Perimenopause and the Beginning of My Awakening (Part 1)
During the fall of 2015, I started having a taste of insomnia and hot flashes. At first I thought it was just exhaustion from sleep deprivation. I was raising a toddler and kindergartner and maybe the extension of summer’s heat drifted into my bedroom despite the ceiling fan and window a/c set to high. Then, the mood swings extended past my PMS cycles. I started looking at my husband and kids like thorns in my side for merely looking at me the “wrong way.” So, to ease my husband’s worry and my own panic, I called an OB/GYN and scheduled an appointment.
Now, let me pause and share a little history of my relationship with OBs. I had a great one I set as my primary doc pre-children. I actually looked forward to visiting her office because it looked like a spa: upscale art, earthy colors on the wall, flavored water, flat screen TVs before they were a common courtesy, and relaxing music softly playing in the background. Oh, and her staff? They felt like girlfriends. Then, I had a kid and moved to the mountains of Colorado. I worked with a midwife, had a homebirth, and found the best doc for our family in the area. And when I came to him and my midwife to ask about perimenopause potentially creeping into my peripheral, both suggested I visit one of the 3 OBs in town for some additional tests.
Hot flashes? Mood swings? Insomnia? These were all classic signs.
I went to Dr. P’s office a bit on edge. I didn’t know her well, but I knew she wasn’t a fan of the local midwife and most certainly not a fan of homebirths. And her office was nothing like the warm and inviting one I went to in Los Angeles. It was clinical, blindingly white, and despite the lack of competition of waiting patients in the lobby, was probably the slowest and least personable staff and techs I’d ever encountered. (And might I note, they were ALL women!). Dr. P listened to my concerns. Hot flashes? Mood swings? Insomnia? These were all classic signs. “We’ll do some blood work to test your hormone levels, but if you’re knee deep in premature menopause, might as well get an estrogen patch,” she advised.
Wait, an estrogen patch? Had she not ready my medical history? Or my family’s? I had a brain aneurysm as a teen and it was advised that I not take estrogen-based birth control OR HORMONES. My maternal grandmother had breast cancer. And didn’t she, Dr. P, the OB sitting across from me, have her own bout of breast cancer and chemo last year? It was a small town and the paper followed her struggle closely. I posed these questions to her in the calmest way I could, though I wanted nothing more than to dismiss her medical expertise and leave. Her response? “I’d rather risk getting breast cancer and use the patch than go through menopause…”
I gawked at her, speechless. I never went back to her office. Even after she called to report my hormone tests confirmed I was entering perimenopause.
My mother-in-law claimed she’d never had a lick of discomfort or stress during menopause, and I was left to wrestle with my state of inevitable change alone.
There I was, 34 and approaching a phase I thought for sure I had another 10 years to dodge. My husband wanted to talk about getting a vasectomy. A friend of ours was having trouble maintaining a pregnancy and had asked if I’d carry for her. The last of my grandmothers had passed after battling a 5-year-long mysterious respiratory disease. Everything was coming at me like a firing squad. Oh, and my mother-in-law claimed she’d never had a lick of discomfort or stress during menopause. I was left to wrestle with my state of inevitable change alone.
I called my girlfriends - the older ones who must’ve at least been able to relate. One totally got it. She had sporadic hot flashes and insomnia was something she’d been struggling with since her 20s. Another was almost 40 and having trouble getting pregnant due to her age. And my last seasoned lady friend didn’t have sleep issues or hot flashes, but the moodiness was something she could relate too.
With all my girlfriends there to listen and calm my nerves, I finally started to adjust to the new norm. I daily sipped specially blended teas and tinctures I’d made to combat some of the symptoms. And I watched as my periods started changing. Each month I’d get a couple of days of brown boggy clumps of old blood, then nothing. Not even a spot for a week. Then, as if Aunt Flo needed a grand entrance, I’d have 3-4 days of heavy bleeding.
things were going great. i started to feel good about this new phase of my life.
Less than a year passed. I planned to surprise my husband for our anniversary. I was going to grant his wish to support his desire to get a vasectomy. Our friend magically got pregnant and was able to carry her firstborn full term. I took a much-needed vacation to Vietnam where I spoiled myself with massages and good food and visiting with ex-pat friends and family. And I even started working on a new musical endeavor; it had been nearly a decade since the last time I was in a studio and this time I got to work with some old college friends as a bonus. Things were going great. I started to feel good about this new phase of my life. Until, I got some other life-changing news. Another unplanned perimenopausal surprise rocked my – and my family’s - world:
I was pregnant…
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Photo by Sydnie Larson