Mayim Rabim

I recently had to start using a diaphragm, because a new drug that I am taking has been found to interact adversely with horemonal contraceptives. On the whole, I think that Husband and I are adjusting well. This month, however, something strange happened. I was not expecting my period to start for several days, but when I removed the diaphragm the morning after sex, I noticed some light brown discharge mixed with the contraceptive jelly.

I don't see how this could halachically be considered dam niddah, since it was off-cycle, a light color, and on a flesh-colored diaphragm. That does not mean, however, that it was not menstrual blood. As it turns out, it probably was, since my period started within a day.

The whole experience has left me feeling very weird. I had sex at the beginning of my period, but I was tehorah, as far as I can tell. Or am I getting something wrong?

Since I am not Orthodox and am not observing T"H in a "particularly Orthodox way" (as I like to put it), I have nowhere to turn for a definitive answer. The good news is that my community has a new female rabbi who seems to be roughly on my halachic wavelength. I plan to meet with her this Thursday to talk about T"H and birth control, among other things. Maybe she can help me figure out how to handle this sort of situation.

I knew there was a reason we were supposed to circle veset-days in our calendars just as soon as we calculated them. It's so those of us with ridiculously long cycles wouldn't go and compltely forget about them until two weeks after they'd passed.

Oh well - if memory serves, we didn't actually have sex on any of the "wrong" days.

This week's article in the Atlanta Jewish Times is worth giving a once-over.

...black pantiliners for sale on eBay.

(Don't all go bidding against each other or anything.)

Well. That was a first, and hopefully a last.

I had to miss mikvah night in order to make a shiva call.

We actually got home before the mikvah closed, but only by about half an hour. If I had run straight from the car to the mikvah, I think they might still have felt compelled to let me in.

But I remembered learning that if you haven't been able to start preparing before dark, it's especially important to take a full hour to prepare thoroughly, because there might be an added temptation to rush. It didn't seem right to impose on the mikvah staff to stay late when summer hours are already so late, and especially not this month, when there was no issue of fertility for us.

But I was also not sure it was right to give up when there was a remote chance I could be with my husband that night. I compromised and ran a bath while we tried to call the mikvah. The line was busy until 1 minute before closing time. When I got through, the attendant said they were closed.

I was lucky in that, as I said, it was not an issue of fertility this month. And I was lucky too, although very sad, that there was not a doubt in my mind where I was meant to be that night: at the shiva house, not at the mikvah.

But it was still a little antsy, sitting out the evening, wondering if we would somehow get home in time after all. And even after I knew that wasn't going to happen, and let it go -- it was hard to take seriously the fact that harchakot had to remain in place until tomorrow night. Why can't we just sleep in the same bed tonight? Look, I counted my seven days. I made my last bedikah. I'm an hour away from tehorah.

Except not.

It made me realize that for all I've gotten used to T"H, even found meaning in it, maybe there's some element of it that I still don't buy. Tehorah status normally coincides with my visit to the mikvah, so I've never had to tease the two things apart. I apparently take mikvah night seriously enough to obsess about it. But on a visceral level, do I feel any different after I get out of the water than I did before I got in? Do I really believe that dip in the water is what makes me transformed?

It's still a mystery.

Right now, I'm very thankful I'm tehorah.

I've been quite sick on and off the past 2,5 weeks. There was a vacation in that time, and we've gone away again this weekend. I've wanted cuddling (he's my human heating pad) but little to nothing more. I feel sad because I know he wants more. I really want more too, but the rest of my body just can't handle it.

b'h I'm doing much better and have a new course of drugs to take. Let's hope they work.

Anyway, I felt the need to share. Thank you.

Shabbat Shalom.

Surgery is a pain, literally... and even more so when it has to do with female areas. You already have to get over the fact that doctors are involved in every aspect of your cycle when you go through infertility, but walking into a cold room and positioning yourself on the operating table (complete with stirrups I might add) you start to feel like you no longer have any "private" parts.

All this aside, I'm finding myself in a weird place after having this surgery. I confirmed with my doctor repeatedly (actually my husband did since I was still "out of it"), that absolutely no uterine blood was shed during my surgery. So the blood that I am seeing is from other areas, and is not blood that will make me a niddah. The doctor said no intimate contact until the next visit, so I am finding myself in the position of being "allowed" to my husband via taharat hamishpacha, but "forbidden via doctors."

I've had "non niddah" spotting from other procedures before, but never this strong or for this long... and they haven't forbidden relations until now. I guess I'm starting to see how the harchochos are supposed to help us. The first few nights my husband slept in a separate bed so he wouldn't jostle me, and last night he slept in the same bed with me. It was easier to resist wanting to hug and cuddle with him when he was not right there next to me. Even knowing that if he were to hug me and accidentally hit my suture area it would SMART (which it did) didn't keep me away.

Still, I sort of feel like I am living in a parallel universe for a little while. It's weird to change a maxi pad and then go off to hug my husband. It's reminding me a little of my first marriage (where I did not keep taharat hamishpacha), and I am deciding definitively that I like life with the practice — despite all the rules and hurdles — much better than my life without it. Maybe it's just me, but day-to-day life seems more spiritual that way.

I guess this experience is helping me to appreciate what I have, by comparing it to what it could be... so I hope that next time I actually am bleeding niddah, I won't be so bothered by having to be separate from him. We'll see...

I know going from tehorah to niddah (and back again) isn't fun or easy. It's why we are supposed to calculate onot, in anticipation of niddah. It's why we count clean days in anticipation of mikveh.

But I really wasn't prepared this month for my husband's reaction after I came home from mikveh.

We both had a difficult time with harchakot this past cycle. I was doing ok (some extreme physical pain made me really not want to be touched) but well, as the days wore on (5,6, shabbos) it was quite difficult.

Not to mention that the mikveh opened really late motzei shabbos. And I was a bit worried. Would they remember me? Would I have the same receptionist? Attendant? Would I remember to do everything? As it was late I convinced my husband to drive me to the mikveh.. there's a small patch I'm not to comfortable walking alone. He agreed and asked me how long it would take. I told him that all I had to do was shower and dip, I had already bathed as soon as shabbos finished. He agreed and brought along a nice thick book. We parked around the corner and down the block... I went in. I paid cash this time. I knew exactly what I needed, "a shower only please". I walked with a bit more confidence. I fit in how I felt, unlike last time (the "first" time). This time I was eager to reunite with my husband. This time I understood the look in others eyes. The anticipation, the unspoken stress. "Room 9" I was told... I went. Locked both doors successfully. Showered. Checked my feet. EEP! dry skin flaking everywhere. I fixed it the best I could (see extreme physical pain above. b"H I'm ok, it's just uncomfortable to bend). i called the attendant and hoped for the best. a very nice woman came. I apologized ahead of time for the flailing skin all over my feet. I could barely bend my leg for her to check it. She was very nice and gentle to me. She helped me to snip all the extra bits. We then went directly to the mikveh. She let me wear my glasses down so I wasn't too scared of the steps. Dunk. "kosher". Made the brachah successfully on my own. Omein. Dunk. "kosher". Ye'hi Ratzon. With help. Silly me forgot my glasses were right there on the step next to me. Oh well. Dunk. "kosher". With modesty I went back up the steps (she had the robe in front of her). A gentle warm touch. "How often have you been here?" she gently asked. "Twice". She smiled and wished me a gut voch and a pleasant evening. I left. Walking to the car I realized I forgot to leave a tip. Oops. Next time. We've decided we'll play this game for a year.

I got into the car and leant to kiss my husband and he responded by starting the car and getting out of the parking spot. No one would have seen us. I had been looking forward to that kiss for two weeks.

I hid my disappointment and we went home, stopping at the store for the next morning's breakfast. (not what *I* had been planning on, but whatever). Then we went home and he got ready for sleep.

I tried to snuggle with him but he sort of "threw off" my advances.

This happened more or less for the next two weeks. We advanced to hand holding, a wee bit of snuggling, and a bit of sex. Today I am niddah again. We were anticipating it but ...

But we still haven't fully resolved this er... not really his lack of his interest.. I think it's more an imbalance in timing? I think it also has to deal with some other areas of our lives (i.e. how I display my married status), but, well, his behavior surprised me.

In any case, I'm eagerly counting down to mikveh night again. It should be another motzei shabbos if my body continues to act on medicated clockwork.

We'll see what this cycle brings.

...that is the question. I was considering not going back to the mikvah, but have since thought better of it and I'll tell you why all of this has even crossed my mind.

The miscarriage was over three months ago now, so I have been un-pregnant longer than I was ever pregnant. In that time, my husband and I have been fighting like cats & dogs. Yes, we're getting help, but it is not working.

It occurred to me that I could simply just not go back to the mikvah. Not to punish him, you understand - that's not my style. It's just that in the past three months he has displayed much autocratic and separation-type behaviour and our marriage has been severely jeopardized. My reason for remaining in niddah was that I have deep misgivings about sleeping with a man who has, by leaps and bounds, suddenly become a stranger to me.

And then I started reading all about it. There are so many entries in our history and law about mikvah use and marriage, but what it all really comes down to is sex. Who gets to have it, under what circumstances and why. More importantly, who gets to control sex.

There is a story of how all the women in Maimonides' community a thousand years ago refused to return to the mikvah until they were treated better. Although their wives were all threatened with divorce, the men caved.

In Jewish law, we learn that if no marital relations take place, then a divorce is mandated. But what I wanted from my husband was not a divorce. I just want him back. I also had no desire to hurt him by remaining in niddah. It just felt like he wasn't so married to me anymore and nothing we do seems to help, so physical separation seemed ideal to me.

Then I began thinking about the positive aspects of mikvah, like its soul-cleansing, spirit-liberating power and I thought to myself: that's what I really want.

I need the mikvah to take away the following:
niddut, stress, fear, anxiety, pain, grief, and all the other things in daily life which leave a crust of schmutz over my heart.

I need the mikvah to grant the following:
open-heartedness, safety, purity, faith, trust, groundedness, and all the other things that are required to have a deep, intimate relationship with G-d and others, especially with my spouse.

So even though my inclination to withdraw is valid and only a method of protecting my most vulnerable parts, I recognize that I will reap more expansive benefits from continuing my mikvah practice. It will help heal me each month ever so slightly so that I am rejuvenated and can once engage in the fray that our marriage has become.

More than once, as I'm about to be seduced, I've looked down and seen the first few drops of blood.

Only a few times, but definitely more than once.

Even more often, I've looked at my calendar, counted the days, set my heart on one last time for the month, and then something has come up. One of us is too tired, one of us doesn't feel well, a delay or distraction or deadline comes up that night... somehow we're prevented. Each time something different; I never see the pattern while it's happening. Inevitably I storm and cry about it. Partly because I'm especially shaky about separation just before it happens, partly because I'm hormonally off balance from the approaching period.

But a couple of hours later, wouldn't you know it: I'm bleeding early.

I've wondered why this happens to me every so often, and whether it happens to others. I think it's partly because I'm irregular by up to a week, so that sometimes my halachic separation days are spread a day or three or five apart. And maybe I push my luck, planning to be intimate with my husband on those intervening days, when really I might get my period at any time.

When I was first married I called the rabbi in a panic one night because my separation time had been during the day, and my last bedikah before nightfall was questionable. He said, I can't look at it now. We have to wait until tomorrow morning when it's light out. I wailed, but I thought we had one more night, I told my husband we would! He said, gently, this is what I advise all couples to do: sit down with the calendar together. Not right after you come home from mikvah, make it a few days later. Figure out what is your last completely safe day, before any of your separation days start. Make sure to be together on that day. After that, give up on the rest of the month, until you know whether you've gotten your period or you're pregnant. It will save you a lot of emotional turmoil in the end.

I was horrified, and did my best to forget I'd ever heard that. But I've been married a lot longer, and while I could see the wisdom even then, I am better able to tolerate the idea now. I try to do this a lot of the time. And still, even when I do, I sometimes get caught short. So incredibly short.

Each time it happens, I think to myself: what if all the frustrating delays, the obstacles, the inexplicable urge to glance down at the pajamas or sheets at the last instant, is really Gd trying to protect you from something far worse?

In my earlier post, ipseq said that she'd like to discuss the unspoken pressure to have sex as the only (halachicly permissible) means of sexual release for the husband, even when the wife is not interested. I think it's an interesting discussion, so I'm opening up this post for it, but I feel the need to state that it's not the sort of pressure that I was talking about in my last essay. The undefined tension in the air isn't imposed by this feeling that I must be an outlet for my husband's sexual frustration. On the contrary, a large part of the tension is that I desire the physical and emotional closeness. Rather, that I want to have had that closeness, and to have had it recently or in the near future, but not now dammit I'm tired/cranky/busy. But, oops, I'm going to be niddah tomorrow/in three days/next week so we'd better get it in while we can.

Or on mikvah night...it's not that my husband is so horny that he can't keep his hands off of me, or that I feel that way about him, it's that we're "supposed to" have sex and enjoy it. Not only that, but it's "supposed to be" my special time, the time promised to me (implicitly) in my ketubah. And if I don't cash in my chips that night, then he can use the "I'm too tired" excuse for the whole rest of the week if he wants...by which point I may be too tired, or the specialness of being together again will have worn away.

So, anyway, pressure. Specifically pressure-induced-by-male-sexual-frustration. Talk about it, because ipseq wants to. Because I want to.

This cycle has been going for months. OK, only two months and change, but that's plenty. I know the body takes time to adjust after going off of hormonal contraceptives, and I was never regular before, but not having a "break" is starting to annoy me. It's not that I want to be completed separated from my husband. On the contrary, I love cuddling before I get out of bed in the morning and exchanging a kiss when he comes home at night. And he's not pressuring me for unwanted sex...but that pressure is in the air just the same. After a few years of the "get it in now while you can" attitude, I can't help but think of being tehorah as a race against a deadline.

It doesn't help that for the first half of this cycle we thought that I just might ovulate on my own, so we tried for conception at every opportunity for a few weeks...now we're just tired. After all, we met and exceed our Intercourse Quota for one tehorah-phase fairly early on, and putting that aside, every-other-day sex is a tough act to follow (so much so that starting up again feel like an unspoken vow to go back to that rate, and we'r enot up to the challenge just now.) I feel guilty when I drop off to sleep without even a half-hearted attempt for the sixth, eighth, or tenth night in a row (even though my husband does the same, though unfortunately not on the same nights). I feel unattractive and asexual, but I can't be bothered to get myself excited enough to put on sexy lingerie or plot a mini-seduction...it's useless anyway, since there's a good chance one of us will choose to prioritize sleep or housework or some other task. I never thought the sexual excitement could drop out of our relationship so quickly.

I just filled a prescription for progesterone capsules...a few days of those, a few days off, and I should be niddah again. There's a chance that this could kick-start my reproductive system, though the more likely possibility is another anovulatory cycle and a PCOS diagnosis. I hope, though, that this break will be just what we need to revitalize our sex life, because if there's a long road ahead, at least the journey should be fun.

When I went to the mikvah over vacation this past month, I got into the car and kissed my husband. Just like that. No butterflies, no tension, and best of all, no fights.

My first thought was that it's a feng shui type of thing, and my house needs a makeover. Then I realized that I never had this post-mikvah anxiety before I had kids, and that school, internship, a house, toddler tantrums, and my husband's 16 hour work days (he usually has to rush home from work so that I can get to the mikvah in time) greatly hinders romantic feelings, and when we are forced to partially shut down those feelings for two weeks it becomes even more difficult for them to flow freely at an appointed time.

Going to the mikvah towards the end of a most needed and enjoyed vacation showed me that although at this point are many factors that conflict with a romantic relationship, underneath it all we still have it and that with enough forethought we can get it back. While I used to see mikvah night as a return to the physical, I think I will now approach it as Our Night to Shut Off the Rest of the World. Everybody needs to be in that place once in a while.

The day I go to the mikva is probably the most exciting day of the month. I walk around the entire day grinning like I have a secret, dreamily imagining my husband and thinking about our reunion that will take place in only twelve hours… six hours… three hours…

As soon as I put my kids to bed I start my preparations. I try to get to the mikva with at a time when there won’t be much waiting so that I can get out as quickly as possible. I then speed home, going forty on residential streets, my heart beating with anticipation. Of course this looks like it’s going to be a wonderful evening.

Except when I walk through the door, everything changes. I become this tense, crazy, haphephobic monster. My husband tries to greet me with a kiss, and I duck. He’ll ask me an innocent question, something like “Do you want ice in your Diet Dr. Pepper?” and I start to scream and throw things. Eventually I ease my way back into things—first a poke, then a handshake, and we take it from there.

I am doing the best I can to understand why this happens. I know it isn’t my husband since I can think of nothing but being with him the entire time we are apart. The best I can come up with is that I find the cycle of together-apart-together-apart to be difficult to tolerate. The nature of our relationship is so different from one part of the cycle to the next, and I can’t just wiggle my nose and change into sexual Avigayil from just-a-good-friend Avigayil. Does anybody have any other insights? Advice?