My First Period: I Told My Mum I Was Dying
Why does no one tell you period blood can be brown?
Hello and welcome to the third edition of Hysterical Health!
I talk a lot about the power of radical sharing to overcome stigma in healthcare. So, this week I’m putting words into action with the *very* personal story of my first period. Yes, it’s as dramatic as it sounds.
Why does no one tell you period blood can be brown?
If I’d known that, I might not have had such a traumatic start to my reproductive years - but at least it makes for a good story.
I got my first period when I was 13 years old. Except I didn’t realise it was my period for almost 4 days. During that time, I managed to convince myself that I was, in fact, dying.
I wasn’t completely oblivious to the existence of periods; I’d had the school period talk at age 9.
They’d separated the girls and boys into different rooms and told us in a roundabout way about periods. I remember the mass hysteria following that lesson: at least 3 girls crying in the toilets, one convinced she’d started her period right then and there.
My mum also tried to prepare me as best she could.
She’d bought me a period book that I’d looked at for all of 10 seconds before squirrelling it away in my wardrobe. Any attempts at open conversation were met with crippling embarrassment and begging to stop.
How ironic, given my job now!
So, when I returned home from school one day to find unwelcome brown goop in my underwear - it didn’t even register for a second that it could be my period.
I had imagined a nosebleed but from my vagina: a few bright red blood stains, nothing else. There was no representation beyond the drops of blue liquid used in period adverts.
Still confused and not 100% sure I hadn’t sh*t myself, I hid my underwear in my room.
I couldn’t risk putting them in the laundry basket and a) my mum asking embarrassing questions or b) my little sister seeing them and definitely telling people I had sh*t myself.
Over the next 4 days, it of course only got worse.
This was before the days when teenage girls were armed with a world of information in their pockets. I had a mobile phone, but it was only good for texting and sending pirated songs via Bluetooth.
So instead of doing any research or asking for help - I came to my own conclusion: I must be dying.
On the 4th day, I plucked up the courage to break the news to my mum. At least she had another daughter to fall back on.
I sat her down on my bed and handed her a shoe box. She gingerly opened it up. A total of 6 pairs of soiled underwear stared back at her.
A moment of silence.
She looked at the box, at me and back at the box. A mixture of disgust and amusement spread across her face.
‘Darling! It’s your period!’ she exclaimed.
I remember the relief flooding over me, swiftly followed by deep embarrassment.
Luckily, we were both able to laugh about it. She gave me a hug and showed me how to use a period pad. It was new and uncomfortable - and I was already outraged that this would be happening to me again the following month.
What a big fat welcome to womanhood.
The Takeaways
I was a (slightly) dramatic child.
Even if you have a close relationship with your parent - stigma runs deep and can make it difficult to talk about periods.
Menstrual education needs to happen early and in detail. Something as simple as warning young people that their period may look different at first could save a huge amount of anxiety and a lot of underwear from being ruined.
What’s Next?
Do you have a first period story that still makes you cringe? I’d love to hear it.
Relate to this story? Join the conversation and leave your thoughts in the comments.
As always, thank you for the support!
Until next time,
Eleanor