Tonight I am going to take a page from the book of my dear blog friend, Sass, and write my AF a letter.
I want to start out by saying that I have not missed your nastiness for the last 2.5 years. Your visits after my surgery were the best we have ever had, and if you have to be around, I would prefer you come and go the way you did in those months leading up to my pregnancy. I liked that you were finally able to visit without making me sick with cramps a week before you actually reared your ugly head. I loved the way that when you did rear, you didn't knock me on my ass for a day, pleading for a swift death to ease the pain and stop the nausea.
I don't understand why you feel that just because you have been blocked from my life since May of 08 that you have to come back with a vengeance. I'm not sure why you feel the need to put me in constant pain the last couple of days, knowing full well you aren't due until next week. Are you going to torture me until you darken my doorstep? And why aren't non-prescription pain killers enough to make you ease off a bit? Do I really have to go to the doctor to get horse tranquilizers again?
I don't appreciate the way you have been trying to rebuild my lining completely in a 24-hour period. It isn't necessary for any reason at all. I don't need a nice thick lining for a baby right now, and there is no need to make up for lost time in one cycle. Please ease up a bit, could you?
I realize you may have missed me the last couple of years, but I would appreciate a nicer hello present. This one just isn't working for me. I gave you ice cream on top of a brownie along with an N.SAID. I would appreciate it if you would graciously accept those gifts and slow down in the pain and bloat department. Let's make this relationship a little more amicable, okay?
Thank you so much,
And now a letter to my IUD:
I miss you. I am sorry I didn't appreciate you more when we were together. I look back fondly on our time together now and appreciate how you kept AF at bay. How you protected me from her cruelness.
We had good times, didn't we?
If I could take back the day we were parted, I would. I will always remember peaking at you under your paper towel after you had been removed and telling you goodbye.
I hope you are happy in your new biowaste life.
I will miss you the next few months.