My 3 beautiful daughters.
And the last of my daughters has come into her womanhood.
Tonight I was contemplating the energy in the house, while I was tending to my own personal needs. My daughters were moving about, talking, sharing things, settling into their night patterns, finding a phone, finishing up homework, right along side of me. Russell was off in the living room, watching his SpongeBob show. All was right with my home. When I realized that something was off. Not the first time of course. But enough that I asked them, as they were passing by, and going about their lives: Okay, who went into moon?
Daphne mentioned that she had just finished up. And we were noting that she is in more regular pattern now. Which makes her feel better. And worries me less. Then said in the end, “Yeah, right along with Bronwyn.”
Bronwyn then started laughing about it. As if she were teasing me about it. “Yep. Just finished up.”
I thought that she was joking and told her that she must have been. They went on laughing, knowing that they had gotten one over on Mom. They had hidden the fact that Bronwyn came into her Moon – 2 months ago!
2 months ago.
I finished up my personal needs, and bantered with the 3 of them about this. Rebecca calling Bronwyn out on the fact that she was using her sister’s things, without telling her. Rebecca felt better, knowing why now. Daphne was the only one who knew, but only a couple of days after the fact. Seems that Bronwyn didn’t want anyone to know at all. 😦
I would shout it from the rooftops, but I can’t. The most I get is to journal about it here, and my feelings regarding this part of their growing up. I guess its better than I handled Rebecca’s, when I secretly texted the females in my family, and told them to come and read about it. I won’t be doing that with Bronwyn. So it will be slim, to unlikely that anyone will know about this very special time, that occurred nearly 2 months ago.
When I came into mine, I learned it by accident from reading a book by Judy Blume. I was shocked to find out that the reality of her books, dated from the 60’s, were so different than the reality of the 80’s. I was expecting a party. Maybe a special mother and daughter luncheon with a shopping trip to Bloomindale’s for my own special belt. Preferably one with bows and lace on it. Instead on the 1st day of the 7th grade; the 1st day of Jr. High School, at a new school, 2 months after my 12th birthday; I’m screaming for my mom to come to the bathroom. Her complete response, was to leave, then come back shortly with a box of Tampons, and said: “There’s directions in the box.” Thus ending our extensive talk about the birds and bees, and all that ‘womanly’ stuff.
I wanted differently for my daughters. I wanted them to know from the get-go that this was magical. Special. Awesometastic. I wanted them to at least be proud of their changes. To be happy, along with accepting, about them.
I pulled Bronwyn into my bedroom. We sat on my bed, and began to have a talk about her body’s changes. She was as cooperative as her sisters had previously been. Which was like pulling blood from a stone, instead of her flowering body. Eventually I pulled the “You can have this conversation with me, or you can have it with your Dad” card. She opened her mouth, and talked about the responsibilities that come with her Moon blood… the monthly birthing process… a hazard of becoming pregnant… and how there was nothing wrong, ugly, or icky about her body. Not even this part of her body.
I asked her if she wanted to have a Moon celebration. She declined that part too.
She, like her sisters before her, didn’t want me to know. Doesn’t want a party. Or a ceremony. Doesn’t want to have anything special occur. Doesn’t want to be a women. Doesn’t want to belong to this part of our circle. Doesn’t want to grow up.
So while none of my daughters feel happy about this part of their growth cycle, and none of them feel special, or want to celebrate it. At least they do allow me to have 1 small talk with them this, and agree to come and talk with me in the future about it.