I'm 29 years old and I started my period for the fourth time. Yes, there were roughly 180 other times, but I'll save those for my book to be released in 2053.
The first time, I was 13, it was June, and I was embarrassed. I knew exactly what was happening, but I didn't want it to. I wasn't one of those girls that thought that bleeding every month was some sort of blessing or special ushering into teenagehood. I wanted to stay young. I knew, even then, that growing up was not going to be easy and that being an adult looked like a pain in the ass.
The second time, I was 29, it was December, and I believe it was a miscarriage.
The third time, I was 29, it was January.
The fourth time, I was 29, it was February, and it's today.
We're trying to conceive our first child. And the truth is, it's harder then I'd ever imagined.
_ _ _ _ _ _
On a June afternoon in 1986, my dad ushered me into the well-lit lobby so he could get a video interview with the brand new graduate of Calvary Baptist's preschool. I was wearing my white poofy dress with embroidered flowers on the edges, and a pink sash. My bowl cut was bouncing with the tapping of my feet and my shiny white mary janes were scuffed with black streaks, possibly the result of my having them on the wrong feet. Earlier in the video there are scenes showing an ever squirming swarm of children in paper caps, a class performance of "I Am a Promise", and a slide show set to Whitney Houston's "The Greatest Love of All."
I've watched this video countless times, and while some call me narcissistic for doing so, I'll never stop coming back to it. After all, I don't remember it. I don't remember being me at 4 years old. It makes me sad to think about all of the years of my life that I don't remember. Maybe it's designed that way on purpose, so our stumblings through the beginnings of being a human don't consciously scar us forever. I still watch this video, if only to watch the section in the slide show where they show a picture of each of us with an audio recording saying our name, our age, and what we wanted to be when we grew up.
"Hi, my name is Co[we]nna, and when grow up I wanna be a ball(uhwe)na and a mommy."
I never did become a ballerina, but I still have that last dream left, something I have proof of always wanting: to be a mommy.
