Sharing with the Class

Boob squishing, full diaper smells, and primal screams

There’s a weird phenomenon with women. We have an array of shared experiences that we mostly don’t share. This leads to a lot of feelings of isolation, confusion, and unnecessary fear. When I was pregnant with my daughter, a man told me about the mucus plug. Not a doctor, not a friend or family member, no, just a random man sharing information not a single female person in my life felt compelled to articulate. This is a recurring theme. Much of pregnancy and early motherhood was an endless bumping around in the dark with a stack of (sort of) helpful parenting books and a lot of trial and error. It was hard. It was lonely. It did a lot of crying.

Babies are exhausting.

Why don’t women tell each other this? Why do we pretend it’s all new baby smells and cuddles? Why don’t we admit it’s also full diaper smells and primal screams? Babies are adorable assholes. Thankfully they grow out of that.

Well, most of them do.

You’d think women would share more now with the constant connectivity of the internet, and I think we do to a certain degree. We still keep most of this shit to ourselves. We just stick out our chins and slap a smile on our faces and pretend it’s sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows.

Squee.

Last week I had my annual squishing of the mammary glands. No one ever explained to me what a mammogram entailed or what might happen afterwards. I discovered the joys of having my dense breasts smashed flat as a pancake all on my own many years ago. I have twice had a call back after the initial mammogram. I was fine both times, but it was scary. I found out there was an area of concern (developing asymmetry) last Friday afternoon and had to wait all weekend spinning out with Doctor Google to have a follow up appointment scheduled. The area is just a small cluster of squishy cysts, and they are benign. I also discovered that my dense breasts are no longer dense. Wait, what? Apparently this happens as we age. I’m aging, disgracefully, and, it appears, falling apart on schedule.

Women don’t talk about this shit because we’re enculturated to endure. Suck it up, Buttercup. Just keep that shit to yourself. Other women are going to have to figure it out. That’s the way it is.

I think that’s a diaper full of smells.

We’re in this thing together and the more we share with each other, the easier it will be for all of us to navigate the challenges of having (or not having) a uterus and mammary glands and surging or waning hormones. Sure, it’s scary and weird and sometimes gross, but it’s life in all of its chaotic, messy, marvelous complexity.

I’m going to say the quiet things out loud. That’s the kind of riveting content you can expect to find around this Substack. Politics, musings, mucus plugs, and boob squishing! Huzzah!

Stay tuned for the next installment, I have absolutely no idea what I’ll be sharing. We’ll find out together.

xoxo,

Madge