You see, I was a late bloomer back in high school. I was probably one of the last, if not the last girl to bleed. I was tiny, with practically absent boobs. The only thing I had going for me was my brains and my mouth. Yes! Both were very sharp.
So in Uni, I just decided I was not going to carry last. I had to win at everything and that was all that mattered.
I joined all the committees, made friends with seniors, attended dinners, wore the skimpiest clothes, had flings, contested in elections, started a business. I was basically in overdrive. With every single opportunity that came and piqued my interest, I would basically find a way to put myself in the middle of things.
One thing I never gave a second thought amidst all my hustling was how it was going to impact my over-all health.
Tiny as I was, I had very high metabolism and I didn’t even know that it was a thing. In my mind, I was eating well, resting enough, sleeping enough, but my body was saying something else and I wasn’t paying attention.
My family actually has a history of irregular periods but I didn’t think that mine was anything to worry about until I hit my twenties and discovered I could go a year and not even remember if I had actually bled in one month or the other.
I blamed it on school stress for years, until I graduated, spent a full year at home and realised I didn’t have a full blown period the entire year.
Now, periods are not things a lot of women get excited about. I mean, what upside could there possibly be to bleeding, cramps, cravings and raging hormones for days. But the irony is, when you are an African woman in your twenties, and you have absent periods, you begin to question your womanhood in its entirety. You begin to question your ability to ovulate, conceive, carry a foetus to term and actually deliver.
All my life, I have lived and still live with the fear of not achieving everything I set out to achieve in life but I never thought I would have to live with the fear of “infertility” at the back of my mind.
Although I haven’t been fully diagnosed yet (yes, I stopped my hospital rounds for fear of wrong diagnosis), I do not know the full implications of my amenorrhea. I learnt it could be corrected with a proper and consistent diet, which I am trying to achieve.
I have always known I want to bear children. I know the kind of stigma that comes with being barren particularly in this part of the world. Sharing this alone is putting myself in a vulnerable position to begin with. But I remember how Gabrielle Union shared her story and her journey and I’m reminded that there’s a community of women out there going through similar stuff but are too scared to share.
Please speak up and seek help.
Please share your experiences and battles on this issue. I’d love to know that I’m not alone. You can also engage safe space’s discussions on twitter and instagram via this link: https://www.instagram.com/twentieslive/
