By Maryam Oguntola

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Dismissing missed periods became a habit, until fear, not maturity, forced me to listen to my body’s silent cries.

Being a woman is not a straightforward path—it’s a lifelong journey that involves a multitude of ups and downs, constant learning, and the process of unlearning. One valuable lesson I have learned in my 22 years is that certain experiences, particularly the unexpected, confusing, and troubling, do not diminish my womanhood; instead, they define it.

I vividly remember the day I got my first period—on my thirteenth birthday. The excruciating pain in my abdomen made me feel like death was imminent. Reluctantly getting out of bed, my mom noticed the stain on my sheets, marking the beginning of my “adult” life. She guided me through using pads, performing ghusl (a post-menstruation Islamic purification), and advised me to cut down on sweets due to their exacerbating effects. Even though this welcoming of womanhood connected my mother and I in a new way, and gave me a new sense of solidarity with all adult women,, I despised my period and its accompanying pain.

Another pivotal moment occurred during my sophomore year of high school. Experiencing the temporary absence of my period, I panicked and feared pregnancy (an utterly unfounded fear!). After a month of no bleeding, I confided in my friends. We made light of the situation by referencing the Virgin Mary’s story. Coincidentally, I happened to be named after her. A friend suggested seeing a gynecologist, but I dismissed the idea, as I wasn’t sexually active. The following month, my period returned, and I brushed off the incident.

However, over the next several years, as I continued my journey into young adulthood, what I thought would be a one-time occurrence turned into a pattern of irregular periods. I strongly disliked the term “irregular,” as the word made me feel abnormal. Despite the regularity of missed periods, I hesitated to discuss it with my doctor and mom because having conversations regarding specific topics was not deeply encouraged in my family, and I was embarrassed to admit to such a personal problem. When I finally did, my mother and doctor assured me it was customary for young girls and would resolve as I grew older.

Growing up, I dismissed any potential significance of this aspect of my body’s natural rhythm, attributing missed periods to stress whenever the thought crossed my mind. However, at age 21, it became clear that I couldn’t avoid this topic any longer. After nearly a year without a period, I was forced to consider the fact that something was not going right with my body. I also started having fears about what ramifications this medical issue I had, for so long, brushed off could potentially have on the rest of my life, especially the possibility of having children. 

Now a proper adult, I decided to take proper adult action, which led me to three gynecologists. I had to see three gynecologists because the New York healthcare system does not allow me to continue with the same specialist. The first suggested hormone pills, progesterone, which I stopped taking due to their effects on my body. The second diagnosed me with amenorrhea and scheduled me for a radiology appointment.

I was unfamiliar with amenorrhea, but a quick search revealed it signifies the “absence of periods,” diagnosed when one doesn’t have their first period by age 15 or experiences a three-month absence. Stress emerged as a potential factor from my search results. Despite the discomfort, a radiology appointment showed normal results. However, a subsequent visit with another gynecologist revealed small cysts, suggesting a possible cause: Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). Given my symptoms, this doctor also prescribed progesterone, which I committed to taking this time.

Through my research, I have discovered that Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) stands out as the most prevalent hormonal disorder among women of reproductive age, with links to both genetic and environmental factors. The array of symptoms associated with PCOS includes excessive weight gain, abnormal hair growth, acne, and a potential impact on mental health. Notably, PCOS has also been correlated with insulin resistance, potentially leading to Type 2 Diabetes. While the precise root causes of PCOS remain elusive, a common factor identified in the majority of affected women is Androgen excess, an imbalance in male hormones. Moreover, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, PCOS is recognized as the leading cause of infertility, affecting around 5 million women in the United States alone.

As I continue to navigate PCOS, I have learned to deconstruct the idealized image of womanhood. I have also come to know that womanhood is filled with diverse experiences. PCOS is part of mine, and many others, but like all challenges, it is also a source of learning, acceptance, and positive growth.  I’m now taking control of my health and reclaiming my narrative through mindful eating, positive affirmations, and open communication with my doctor. To every woman facing similar challenges, know that you’re not alone. Remember, your body is yours, you are your best advocate, and your journey is yours to own. 

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Do not read this book, unless you want to know what real humans are thinking. Taking poetic license to express things in ways that make AI fear it will be replaced by humans, the stories in these pages reflect the here and now: a collective urgency as the pandemic recedes, the world overheats, wars overwhelm, and the national discourse is conducted in a language far from love. In these pieces, cooking unites families, supermarkets become places of connection and adventure, neighbors evolve into mermaids as the sea levels rise, and every month nails are trimmed to cut down memory. The smallest gifts in life become impossible blessings of gratitude. There is a sense of battle with the norms and an understanding that things are not right, but they will be. This anthology is evidence of a future worth fighting for in which the long tradition of building community through the written word is upheld during the highs, lows, and everything in between.

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Process

I began drafting this essay upon scheduling a radiology appointment, driven by apprehension about what the results might reveal. The diagnosis of PCOS prompted me to delve into research and seek support from women who shared similar experiences, motivating me to continue sharing my journey with PCOS. Crafting this narrative was a deeply personal endeavor, and it took considerable time to complete. However, the knowledge that other women faced similar challenges, along with the opportunity to contribute to the collective narrative of womanhood, served as sources of inspiration. I am grateful for the invaluable support and guidance of my mentor, Tess, whose assistance was instrumental in bringing this essay to fruition and encouraging me to share it with others.