Updated: July 31, 2016
Originally Published: Feb. 23, 2005
As I enter my 49th year, I find myself grappling with both minor and significant concerns. In truth, I’m just constantly sweating.
The initial “wave” of this perplexing experience struck during a business trip to California with my spouse a few years back. “It’s odd,” I remarked, gazing out of the hotel window at a stunning sunset. “I feel feverish, yet I don’t feel truly ill. Perhaps a virus is brewing? Maybe my immune system will ward it off.” But it wasn’t a virus; it was something far more transformative—menopause.
This is a phase I once believed was reserved for “older” women, something I thought would be far off in the future. Surely, at 49, I’m not old. I’m not ready for this change.
And then, another hot flash strikes. They come with the same intensity as the relentless waves of the Pacific, forcing me to pause, breathe deeply, and suppress the urge to shed layers of clothing, drawing puzzled stares from younger colleagues and understanding nods from those who have been through it.
Who came up with the term “menopause”? It’s definitely not a pause; it’s an ending—an ending to several chapters of my life. It marks the conclusion of those monthly cycles that have accompanied me since the age of 13, save for a few years during pregnancy and breastfeeding.
It signifies the end of my reliance on estrogen. Many years ago, I was a smoker. Quitting was a challenging journey, but nicotine withdrawal pales in comparison to this new reality. I could easily play the role of a drug addict in a movie with the sweating and shaking I experience.
Additionally, it signifies the end of my metabolism’s predictable rhythm. I used to know precisely what caused weight gain and how to shed it within a few weeks. Now, there are no quick fixes!
Yet, menopause also ushers in new beginnings. I’m greeted with unexpected surprises like facial hair, insomnia, mood swings, and other delightful experiences I’m still discovering or prefer not to discuss.
I hold on to the hope that some aspects of my life remain unchanged, like my fondness for scarves and anything that doesn’t feature a zipper for quick removal.
Recently, while shopping for clothes that accommodate my hot flashes, I encountered a lovely young woman selling Dead Sea salts. As she massaged my hand and exfoliated my skin, she inquired about my age. “Forty-nine,” I replied. In her thick accent, she said, “Ah, you look pretty good.” I felt a blush creep in, triggering another hot flash. “What will I look like when I’m no longer drenched in sweat?” I wondered. “Do your magical salts help with weight loss?” But I thanked her, walked away empty-handed, and instead opted for pants in a larger size and breathable fabrics that flow loosely.
During those moments of shopping, I found myself reflecting on life. It’s what you tend to do during times of change.
My children once adored a song titled “100 Years” by Five for Fighting. “You only got a hundred years to live,” the chorus goes. While most of us may not reach that mark, I find myself in the middle, transitioning through life’s seasons.
At 19, I met my husband, marking the tail end of the “spring” of my life—full of childhood, education, and newfound experiences. By 29, I had welcomed my first child during the flourishing “summer” of life, which was filled with the busyness of parenthood and career aspirations. Now, at 49, I have ceased menstruating. The days of nurturing my family are winding down, with two of my three children in college and the youngest soon to follow. While I didn’t expect to have another child, the finality of it still brings a twinge of sadness, a bittersweet farewell to the estrogen-fueled phase.
But, as the woman at the mall said, I look “pretty good.” And when I manage to shake off the weight of despair that occasionally accompanies hot flashes, I remember my own mother-in-law. At 49, she embarked on a journey of education, made new friends, traveled the world, and welcomed three grandchildren. Now, at 79, she embraces the “winter” of her life with optimism. I hope my own winter is long and gentle.
Here I stand, on the brink of “autumn,” my favorite season—full of vibrant colors and a bountiful harvest of experiences from spring and summer. The air is crisp, the skies are bright, and although the days grow shorter, the nights offer a cozy tranquility.
I look forward with intrigue to the years ahead at 59 and 69. “There’s never a wish better than this when you only got a hundred years to live,” except for these sweats—let’s just call those an Indian summer.
For those navigating similar transitions, resources such as NHS’s guide to intrauterine insemination can provide valuable insights. Additionally, if you’re considering options for family building, check out Make A Mom’s fertility journey guide or explore the Cryobaby At-Home Insemination Kit for authoritative resources on home insemination.
Summary:
As I navigate through my 49th year, I reflect on the transformations that menopause brings—an end to certain life cycles and the beginning of new experiences. This transitional phase, likened to the changing seasons, presents both challenges and opportunities for growth. While I embrace the wisdom that comes with age, I also acknowledge the bittersweet moments of finality. Life is a journey, and as I look forward to the future, I find solace in the beauty of each season.
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