A Celebration of Red

My daughter's first period will be a coming-of-age celebration. It will be a girls' night in. I'll share the moment with her, not as her mother, but as a fellow woman, and friend. I will make it an event. There will be food, movies, music, laughter.

There will be gifts of heating pads and warm blankets, and favourite movies and playlists. And painkillers. The strongest ones. And long t-shirts and granny panties with funny messages. For days when she needs comfort and relief. When she needs to be less sexy, less super more human. More woman.

I will make sure she knows how important this moment is, and all that it means for her beautiful body. I will arm her with information to defend herself against every ignorant myth. And every ignorant man.

She will know that a period is a blessing, not a curse, and the beginning of a beautiful journey. And a beautiful thing to endure. Endure, yes, because it comes with tribulations. But some blessings do. 

I will tell her stories - of first periods, the first ones missed - the agony of missing a period.

I'll leave her little love notes to get her through the days. And trinkets and presents.

It must not be miserable. It must not be sad. It must not be lonely, or terrifying, or abominable. She must know that she can always come to me. She must know that it is something to cherish. It will be a beautiful celebration of red.