My teenage years were marked by extreme pelvic pain, excessive bleeding, mood swings, and mental health dysfunction. At the time, I thought I was just weak, dramatic, or unlucky. No one ever told me my body might be trying to tell me something. It turns out, I had been trying to function with chronic endometriosis, a disease that causes endometrial-like tissue to grow outside the uterus—fusing organs together, causing widespread inflammation, and generally wreaking havoc on hormones.
I didn’t receive an endometriosis diagnosis until I was 22 and on the operating table. But I wouldn’t have gotten to that point without learning how my body ought to be functioning, rather than powering through pain.
Sadly, millions of women in America are entering universities with very little knowledge of how their reproductive systems, menstrual cycles, hormone health, and fertility work [1]. When they experience issues like I had, most often the only solution given to them by doctors is hormonal birth control. They won’t find out about their underlying condition until infertility strikes them ten or twenty years down the line.
Thankfully, I had the opportunity at my school to participate in a Cycle Mindfulness Club – so I learned about cycle irregularities and knew to ask for help. Without it, I’d likely still be suffering —and my disease would have kept progressing, likely destroying my chances at natural conception down the line.
The lack of cycle education in the U.S.
In recent years, numerous studies have shown that teenagers are graduating high school with tremendous misconceptions about their reproductive biology [1]. Not only do they lack knowledge of the location and function of reproductive organs, but their understanding of the physical and psychological changes that occur when one goes through reproductive maturation is almost non-existent, with confusion and acceptance of cultural stigma surrounding menstruation [2].
As most women will probably tell you, the health or sex-ed class they experienced in middle or high school had little to say about menstrual cycles and hormonal health. Instead, it probably focused on abstinence, or, even more likely, how to avoid pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases under the assumption that most teens are (or will soon be) sexually active.
The tragedy of this method of sex-ed is that it disregards all other aspects of reproductive health education—merely focusing on the worry that teens will become pregnant.
Keeping women in the dark (and on birth control) is a missed opportunity to address issues like an endometriosis diagnosis, PCOS, and more
This does a tremendous disservice to all women (and men!) of reproductive age—not only because it cloaks knowledge of one’s body in mystery, shame, and fear, but also because it withholds information that could likely help in the discovery, diagnosis, and treatment of underlying diseases or chronic conditions.
For example, endometriosis affects 1 in 10 women, PCOS affects 1 in 20, uterine fibroids affect 26 million women, and thyroid dysfunction affects 1 in 8 women in the U.S., yet women with these and other conditions experience tremendous diagnosis gaps [3] [4]. Furthermore, research shows a correlation between body illiteracy and delays in diagnosis.
For decades, the standard of care when a woman presents with symptoms like painful periods, chronic acne, heavy bleeding, or mood swings has been hormonal suppression through birth control—even if she’s not sexually active [5]. In fact, in America today, 58% of women and 33% of teens use hormonal birth control for non-contraceptive reasons. What no one is telling these girls is that putting them on contraception is just a band-aid for the underlying disease—a disease that won’t stop growing or worsening just because symptoms are managed with birth control.
In America today, 58% of women and 33% of teens use hormonal birth control for non-contraceptive reasons. What no one is telling these girls is that putting them on contraception is just a band-aid for the underlying disease—a disease that won’t stop growing or worsening just because symptoms are managed with birth control.
A few years from now, I could have easily been yet another woman suffering through years of infertility—masking my symptoms with birth control and NSAIDS, and eventually turning to IVF to conceive—if I hadn’t had someone step in and explain that my symptoms weren’t normal, and that I deserved to feel good in my body.
The role Cycle Mindfulness Clubs played in my journey towards reproductive health
When I started college, I was still suffering through my symptoms, battling leaps in depression and anxiety, and still striking out finding a doctor who would offer me anything but birth control. In my junior year, a club offered an intro session for Creighton Model cycle tracking. It was the first time I heard that pain wasn’t normal, and that if I wanted to protect my future fertility, I needed to focus on it now.
I learned the basics of cervical mucus observation, charting my cycles, and what the rises and falls of women’s hormones look like throughout her cycle—and that we could use all of these things to search for signs of underlying dysfunction.
After this class, I was empowered—I finally realized there was a way to actually show that something was off. Then, by chance, a biology grad student (and mom of two!) decided to start hosting a Cycle Mindfulness Club on campus—right when I most needed someone to guide me in this new frontier of menstrual health.
A Cycle Mindfulness Club club is a peer-led campus group for women to gather and learn about cycle health, fertility, and all things womanhood. I finally had a space to open up about my periods, hormone fluctuation, and worries about my future fertility—and I wasn’t alone. The club took off, and a group would gather every week to learn the basics of charting our biomarkers, hormones, pain, and irregularities. We discussed the best ways to support our cycle health: when to exercise, sleep patterns, what foods to eat and avoid, and the best supplements to take. For the first time, I began to see patterns in my symptoms—my cycle wasn’t just a random roller coaster of chaos—it was actually very clear.
I soon began to suspect that I had endometriosis or PCOS, and when I brought my charts to my instructor, she agreed and recommended I find a NaProTechnology doctor to begin diagnostic testing.
Finding answers through RRM
Unfortunately, because of the way our healthcare system is set up, it is very difficult to find a doctor who understands the restorative reproductive medicine (RRM) model—that is, treating the root causes of reproductive dysfunction and infertility rather than offering patients hormonal birth control and IVF as their sole solutions.
But I was blessed—on pilgrimage last October, my mom was seated next to Dr. Marguerite Duane, RRM practitioner and founder of an organization dedicated to supporting and educating fertility awareness- and RRM-trained professionals: FACTS about Fertility. I began working with Dr. Duane, using my cycle charts as a guide for when to complete blood, sugar, and nutrient tests. I was trying new supplements, elimination diets, and lifestyle changes all with her guidance, until finally she decided it was time to see if surgery would help.
What most people don’t understand about endo is that it can’t be diagnosed until you’re on the operating table, with laparoscopic wires inserted into your ureters to identify the disease. Even more tragic, very few surgeons in the country are trained to complete the gold standard excision surgery, which has an almost 50% lower repeat surgery rate than the national standard of ablation.
Fortunately, Dr. Duane connected me with Dr. Patrick Yeung (of the Restore Center for Endometriosis), who is one of the leading surgeons trained in this special field. I flew to St. Louis, MO, checked into the hospital, and prayed that I’d finally have an answer when I woke up after surgery. It turned out, I was right. I had stage IV endo—to the point that my bowel and my ovary were puckered together so much so that in a couple more months, I may have needed bowel reconstruction. Dr. Yeung told me that I had likely preserved my future fertility by educating myself and searching for answers now, even though I was so young.
I had stage IV endo—to the point that my bowel and my ovary were puckered together so much so that in a couple more months, I may have needed bowel reconstruction. Dr. Yeung told me that I had likely preserved my future fertility by educating myself and searching for answers now, even though I was so young.
Why cycle education matters
I am one of the lucky ones—I received the care I needed, and I’m finally on the path towards healing. But most women in the United States and elsewhere have little knowledge of their cycle health, and have been taught to simply accept their symptoms as normal.
Diseases like endo and PCOS go undiagnosed and untreated every day, simply because there is no widely implemented system set up to teach women the way their bodies are meant to function. Early awareness of menstrual tracking, biomarkers, and red flags that should be brought to a knowledgeable healthcare professional’s attention could not only save our daughters’ future ability to have kids, but also avoid years of unnecessary suffering.
If there’s anything I’ve learned from all this that I want to share, it’s this: Our cycles are not a curse that need to be suppressed and controlled! They are designed to help us understand our overall health and ground us in the dignity of our design as women. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, seek out second opinions, and fight for true education on reproductive health. Or better yet, start a Cycle Mindfulness Club at your university and be the one helping young women like me get the education and care they deserve.
Our cycles are not a curse that need to be suppressed and controlled! They are designed to help us understand our overall health and ground us in the dignity of our design as women. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, seek out second opinions, and fight for true education on reproductive health.
