Menopause is a wonderful chapter in my life, really. I'm accepting my chrone phase, much better than I did turning 30 (for which I stayed up all night, crying about getting old. HA!)

There is a little sadness though. I'm sad that my relationship with my uterus is more or less ending. She's going into retirement after 38 years of stellar service. From her first offering at the tender age of 10, month after month, as precise as a Swiss watch, she's kept time for me. 28 days. 28 days. 28 days. She's never become sick or oozy. She's never developed any fibroids - in fact, she's still as smooth as a baby's butt.

And, speaking of babies... On that assignment, my uterus performed like a champion, didn't she? Holding on to that microscopic mixture of seed and egg, stretching to accommodate its needs, nurturing its life, pushing that life out into the world. That was her shining moment!

Of course, in the past few years, my uterus has become, well, a little - unreliable. A little bit unpredictable. She's forgetful, and doesn't remember exactly when it's 28 days. She's had less and less to offer as time goes on. And now, it appears, she's nearly finished with her work.

I'll miss you, old girl. But I'm proud to have worked with you all these years, and I'm a better person for having a uterus like you. Enjoy your golden years. You deserve them!

December 27, 2002