My Exploding Uterus: A Love Story

by Marie Donna Davis

There are so many exciting firsts in a real adult relationship. First kiss. First text. Your first actual IRL conversation. First date. First uterine explosion.

I remember the time my uterus first exploded around a guy I really liked.

Before I get into that whole thing, let me just give you a little background about my period. It just makes sense that we discuss those particulars before we get into the actual event of my uterus exploding. My periods are heavy.

When I say heavy, I mean like a new super duper absorbent tampon must be inserted every two hours heavy. Like super absorbent tampon + maximum absorbent maxi pad in case of spill over when I miss that two hour change over mark = total coverage heavy. Going to the pool is absolutely out of the question, but the ocean is OK because the murky color of ocean water serves as a convenient camouflage in case of spillage heavy. My laundry guy probably hates me heavy. Carrie on prom night five minutes after a chainsaw massacre heavy. Like, I am actually anemic because of the amount of blood loss I face once a month heavy, so that means I take iron supplements all because of my period heavy. Like, y’all don’t understand. My period is so heavy, I once took a Buzzfeed quiz called, “How Metal Is Your Period?” and the result I got was, “Your Period is Satan’s Death Metal.” Complete with a GIF of cartoon Satan pouring buckets of blood into a river of blood with a guitar in the background.

But back to the story at hand, one day I was walking on 72nd street and Broadway. I was on my way to Trader Joe’s with a guy I really, really liked. We were at the four month mark in our courtship. Apparently that’s what you do when you’re in the early stages of your relationship, you hit up a Trader Joe’s/Fairway, or whatever, together and stare at each other all googly-eyed while picking out avocados. Anyway, we had just hopped off the 2 train and we were standing at the intersection right in front of Grey’s Papaya. We were briefly discussing the possibility of hitting up a semi-nearby thrift store (he’s really into thrift stores) when BAM! A pint of blood decided to make its acquaintance on an otherwise balmy early summer day. I literally froze. It was two weeks early.

“What’s wrong?” The Guy asked.
“Um, I just got my period.” I mumbled, totally mortified, for I was still trying to be the effortlessly awesome cool girl with no worries.
“Okay…” he responded uncertain of what to do next.

But before I could laugh it off in some breezy ain’t I quirky sort of way, SPLOOSH! Another liter of blood arrived. All. Down. My. Fucking. Leg. (I was wearing shorts.) And that is what I mean by a uterine explosion. When your period comes so hard and so fast and so heavy you briefly wonder if this is the day your uterus has had enough of this shit and decided to self-destruct in an attempt to start over and regenerate itself anew.

“Uhh…” I said, as the front of my shorts were now soaked in blood and a dark clumpy viscous trail was straight chilling AF on my leg in broad daylight in the middle of New York effing City in front of The Guy I really, really liked.

The Guy noticed the trail of blood, smiled, blushed a little bit and said, “OK, let’s get you to a drugstore. It’s OK, don’t worry.”

“Ummm…” was my actual response, but inside my head was a barrage of expletives as he grabbed my hand while we ran across the street into the Duane Reade. I made a beeline up the escalator, grabbed the aforementioned super duper absorbent tampons, paid for them and found the first female employee I could find and nearing tears explained to her that I was having a severe female emergency and that I really needed to use their bathroom.

She smiled at me with the compassion of 1000 saints and showed me the way. Once inside, I threw away my underwear (wrapped it in wads of paper towels first, out of consideration), gave myself a mini bath from the sink, rinsed out my shorts, (thank god they were navy) and frantically put in a tampon. I took several deep breaths and sheepishly left the bathroom.

I mean, is there a graceful way to recover from your uterus dumping itself on 72nd street?

The Guy was by the magazine stand casually flipping through an US Weekly. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, he came over, gave me a big hug, a kiss on the forehead, stroked my hair and said, “Are you OK, baby?”

“I am so embarrassed…” I mumbled. He hugged me once more.

“Aww, shit girl. Nothing to be embarrassed about. That’s nature. You’re a woman. It happens. Let’s get you home, we’ll order something and I’ll make you some tea.”

He would later tell me that that wound up being one of his favorite memories of our early relationship, because it was the first time he saw me super vulnerable and he was able to be there for me. Which, in turn, made me realize that just when you think being the effortlessly cool girl is the way to go, your uterus will explode and force you to be a real human being instead.

Oh, and The Guy I really, really liked turned into the guy I really love and we just celebrated our first wedding anniversary in October.

So, thank you, uterus. For being you in all your Satanic Death Metal glory. And reminding me, that life is unpredictable and seriously messy. However so, it’s also true that the ones who are meant to be in your life will help you get through it with compassion, love and a little humor.

Originally from Silver Spring, MD, Marie Donna Davis was last seen as Miami Wata in 3Fifths (a New York Times Top 5 Pick). Marie enjoys the feel of a katana and a good rum-based cocktail. Rarely at the same time.

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