomyosis progressing, I have deep, tender pelvic pain when I sit, back pain when I walk, very severely painful vulvodynia, really bad nausea. I feel that barbed wire stabbing pain every time I eat now. I'm already eating only a few safe things again. Since the symptoms started, the weight's falling off again. The acne, brain fog, night sweats, nausea, and fatigue are back. The fatigue is crushing.  

I feel like so much of my life is managing my symptoms. I used to be fun. I used to not think about this. I had hobbies and was creative. I wrote and made art. I just had so much more mental space. Now it is all occupied by my illnesses. It’s so much to think about trying to function with the pain. On top of that, it is really hard for me to think about a hysterectomy. Before the endo recurred, we had been discussing trying for another baby because I know I need the hysterectomy for the adenomyosis, and I'd like to try for another baby first. But then the pain got worse and my calendar page filled with Xs. I just realized I probably need to have an endo surgery again, and this time with a specialist who will take better care of me. I’m planning on going to Atlanta for the next one. 

So that’s all of it. That’s the story.

I think I'm still undoing the damage of feeling like no one believed me. Before I had chronic pain, I once read about a woman who had it. I distinctly remember thinking, “I cannot imagine what that's like.” It truly didn't seem fathomable to me. I couldn't wrap my mind around having pain all the time, every day and every second. It helps me now to remember the moment that I read her story. Maybe those who struggle to believe it actually can't understand. It's a very hard thought for people to comprehend, especially something incurable like endometriosis. I think it’s uncomfortable because they can't fix it. I guess I understand how it can be hard to fathom, but I wish they would try. 

I had someone I know tell me to "try to just not think about it" when I described my adenomyosis period pain, that was so severe that it was a 7 out of 10 on oxycodone. He said to try not to think about it and it would go away. That's how uncomfortable people are with something they can't fix. They'd rather think it's in my head because, otherwise, they can't wrap their head around it.  When people can’t believe my pain now, I remind myself that it’s probably more about them than me.

Being in nurse practitioner school, we had one or two PowerPoint slides on endometriosis total, and the definition was wrong. It said that endometriosis is made of endometrial cells that are misplaced, but the science now shows that endometriosis is different than endometrial cells. That’s important, because that outdated belief is what perpetuates myths about ineffective treatments. I had a very receptive instructor because I talked to her about it and she actually recognized it was wrong and tried to learn more. She didn't fix it and correct it and tell everybody else though. This is a problem that goes very deep. I think the medical community just doesn't make us a priority and doesn’t take our pain seriously. I think it's a very deep-rooted, societal problem. But I’m grateful that I can tell my story. I'm really thankful it's going to be somewhere and that, hopefully, it makes somebody feel less alone.

I really want to try to be a practitioner myself so that I can be one person that's going to help the people that come to me. When you have chronic constipation, have been told you have IBS, and have period pain, I'm going to think about endometriosis. How many people with endometriosis have been told they have IBS? So many.  

I just wish people would listen to this community. When I say I feel like I have barbed wire wrapping around my abdominal organs every time I eat, I am not exaggerating. I think that after all these years, the fact that I can keep a straight face with this level of pain, probably makes it harder for people to believe. But that burden shouldn’t be on me to make people believe my pain. I don’t know how loud we’d have to shout anyway to be seen. “Look, world, we're in fucking pain, believe us.”

When I was in labor, I felt the contractions, and the first thing I said to my husband was, "This is what my period feels like." Now when I have my period and the uterine pressure is so intense, I tell my husband it feels like when the baby was crowning. If we all, as a society, universally believe that childbirth is this painful, why can't we believe our pain? And where's my epidural?

I know this should have been a big part of my story, but I've also had cervical cancer. It was an awful experience, and I went through a lot of treatment. I didn’t focus on it though, because I was listened to. Maybe this isn’t everyone’s experience, but I think people listen about cancer, so I don’t shout about it as loudly as I do endometriosis and adenomyosis. I had endometriosis and adenomyosis symptoms for two decades with no diagnosis. I hope that telling my story helps people to slow down and hold space for anyone around them with these illnesses. I hope it opens the eyes of healthcare providers to what is going on. I hope it encourages loved ones to learn about our diseases, the treatments, and our experiences. I think there can be a disconnect with endometriosis and adenomyosis sufferers and their communities. I think that's why we as a chronic illness community have come together online because you need somebody who knows what you're going through. It's very, very isolating as it is, but it's even more isolating when people don't try to understand you.

Christina

name

placental abruption

lichen sclerosus

vulval cancer

Endometritis

pudendal neuralgia

Müllerian duct anomaly

Nutcracker syndrome

Fibroma

MRKH syndrome

Interstitial Cystitis

perimenopause

Asherman's syndrome

amenorrhea

cervical cancer

post-ablation syndrome

undiagnosed

PMDD

uterine polyp

hydrosalpinx

Ovarian cancer

dysmenorrhea

cervical polyp

fibroids

menorrhagia

Endosalpingiosis

endometrial cancer

PCOS

diagnosis

labial resorption

clitoral phimosis

decreased clitoral sensation

tearing on insertion

swollen lymph nodes

white patches on labia

cuts and tears (vulva)

ulcers (vulva)

labia shrinkage

burning

Itching

chest pain

rectal bleeding

insomnia

weight loss

leg pain

joint pain

numbness

shoulder pain

shortness of breath

rectal pain

asymptomatic

fever

vomiting

moodiness

fatigue

ovulation pain

pressure sensitivity

anemia

headache

nausea

excess body/facial hair

pressure

diarrhea

bleeding or spotting between periods

bleeding after sex

bloating

painful urination

heavy bleeding

symptoms

Torrance Art Museum

USC Keck School of Medicine, 2023

Kaos Festival of Contemporary Collage, 2022

Endo Revolution video

Endo Violence Collective Magazyn #3

Images from Breaking This Silence

Art and med

Heading to Bordeaux

Keck School of Medicine Talk

Collective Memory

Curated by Girls

Kaos Festival

Portrait of the artist

Ever-Emerging Magazine

Painful menstruation has been a generational trauma passed down in my family. Almost every woman in my family has either had surgery on their uterus, like having a hysterectomy or a laparoscopy. Most recently, my sister had a fibroid removal surgery that ended her life. It shouldn't be something that ends your life. It shouldn't be something that spiraled my life so far out of control.

My period started when I was 13 years old, but it wasn't until I was 15 that I noticed that it was 

ainful. I remember one day, I had asked my mom to stay home from school because I just couldn't get out of bed. I was wrapped up in blankets and she left. She said, okay, because it was the first time

she came back home and I was in the same spot she left me, she was 

. She and my step-grandmother were just kind of laughing

, “If you can't handle this, how are you going to handle childbirth?” And I remember getting so angry

that I started cursing and was upset. I just remember thinking, “I have to deal with this like every month for years on end.” It only got worse. I went to the doctors and got Tylenol with codeine because my pain was so bad. By my senior year, I had missed, I think, like, close to 30 or 40 days of school in that one year because my commute was over an hour on the train, and it was just too exhausting to get to school sometimes. It was normalized for me because every woman in my family had to deal with pain and the expectation was to 

, I was rushing home from student teaching because I was so exhausted. I collap

my painful period never registered to me as a reason why I was so exhausted. 

I didn’t know then but I was disassociating from reality in order to continue going through life “normally” without acknowledging my body’s need for rest while I was bleeding heavily and battling menstrual pain.

When I started going to work after college, I had at least four incidents at four different jobs where I bled through my clothes. When I spoke to my mom she goes “Girl, you know you have to carry your change of clothes!”

I was blaming myself for not being prepared for extreme pain and heavy bleeding because that was just normal to me. I live in New York City, and taking the train was so hard. And by the time I started working, I was sitting on the train for so long and then having to stand for so long

 it added stress to my pelvis and uterus that I simply accepted.

I just planned my life around my periods. 

f I had an important meeting coming up, I would just pray my period would start on the weekend, so at least the first two days 

be painful at home, and then I could focus on work. But hose are your two days to get a break from work, and I was over here praying that my most painful experience happened then, so that I wouldn't miss work.

By the time I was in my early twenties, I was constantly taking ibuprofen. It was a crutch that I needed to survive. My PMS had started to come three to four days before my period. So now it wasn't just the week of my period. Now it was three to four days before I'm gonna have mild cramping, I'm going to be exhausted, and have migraines.

I got married, and I moved out of New York. I thought that would help lessen the stress 

. My mom and other women liked reminding me if I couldn't handle my cramps, I wouldn't be able to handle childbirth. So I was excited to get pregnant to have a child, but secretly I also wanted to know how bad childbirth was. In my family that was also a badge of honor to have birth without any pain meds, and I wanted to know 

In my first trimester in pregnancy, I was spotting and 

, and I was like, “Are you shitting me? This is the time I'm supposed to get a break.” The pain was so bad that my midwife sent me to the ER. I didn't think about it then as intergenerational trauma because I didn't understand epigenetics and how we can pass on stress hormones in utero. But when I wa

s getting the ultrasound to determine the cause of the bleeding, the 

ultrasound tech told me, “Hey, I'm not allowed to do this usually for emergency ultrasounds, but I need you to see the baby so you calm down.” I'm like, “I am calm.” She zoomed in and I saw my child curled into a ball on the screen and that was something that resonated with me. That's when I first started getting an awareness of how much stress impacted my body. She said, “Yes, the baby can feel your anxiety.” So I made a commitment. I decided to go all natural, to do yoga and monitor my stress to calm my body.

My last trimester was so painful that I couldn't work. My midwife would send me to the ER and 

, “Oh, it's just Braxton Hicks,” the false contractions

time she was technically safe to get out I was ready to get her out

, “No. This has to happen now. She's healthy, she's big enough, I have to get her out.” So I did everything suggested: I ate spic

 acupressure and acupuncture. And within 

 day, I went into labor. I remember driving to the midwife's house and timing my contractions. I 

kay, great, they're coming every five minutes

f my period was like this, it'd be so much easier because I could time it, and I'd know when it was coming

 every month with my period was significantly more painful and draining. Labor was

When I gave birth, I didn't even consider an epidural. It literally felt like my period. I had a fourth degree tear. I felt the pain externally, it was a different kind of pain. But for me, I 

’s startling that I silently dealt with that level of torture every month like it was nothing, so much so no one really knew the severity or impact on my overall physical and mental health.

 Pregnancy was the hardest part for me, because it went on for so long. 

I couldn’t relate to the stories I saw in the media of women yelling for epidurals. 

, I was committed to the breastfeeding journey, it was great for 

I’d get a break from my periods. My entire life 

 around my period pain or anticipating it. And so while I was breastfeeding, it was amazing. The first year I didn't even have my period. My daughter slept so well because I co-slept and it just felt like heaven.

I had gained a lot of weight. I was like 200 pounds by the time I gave birth and I'm only five two. I felt so self-conscious about my weight, but other than that, I was 

Breastfeeding hurt too, but it didn't matter. I had her 

beautiful chunky cheeks and baby smell to keep me going. 

I was fine. I was safe. I felt great because I didn't have my period.

And then after the first year, a woman who I went to the birth class with told me she got her period and I was like, “all right, it's gonna come.” Cause she gave birth like a week or two after me. I think it was another three or four months and then my period came back but my pain wasn't that bad. At the time another family member came to live with

us, and I remember noticing when she had her period, she didn't have pain. It never occurred to me that 

 “This is amazing.” I was buying into all of the really stupid myths about period pain, that after you have the baby, maybe that will get rid of it. So I thought that maybe this was it, that I wouldn’t have period pain anymore.

And then October 31st, 2021, Halloween, my period pain came raging back after 

. I got my kid dressed and I was so excited but I was so exhausted. That's when I noticed the pain again. But I recognize now too, that I had been so used to pain

the warning signs had started months before but I just 

believe so badly that my painful periods weren’t coming back. 

the pain again, I had enough notes to look back at the past pattern of my menstrual cycle.

I knew that this time felt drastically different. 