I’m Not Pregnant. It’s Just Menopause.

I’ve spent hours debating whether or not to share this.

Is it too personal?

Should it be kept private?

Will people judge me for it?

Fuck that.

First, some housekeeping. A disclaimer that this might be triggering for some. Also, a plea that this is not something I need fixed, solved, analyzed, or coddled.

I am in the care of a fantastic health professional and am taking the necessary steps to take care of myself through this…including, but not limited to counseling, hormone replacement, mindful eating, and plenty of rest.

So okay then, let’s dive in.

This post serves many purposes:

• It helps me own and honor something I find incredibly difficult.

• It allows me to take control of a situation that often feels completely out of my control.

• It acknowledges even more body image issues (for those who read Body Dysmorphia and Athletes last year, this discussion will be similar and also very different).

• And it might reach some ladies who are facing similar frustrations. And I truly hope it does.

Immediately upon turning 38, I was visited by the Menopause Fairy. In other words, I began to have several hard-to-ignore symptoms of perimenopause.

For those who don’t know, perimenopause is the phase when a woman’s body starts moving toward menopause. Not to be confused with menopause itself, which is when a woman’s period has stopped for an entire year.

Perimenopause has all kinds of fun symptoms…many aren’t well known to most, which is funny and frustrating considering that we women usually live long enough to experience this for up to 10 years in our lives.

Ten fucking years.

I was having all kinds of wonkiness during my period (unusual flow, number of days–up 9 days, etc.). And my period has been a consistent 3- to 5-day situation for years and years and years.

(Sorry dudes…permission to stop reading here, although it’s my very strong opinion that if you get to love us ladies, you need to know about our bodies too.)

I was getting monthly UTIs.

I gained ~35 pounds in mere months (normal weight gain/loss for me is 5-10 pounds max), most of which is in my belly.

Two friends have asked me if I’m pregnant. Not even joking.

If I didn’t have body dysmorphia before this, I definitely fucking have it now.

I was unreasonably and unexplainably tired.

I was having murderous mood swings unlike I had ever experienced before.

I was having incredible brain fog. I’m a person who can remember a hell of a lot, but not no more! Time to start writing things down, I guess. See ya later, mind!

I was having night sweats.

As I said, I was having un-ignorable symptoms…a long list of them.

These things were beyond frustrating all on their own, but perhaps the worst part was this statement:

“You couldn’t possibly be going into menopause–you’re too young.”

Said to me by three doctors, two of whom are women. Also said to me by many, many trusted female friends and family members.

I’m sorry, what? No. That’s just inexcusably wrong.

Not only did I not feel heard, I felt crazy.

Then, when I started looking into it and eventually found a medical practitioner who actually listened to me, late-30s is a pretty common age for perimenopause.

She confirmed that I am, in fact, going into menopause.

I remember going through a pretty heavy grieving phase after that.

For one, this is a massive physical change that affects everything in my body from head-to-toe.

For two, it confirms that I won’t be having children. I’ve had many, many conversations with myself about not wanting medical intervention in order to get pregnant and perimenopause as well as a fun, newly diagnosed autoimmune disease, Hashimoto’s, guarantees significant difficulty with getting pregnant naturally.

And last, I found myself to-the-bone angry about how difficult it was for me to be heard about my symptoms and to find any useful information about them.

Months and months of being told I was wrong.

I can’t even imagine the women out there who’ve been told they’re wrong for years and years.

Guys, there are approximately 3,904,727,342 women on this planet, roughly 49.58% of the population.

Why don’t we have information about perimenopause easily accessible?

Why?

Fucking why?

This change is significant. Learning that I’m experiencing “the change” felt like a baseball bat to the dome.

So why was it so hard for me to get answers? To be heard?

Many sources are blaming the patriarchy. I’m not willing to do that. I don’t even have the energy to blame anyone at this point, I just want this shit to get better for the rest of everyone else before and when they land in this spot.

And while I’m on my soap box, I have some bleeding-heart shit to add about body dysmorphia.

This weight gain has rocked my world. For my entire life, even with body dysmorphia, I’ve always identified as a skinny person.

So why the fuck do I feel so much shame around not being able to fit into my clothes anymore? What’s that about?

Why should I feel so much stress about looking pregnant at an upcoming work event that I felt compelled to spend $85 on Spanks to smash in this belly that people seem to confuse with an expanding fetus-growing-uterus inside my body?

I’m over it.

I’m proof we need to do better.

We need to do better about perimenopause and we need to do better about weight gain.

Last thing.

The picture I chose for this post.

This one.

I’m a person who has chosen not to have children and therefore, I won’t be posting pregnancy progress pictures on my social media.

I’m a person who has been mistaken as pregnant more than once.

I’m a person who decided to own it. All of it. And the picture is how I chose to do that.

And now, a love note to my body…

For better or for worse, body.

I appreciate all you’ve given me so far, including miles of exploring new and beautiful places, height to reach to top shelves at the grocery store, strength when I needed it the most, reminders to take better care of us, and 22 years of relatively normal reproductive health, which I didn’t truly appreciate until now.

Thank you. And we will get through this as friends, and not enemies.

Because I do love you.