Crimson drops traveling from my fertile womb to the world, days upon end, for the first time in 25 months.

Drops from the slice in Kaia’s foot, maraschino red and pouring as fast as sand in an hourglass.

The next day, drops from my finger, deeply gnashed from the serrated blade of a knife, soaking a paper towel like glittering rubies on Indra’s net.

That same night, drops from a puncture wound in my arm that my cat had made as I lay down into bed, leaving a mottled scarlet trail on the tile floor of my bathroom.

Fresh blood and old blood, all in a matter of days.

More blood than I’d seen in years in this household, not counting the release of blood immediately following Indigo’s birth.
It all began the morning after a dream in which I surrendered all fear and faced a dark, towering demon in the middle of a dense forest. Two midwives drove me there, protecting my heart on this journey, as I willingly stepped out of the car and began the short and quiet walk to meet my menace in the shadowy woods.

So much freedom in letting go. Mixed in was primal liberation like none I’d known before. Indeed, it rivaled birth.

The demon, intensely powerful and terrifying at once, may as well have been singing these lyrics from my favorite musical (“Into the Woods”):

“Right and wrong don’t matter in the woods,
Only feelings.
Let us meet the moment unblushed.
Life is often so unpleasant-
You must know that, as a peasant-
Best to take the moment present
As a present for the moment.”

When I awoke – still started from the dream – and used the bathroom, the blood lingered in the water and it shocked me. Yes, even after 18 years of monthly cycles, the blood is surprising after having a hiatus for so long. I was not prepared to see that.

My first nervous thought: “Oh no, was it a baby?”

Then, laughter. “Fat chance”, my heart responded a sigh of relief.

Then, just for kicks, the logical brain butted in “Of course it wasn’t a baby, dipshit. Indigo weaned a month ago, it’s been over two years since your last cycle, acne has exploded on your face again. That should have clued you in to the fact that your cycle would be coming back any moment”.

Yeah, my brain is THAT nice. If it had eyes, it would have rolled them.
Thus began the blood incidents.

Before drifting to sleep one night, it hit me: my life has been surrounded by the mystery of blood lately. For me, it meant a surge of newness, the very vitality of life flowing through me and out of me. It meant magic, as blood seems bewitched with a certain sorcery. Nothing like streams of blood to remind you that you are alive.

A rebirth and reawakening

Transformation and molting.

It is blood that gives life and blood that can swipe it.

Blood that heals, coagulates, and circulates.

“Yes, yes” I nodded in the stillness of my room that night. “It all makes sense now”
It was no coincidence I bled the morning after that dream.

The night I stood face to alarming face with myself.


5 Comments Add yours

  1. This post is crazy-gorgeous. How do you do that? 🙂

  2. janis says:

    What a powerful dream, and what a stunning post, Leigh. xoxo

  3. clmama says:

    This is an awesome piece, Leigh.

  4. What an incredible dream. I love dreams like that … they always bring such amazing healing into my life.

    And 2 years?! You lucky dog! I got my period 12 months and 1 day after M was born, and got it the day before Sophie turned 6 months, grrr. I guess that’s the price I pay for Sophie going long stretches at night without nursing. But to add insult to injury, all of a sudden I struggle to get my Diva cup in, and it leaks. Bah.

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