I miss them.
My favorite part is the noise that one chicken makes when it jumps down from the pipe.
It sounds like she’s saying “Hop!” XD
THIS WAS WAY MORE SATISFYING THAN I EXPECTED IT TO BE
Not gonna lie, I say there wiggling my finger for like 10 mins
Can’t stop laughing. This is magic.
I guess I should preface this by saying that I have not yet been to a doctor. But I’m freaking out. Not necessarily in a hypochondriac sort of way, but in a relatively-educated-but-anxious-person-who-has-a-tendency-to-always-jump-to-the-worst-conclusion-before-it’s-proven way.
Let’s get real. I started my period when I was 10. Since the beginning my menstrual cycle has been textbook - 28 day cycles, bleeding lasts 5-7 days. Though, I have suffered through debilitating cramps and horridly ridiculous mood swings, I could always count on this about myself. I was “regular”.
Until 2014 started. I skipped my first period in January.
Granted, since December I’ve been dealing with an unusually heavy load of stress in my private life as well as at work. I blamed this for my missed period (scientifically impossible for me to be pregnant now as the last time I engaged in sexual intercourse was roughly a year previous to my skipped period).
My period came back per usual in February. I pushed my ill thoughts aside and decided all must be well. A fluke. My body had repaired itself.
Well, it’s March now, and high time that my period should have returned to haunt me once again. Alas, this is not so. I’m not but a few days late, but I’m freaking out because my most-reliable uterus has failed once again to produce.
Also of consequence: my maternal grandmother and her oldest daughter died of cervical and ovarian cancers. The other 4 daughters in the family had hysterectomies in their 20s (due to their insides being torn apart by all the babies they started making around 16yrs). All the granddaughters (my generation, potentially 15 girls in all), aside from myself, have suffered from painful ovarian cysts, miscarriages, irregular periods, etc.
My conclusion: I have a broken ovary. A broken ovary can mean a number of things: cancer, cysts, birth defect, toxicosis, being barren. So, obviously, in my mind, I am barren.
The last 4 years or so I’d given up on having children. I decided they’d be too much for me given that I retain an absurdly high level of anxiety at any given time. I also think children are the most beautiful creatures on the planet and would be crying in ecstasy and joy and fear and resentment for their entire lifetimes. I would be a nervous wreck of a parent.
This thought of not having children was never of any consequence as I have always been attracted to men much older than I am. I have memories, from as early as the age of 6 or 7, of thinking Kevin Costner or the guy who led my church’s worship team were sexy. Thusly, not bearing children fell into my fantasy of marrying an older man as they would then not be pressured into providing a child for me, which would only make them suffer through being a new father again in their 50s or 60s.
However, being faced with a potentially malfunctioning ovary and the reality of what being barren is, I am beside myself with grief.
I wish I could understand my own brain and reactions. It might make this easier to deal with. I realize that I should wait a few more days, then go see a doctor before providing myself with a diagnosis. But I’ve already done it, and now I’m so sad about the children I will never have, it’s unreal.
do you ever wish you could just stop time for like a couple weeks so you could just sleep and do whatever you want and just get your shit together and then after that time would just start back up again and you wouldn’t have missed anything because you would just pick up where you left off