The “terrible threes” is real y’all. It’s tough being a three year old. You’re trying to figure out how the world works as well as potty training, sharing your toys, meeting new people and learning to do things for yourself. Sometimes that means you lose your shit. My son Myles has been dealing with these experiences by falling to the floor screaming and crying in a fit of emotions. Keep Reading
This week I had my annual checkup with my gynecologist. Now that I’m done having kids (we decided that very soon after the second one was born #sleeplessnights), I have different concerns to discuss with my doctor. You see, both my maternal grandmother and great-grandmother died of ovarian cancer. I learned about this when doing an oral history project for one of my Women’s Studies classes on the women in my family. My great-grandmother was just 31 when she died, leaving behind my then 12 year old grandmother and my great-grandfather. I can’t even imagine how devastated it would be to lose your mother at such a young and critical age. I don’t know much about what kind of medical treatment she received or at what point she realized she had cancer, but they had her on laudanum to keep her comfortable. Ovarian cancer is really hard to detect and this was in the early 1920’s when she was diagnosed (1923) and died (1925).