i want to write about the thing that has been impossible to write about. the thing that’s had me testing different formats and trying new topics because talking about what’s actually going on has been way too raw.
getting my IUD out was easy this time, a celebration with my son and husband holding my hand, but reorienting around the tidal wave of hormones that had been conveniently blocked is, simply put, a bit crazy-making.
i hadn’t adequately considered my hormones in all of this. i knew that i was being spared the cramps, bleeding, and PMS, but i didn’t realize the rest of it. the way it would feel to experience the waves of my cycle course through me after years without it. i read all fours, i know that perimenopause can feel like a bit of psychosis, but our thirties are more intense too?
here i was just worrying about getting pregnant again.
on the worst days it feels like my whole world is ending. it could be an outfit choice or a breakout, something as cataclysmic as only a thirteen year old girl1 would understand. suddenly everyone is out to get me, i’m convinced that all of my actually friends hate me, and my god do i look fat in that top.
there are few thoughts in my mind that aren’t paranoid and determined to sabotage the double digit years of therapy i’ve spent working them into submission. a dark cloud looms heavy above my head and i feel the compulsion to pick a fight with my husband, slam the door in his face.
but i don’t.
it’s not nearly as satisfying as when i used to do this with my mother. storming off just doesn’t hit the same when i share a room with the man, when we depend on each other to parent our child. i don’t actually want to fight with him, i just need space to unleash my demons. gone are the days when i could yell at my mom and leave a mess at the dinner table.2
my son begins to screech at my side. i watch as his whole body tenses in frustration and a cry erupts from somewhere deep inside his tiny belly. a guttural roar scratches the back of his throat making him hoarse. face red, cheeks wet, i can practically see the heat steaming from his head.
and i feel a sort of kinship.
i get it, bud. i don’t know why the prospect of bath time is causing you this much agony, but man, do i know the feeling.
we are two teenagers trapped in the wrong-aged bodies. big feelings are all that we know and we’re desperate to hit the relief valve on the pressure-cooker that is our own skin. it’s claustrophobic to be faced with the ugliest parts of yourself so often.
my tears come easily. temper, lost. insecurity envelops me like a persistent waft of department store perfume. two months into regaining my cycle and the relief of my period is inconsistent. i can’t depend on any days of clarity, the best i can do is to seize the moments as they come.
i am as tired as a pregnant woman, but there is no baby. there is no child sucking all of the energy from inside my body, just hormones wreaking havoc on my sanity. i’m trying to get back to the part where i have the opportunity to be baby-growing exhausted again.
maybe my hormones were this awful the first time i got my IUD removed?
our whole world had already collapsed that year. the year that my husband lost his sister.
three months later, the only reason i went through with the IUD removal was because i’d scheduled it six months after our wedding.
Ashley and i had already begun calling each other sister at that point, we insisted on removing “in-law” when we talked about each other, we were so excited to make it official. i’m glad we did that before i married her eldest brother. the last time we spoke was after our wedding on my thirty second birthday, two days later she was gone.
making a baby was the last thing on my mind that spring, but the appointment was on the calendar and it felt important to go through with it.
i got pregnant after my first period and it felt like the tides were shifting, like i could carry the light of our family inside my belly and chart us into a future of joy. after months of darkness we had hope. and then the lights went out and i was sitting in the waiting room of the ER at mass general with my husband and his parents, my brand new set of second parents, waiting to see if my lost pregnancy was actually trying to kill me.
it was not ectopic, but the doctors thought it was.
the months that followed grew even darker than before and i dropped away from my friends. it was easy enough, temporarily living close to dan’s family. it made sense that i wasn’t speaking much when we’d just lost our sister and i was trying to figure out how to support my husband in our first year of marriage.
but now i wonder if my hormones acted as gasoline to my grief. it’s impossible to know, but one could imagine that i was dealing with all of the hormonal imbalances that i am today plus losing my sister and my first pregnancy.
now that the grief of those losses are smaller parts of me, i can feel the effect of life without an IUD much more intensely. i don’t know if this is the norm, but the more that i talk about my hormones, the more i realize that i am not the only one struggling to make sense of them.
this summer was always meant to be the time that i reconnected with my body, i just didn’t realize how confrontational that would be.
it’s stirring up all of the teenage angst and despair that i thought i left behind. imaginary problems crop up like weeds and none of it really makes sense beyond a shrug and “it’s probably hormones.”
but then there’s the fun part.
my husband walks past and i eye him up like a piece of meat. he scoops up our child and i swear he looks just like the lead singer of my favorite band. he wipes down the counters at the end of the day and suddenly i’m weak in the knees.
the older we get, the more irresistible he becomes.
the boy who exclusively wore free startup tees and was too busy to go to the gym or care about nutrition has become a man who shops vintage with the fellas, trains as hard as i do, and cooks healthy meals.
i love his salt and pepper curls and the fact that i haven’t had to kiss a beard in years. the emotional capacity of my husband is lightyears greater than that of the boy i kissed at a dive bar nearly ten years ago.
we’re more relaxed despite having our sleep interrupted several times a night these days and, well, this is the part we skipped last time.
i got pregnant so fast and miscarried even faster. our plan to “have a fun summer and see what happens!” was quashed before it even began. sex became utilitarian. timed. scientific.
eventually i stopped feeling pleasure altogether because i didn’t want it, i was too depressed and too frustrated with my body to care. it took a very long time before i was able to get back in touch with that part of myself, let alone connect with my partner.
this time around we’ve planned things a little differently, slowed everything down.
there are no more travel plans until september and we are committed to a summer of safe sex fun. i don’t think either of us realized what an effect my hormones would have on my googly eyes, but WOW what a welcomed surprise.
readjusting to my hormones is mostly hell, but this part of it is, dare i say, healing.
when i started writing mother curious i was working through so much grief. trying to conceive while mourning is awful. not being able to connect with your body is disorienting. i think that the more we talk about how common miscarrying actually is it might help ease the shame and pull towards isolation that many of us feel. i know it would have helped me.
i want another baby with every fiber of my being. dan and i talk to our son about having a little brother or sister one day to share in our excitement with him. we are so ready to grow our family and.
and i begged dan to help me preserve this summer for us. before i was ready to have another baby i asked him to help ground me if i became ready to start trying before summer. (turns out i wanted to get knocked up in april)
because i remember how hard it was last time. how quickly it became all-consuming and flat.
this time i’m reconnecting with my fertility, my joy, and my partner first. i feel like i’m swimming in the goddamn bermuda triangle of hormones, but i am both hopeful that they’ll start to even out and confident that i’ll find proper support soon.
i’m rewiring the part of myself that says making a baby is a tragic mystery. instead i’m remembering that i know the mechanics now and it could still take a long time, but it’s okay if we give ourselves a few months before trying. i’m getting to know my cycle even if it’s driving me damn near to madness. and i’m laser-focused on what is right in front of me.
my family, this summer, in rhode island.
there is truly nothing to do, nowhere to be. we’ve worked so fucking hard to get to this point in our lives where we have a summer to simply enjoy. so, hormones and all, that is what i’ve set out to do.
my top three recommended reads of the week featuring mothers getting curious about what it looks like to challenge the status quo.
Oset Babür-Winter getting curious about how and why to extend a night out with good company. this is the stuff i geek out about. how we gather, why it matters, and the etiquette behind it all. what makes prioritizing life beyond our kids essential and so much fun. Oset may not explicitly mention that she’s a new york mom, and that’s one of the many things that i love about her. if you love food, new york city, and great writing then i insist you check out one of the newest faces on substack and a fabulous real life friend of mine at Service Continu.
Melissa Callendar getting curious about the birth of a mother, what happens when you leave the hospital, and the myth of mother instincts. i love the way that Mel reflects on what it feels like to contend with the realities of becoming a mother. there is no magical transformation that grants you all of the wisdom that you need. you’re not suddenly a perfect role model for a young child. and hey, a little empathy for our parents who were probably just as confused as we were. when i’m crashing out about some next stage in parenthood or just need a friend to laugh with about the ludicrous things my child says and does, Mel is there to offer sage advice and bring me back to earth. Lessons In Patience is poetic, potent and grounded in her work as a doula and yoga teacher and i love her so!
Tricia Torley getting curious about how we show up for our friends throughout the ages, and what to wear when we do. this article hit me at a particularly poignant time when i was not sure if i was going to make it to my own best friend’s bachelorette. she said, “I think it’s important to show up for your people. I also have a firm belief that the bride having a great time is the number one priority at a bachelorette party,3 so the only thing you really need to pack is a good attitude.” and i could not agree more. i sleep a little easier knowing that Tricia is providing this type of guidance to the youths! Tricia is one of those people who i felt instant kinship with, whose comments stuck with me well beyond reading them and whose writing i look forward to every weekend. if you’re not reading Immensely Dramatic yet, get to it!!
TLDR: visibility. for those who want to support what it takes to grow a writer, paid is for you!
discoverability: substack is a business and paid subscriptions are prioritized above unpaid. paid subscriptions are also eligible for the "rising” lists which increase visibility. as i begin to share more works of other writers, i want to make sure that i’m doing what i can to get eyes on all of our writing.
accessibility matters: the pregnancy loss posts will always be free. i am most passionate about ensuring access to these. motherhood can be lonely, but the path to parenthood, even moreso.
this is my work: i am a writer and substack is so much more than a “free little blog” to me. as i continue to build my craft this is the natural next step.
i don’t have a product to sell you. i’m not going to teach you how to optimize substack or perfect your parenting. i’m just sharing stories to help you feel less alone as a parent, a friend of a parent, or someone considering parenthood maybe one day.
while i have begun to work with a few brands to share items that i think you’ll like, your paid subscription is ultimately The Thing supporting my writing process. this fall i have the opportunity to really dig into writing my novel and your financial support shows the kinda buy-in that publishers will one day be looking for.
WE’RE IN THIS TOGETHER
transparently, i have no idea what the heck i’m doing. substack subscriptions have never made a ton of sense to me, but i’m trying to get on board here. i want to know what matters to you, where you see value, and what you want more of from mother curious.
for now i’m keeping the paywalls lifted and i promise that i’ll always be overly communicative as i make any changes and get a better understanding of the payment structures that make the most sense for mother curious subscribers.
in the meantime,
for those of you who have been here from the beginning, those who like a random note, and those who have just joined, mother curious doesn’t exist without you! i am so so grateful for every single like, share, comment (public and private), subscription, and referral and i cannot wait to see what this next chapter has in store!
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like this article (every engagement makes an impact!)
comment below, i love to hear your thoughts!
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because parenthood isn’t linear
this is a living table of contents that is updated as mother curious posts go live. MC was never meant to be digested in a linear fashion, choose what you’re looking for based on the topics below!
CONNECT: thank you so much for being here! i hope you enjoyed reading mother curious today. i’d love to hear from you! say hi to me on instagram, watch me try to figure out tiktok, or leave a comment on substack. the best part about substack is the conversations and connections we build together and i look forward to getting to know you too.
“girl” is a term used a lot throughout this piece to talk about my lived experience. of course these experiences are not limited to or prescriptive of those who consider themselves “girls.”
she has lovingly reminded me that i can call to yell at her anytime… but it just doesn’t hit the same!!
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