Your Hormones Want to Dance, Will You Join?

Are you married? This was the first question the gynecologist asked me. I did not understand the correlation, but I answered anyway: No, I am not married. I had skipped my period for many months and I had lower abdominal pain that would not go away. The doctor told me I had an ovarian cyst and that it was not serious. He mentioned that my cyst was a bit big, but since I am not married, perhaps it was better to just wait and see. I still did not understand the correlation, but nodded in agreement. One year and six gynecologists later, I gained almost ten kilograms and my cyst grew three times bigger.  At that point, the only solution was to get a laparoscopy. 

As part of my recovery, the doctor prescribed birth control pills to ‘regulate my hormones.’ Despite the unnecessarily painful journey, I was happy. I felt in control of my cycle and my body for the first time in a while. Nausea, vomiting, headaches, bloating, stomach cramps, changes in weight, changes in appetite. I read the long list of side effects, but I did not care much. I was confident my body would get used to them. I was relieved when my period came on time every month and when I realized my cramps were a thing of the past. Breast tenderness, nipple discharge, vaginal itching, decreased sex drive. I was in pain on a daily basis, but I kept telling myself: as long as I did not get another cyst, I was not going to complain. 

But I also started getting migraines that would persist for days, my brain felt foggy, and my mood swings were worse than ever. It was increasingly difficult to continue pretending the pill was good for me. It had been almost two years since the surgery. I was going every three months for a check up and an ultrasound. Every time I saw my gynecologist, I complained about the side effects. But the doctor would tell me they were common, that many women go through these experiences, and that it was normal to feel this ‘mild discomfort.’ I basically just had to toughen up. But I was genuinely fed up with feeling this way on a daily basis. I hit rock bottom when my mental health was deteriorating, as yet another side effect of the pill. The gynecologist explained that I could get another cyst if I stop taking them, and frankly, it was a risk I was willing to take. 

I wanted to find alternatives. I wanted to work with and not against my body, I simply did not want to live the rest of my life in pain. This was when I came across Niswa, a platform dedicated to teaching women about their cycles, helping them reconnect with their bodies, and taking charge of their fertility. I signed up for the online course on the Fertility Awareness Method (FAM). Thanks to Zainab, Niswa’s founder, I embarked on a beautiful journey of learning and self discovery. Slowly, I am learning that my period is only one season of my cycle. I am learning that changes in my lifestyle can have a positive impact on my ovaries’ tendency to create cysts, and that healthy cervical mucus is a natural part of this journey. Most importantly, I am learning that the pill has been suppressing my body’s natural and healthy hormonal dance. 

Does this mean I am against the pill? Not necessarily. No one can deny that the pill has revolutionized the lives of millions of women. When the pill became available, more women were able to control their fertility and make more informed choices about their lives, including increased access to education and employment. The pill is also useful for women who suffer from severe cramps, endometritis, premenstrual syndrome (PMS), premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), and many other health issues - including ovarian cysts. From that perspective, the pill has been a necessary tool to achieve reproductive justice for so many women. 

But my concern persists. Should women keep pretending these side effects are not that big of a deal? Should painful experiences be downplayed and described as a natural part of regulating our cycles? Why cannot we do better? This experience has opened my eyes to how much health care can further condition our bodies to harmful beliefs and social practices. The secrecy and shame surrounding our periods are part of the problem. How can you have a fruitful conversation with your doctor if you do not understand your cycle patterns? How can you seek advice when you are ashamed of bleeding every month? Body literacy is the first step and monitoring our cycles can teach us many things. Slowly, we learn how to listen to our bodies, and lovingly, we can learn how to talk back.