It was bound to happen…
I had three daughters, so in retrospect I should have been prepared for this day. But when my first daughter doesn’t have a uterus and my second one was so headstrong she dealt with everything on her own by the time she was talking, my twelve year old crying to me that she found blood in her underwear came as a bit of a shock. I took a second to sit down which, of course, only made her freak out all the more, afraid that I was shocked that my youngest child was bleeding out and dying. I sat her down and tried to explain the best I could, but serious conversations about uncomfortable things that did not pertain to my own anatomy were not my strong suit.
“You’re not dying, your body is just changing,” I started, already embarrassed. “It’s starting to mature so you’re growing up. Physically, anyway.” She frowned, pouting at her ruined underwear. I groaned internally as I realized I was going to have to be the one to clean them.
“If growing up means I bleed all the time, then I don’t want to be a grown up. I would shrivel up from blood loss.” I laughed and ruffled her hair. Grabbing my keys, I told her to get in the car.
“If this is what is going to be happening, then we need to stock up on supplies.”
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