Witch Hunt

It's strange to say aloud but I haven't had a period since October 30, 2007.

That's right. Two thousand SEVEN. SEVENTEEN months ago. Almost EIGHT AND A HALF months postpartum and the witch is still M.I.A.

Before I allow you to get ahead of yourselves, I am not - I repeat - NOT pregnant. To achieve pregnancy, there are several prerequisites. Primarily ovulation and intercourse. And since these key players are noticeably absent from the marquee, chances are slim that anything short of immaculate conception or post-hysterectomy amnesia would account for her hiatus. So please refrain from testing chants and sweep away any babydust that may have crept away from the magical fairyland. I can only attribute this respite to a certain little person attached to my boob every 2-3 hours.

Don't get me wrong. Absence has not made my heart grow fonder. It's been nice to have this extended vacation from her hijinks. I can wear white blazenly. No mental inventory of pads or tampons. No leaks or gushes to make me squirm. Or changing bedsheets in the morning due to embarrasing accidents. No fumbling through my medicine cabinet for Midol. There have been some stellar advantages to our much-needed break.

As much as I'd like to say good riddance forever, I am a bit codependent on my Auntie. I need her to reappear eventually if I'm ever going to give Nate a sibling. No, we're not TTC #2 right away. Right now, it's just a prospect on the horizon. We are in no rush whatsoever, although the baby bug has nipped at me now and again. I mean, our firstborn is nowhere close to STTN and I'd have to be batshit crazy to double up when I'm already struggling. I could see us now - sharing our bed with a toddler and a newborn. We'd need to trade up our Queen for a California King just to get through the night. It's exhausting just to think about it. Besides, I'd like to give Nate a bit more time as our one and only. Spoil him as much as possible before he needs to share his belongings, personal space and parental attention.

And truth be told, I also question how my cycles will behave once she returns. Will I remain oligoovulatory or could childbirth have rebooted my system? If curiosity killed the cat, I'll be one crispy kitty.

I wonder when she'll arrive. I'm sure it will be at some inopportune moment. Like when I'm wearing my favorite panties. And I'm sure as soon as she turns up, I'll be wishing her farewell again.

Aunt Flo...can't live with her. Can't live without her.