One of the good things about being pregnant was not having my period for a while nine months. One of the good things about having my period is not being pregnant.

There are days when I’m standing in the train my shoulders hurting or huffing up a flight of stairs and I suddenly think: “Thank God I’m not pregnant.” There are days when I feel queasy and I think: At least I’m not pregnant.” Or I pass a bakery and think: “I don’t ever have to force myself to eat bread again.”Overall, I am not a fan of pregnancy, at least in the mode in which I experienced it. The first time around I was charmed by the process once I stopped throwing up. The second time my attitude was more of a “not again.”

This is not to say I don’t appreciate babies. I do. Though not the early infancy of them, the dreaded fourth trimester. I like toddlers best. I also like having two of them. No more.

Before each period arrives, I experience mild to medium-level panic that it might not. I know I will not go through with another pregnancy. But I dread being in that position.

This time my period was late. I had terrible PMS symptoms which can unfortunately also be pregnancy symptoms. The joy I felt when I saw blood on my underwear was unbounded.

For the first time in ages, I got my period on a holiday. I didn’t have to drag myself to work. I asked V to take over the kids and vegged all day. I sent him down for chips and chocolate and I stuck into them. I dosed myself with painkillers at regular intervals. I watched half a chick flick. This is how it’s supposed to be, I thought, as I lay on the couch finishing my book in peace because everyone else had gone down to play.

It’s been a long time since I have allowed myself to just rest when I have my period. It’s no wonder that I have fallen sick almost every time. I need to just call in sick next time.

Before I had kids, I thought my period itself was the worst thing ever. I agree it’s not pleasant still. But if I could just rest, I could handle it.