From PCOS to periods to birth to exploring the mother-daughter relationship, how we do grapple with our firsts? Dive into our FIRST issue to see how we do it!
The11SecondsMagazinewasbornoutofalove forstorytelling.Myownloveforitstartedwhen Iwasjustseven(myfirststory!)wheremeand mypinkpenwouldspinstorieslikesugar-spun cottoncandy,sweet,decadent,andfartoofluffy formyowngood.Peopleindulgedmethen, my parents,myfriends,andIhopeI'vechangedmy ways since, be it through hard-hitting news journalism,academicwriting,andasharpened senseofcuriosity.Now,mywritingbegsmeto exploretheinnerworkingsofourrelationships, ouridentities,andourexperiences.Perhapsitis onlymethatletsoutherinnerchildwhenshe writes,butthereissomethingstillsomagicalto meaboutthewrittenword.Ihopeyoufindthat love,too.Mostofall,IhopeIcanmakeyoufall in love with having the tough conversations, andifthatisthroughthismagazine,thenallthe better.
I am so excited to introduce you to the 11 Seconds Magazine's DEBUT Issue, First Things First. In this issue, we dive deep into PCOS, periods, visits to the gynecologist, childbirth, love,sex,andevenwhatitsliketoquestionthe healthcaresystemheadon.Whatdoesitmean to all of us that our firsts are remembered, recorded,andperhapsevenrevered?
Sahana Narayan, Editor-in-Chief
Ipulledmyphoneout.Therewas nothingquiteassatisfyingas goingdownarabbitholeof informationonlytheinternet couldleadyouto,likemyvery ownAliceinWonderland moment.Whatwerepatients reallysayingaboutdoctors?
The11SecondsMagazineisnotinthebusinessofplacing blamewhereitisnotdue;ittakestwototango.Assuch,we hopetostarttheconversationaround...well...thefactthat wearen'thavingoneatall.Ifitonlytakes11secondsfora physiciantointerruptapatient,howquickcanwespark changeinresponsetoit?
Thus,asweembarkonthisjourneytogether,wewillask ourselvesthisquestion:whatcanwedowith11seconds? Now,Idon'tmeantosoundabsurd,as11secondsishardly anytimetodoanything...but,thequestionstillstands.What canwedotogetherwhenitcomestoimprovingour healthcareexperiences? Wecanstartbytellingstories.
Ifoundtheanswertomyquery withaneasethatwouldmake eventhemostactiveYelpusers smile,fasterthanfindingaspot whenyou’restarvingandnota singlepersonyou'rewithis willingtomakeuptheirmind. Amongthemostcommon reasonsforanegativereview, “poorlisteningskills”wasTop5. Infact,studiesshowedthatit onlytookanaverageof11 secondsfordoctorstointerrupt theirpatients. 11seconds.
Howdowelistenbetter?
Coming before all others in time or order
The first occurrence of something notable
Never previously done
I step hesitantly into the darkened delivery room and waver towards the back,uncertainofwhereIbelonginthis important moment of a stranger’s life thatI’vesomehowfoundmyselfapartof. Theroomissurprisinglystillandquiet.I look at the laboring mom laying on her backinthehospitalbedinfrontofme.I don’t know who she is or what her journeyhasbeenupuntilthispoint,but I’m grateful that she has allowed me to behere.
I’m a student volunteer at the hospital andI’minmyfirstrotationonthelabor anddeliveryfloor.I’vebeenonthisfloor foramonthnow,anxiouslyawaitingthe opportunity to witness a birth for the first time. And now it’s happening right before my eyes. The obstetrician hurriedly enters the room, his towering frame commanding the attention of all the staff and triggering them to spring intoaction.Iwatchthenurseshelpwrap thesurgicalgownaroundhimandhand himhisgloves.TheOBtechpullsdowna panel in the ceiling and a massive light appearsoutofthinair,pointingdownon thelaboringmominbed.Theglintofthe shiny surgical tools on the table set up nexttothemom’sbedcatchesmyeyeas
the light reflects off of them. The tools looksharpandconnivingtome,linedup neatly and perfectly on a bright blue surgical drape. I realize I am struck by howmedicalizedthewholebirthprocess is.Itfeelsfoolishtoeventhinkthat,asa supposedaspiringphysicianmyself.But there’s something unsettling about the way the mom in front of me feels reducedtoasingularorganthatneedsa surgeryperformedonit.Itfeelslikethe attention in the room is directed at the hands of the obstetrician, as if he holds the power, when in reality it is the woman lying in bed who is doing the magicalworkofbringingalifeintothis world.
Theactualdeliveryfeelslikeithappens almost instantaneously. One minute momispushing,thenextthebaby’shead isout,andthentherestofthetinybody seems to glide out all at once. After the baby is out and crying gleefully on mom’schest,theobstetriciangetsready to work tools in hand. But first, he asks mom if she would like some pain medication before he begins to sew up her first degree tear. Upon what I thought was mom’s affirmation, one of thenursesrushesoutoftheroomto
fetch the lidocaine for mom. However, before the nurse can return, the obstetricianbeginssewingmomup.The OB tech is standing next to me at this point,andshewhispersinmyear,“right nowhe’ssewingherupwithoutanypain medication,sosheonlyhastheresidual numbness of pushing out the baby to helpher.”IlookatthefaceoftheOBtech and every other woman in the room, wincing in empathy at the sight of the mother. I feel confused by what I am observing. Did mom not want the pain medication? Did she not care? Maybe I heard her incorrectly? What do I know anyways,asalowlyinternwithnoskills orpriorexperience?
AsIwalkedoutofthehospitalthatnight, I didn’t feel the way I thought I might afterwitnessingmyfirstbirth.Ihadseen thecommentsinourgroupforumleftby otherinternsonthefloorwhohadseen births before I did. Their comments always included some rendition of “it was SO beautiful and emotional and magical.” But that didn’t quite resonate withme.IthinkIhadanimageinmind of a more romanticized and dramatic version of birth, that the reality hadn’t livedupto.Ididn’tpictureaquietroom at midnight with a tired obstetrician trudging in, and a confusing aftermath withoutclearconsentregardingthe
mother’swishes.Irecalledhowpriorto the mother’s delivery that night, the nursesweretalkingamongstthemselves abouthowtheyfelttheobstetricianwas “inarush”andtryingtohurrythelabor along, which they felt wasn’t what was best for mom or baby. In the end, the outcome was a healthy mom and baby. So the birth was a success. But still, I walked to my car that night with complex feelings and questions in mind of how maybe the hospital birth experiencecouldbedifferent.Coulditbe moreempoweringforthemother?Could therebelessfocusonandpowerplaced inthehandsoftheobstetrician?Couldit belessmedicalizedinawaythatwasstill prioritizingthehealthandsafetyofmom andbaby? Coulditbebetter?
KylaLaingisarecentcollegegraduatewith a B.S. in Human Biology and an aspiring physician.Shetakesaspecialinterestinthe fieldofObstetricsandGynecologyandhopes toonedaycontributetotheimprovementof this field and empowerment of women in a meaningfulway.Inheressay,Kylaexplores the complex thoughts and feelings she experienced during the first birth she observed.
Birthis,afterall,thebeginningofeverything.So,muchlikethebirthofa baby,thisissueisthebirthofthismagazine.InKyla'sheartfeltessay,she confronts the tumultuous feelings behind witnessing a birth and the powerdynamicsintheroomforthefirsttime.Butmostnotably,shethinks aboutherroleasaspectatorintheroom,duringthemostpivotalmoment for a new life, and whether that means anything at all. Are we not all spectatorsatsomepoint?Aswesitback,readthesestories,andplaywith thesepuzzlepiecesofaperson'slargerstory,wemustalsoaskourselves: whatroledowetrulyoccupyasaspectator?Canwemakeitbetter?
The11SecondsMagazinewantstoaskthetoughquestions,nottodeter conversation, but rather, to encourage it. If we're all in the same boat together,weshouldcareifitssinkingright?So,let'skickoffourjourney together,asspectatorsandadvocates,alike.Aswetraversedeeperintothe relationship between mothers and daughters, we will also explore love, sex,periods,andmore.Together,we'llconstructwhata"first"is.
My first daughter was born during the Los Angeles riots, a time when civil unrest and violence took over the city fornearlyaweek.InlateAprilof1992, racialtensionswererisingandpeople’s angerexploded,followingtheverdictof theRodneyKingtrialwherefourpolice officerswereacquittedafterexcessively beating Mr. King. A massive protest against police brutality and racism began. Hundreds of fires burned throughout the city, as people rioted, lootedstores,andassaultedeachother. Asawaytocontrolthechaos,acity-wide curfewwasmandatedandpeoplewere toldtostayhomefromduskuntildawn. TheNationalGuardwascalledintohelp restore order and guards were even posted outside our favorite neighborhood mall, the Westside Pavilion.Itfeltlikeawarzone,andthen Iwentintolabor.
AsIwatchedthelocalnewsathome,my contractionsbeganandIthought,”How can I bring a new life into this violent worldwe’relivingin?”Iwasscaredon many levels – afraid of the birth and becomingamotherforthefirsttime,not to mention the current situation that surroundedus.Iworriedabouthowwe
would get to the hospital, especially since it was past curfew. I became furtherworriedwhenweweredriving tothehospitalandmyhusbandsaidhe needed to go to the ATM to get some cashforthehospitalparking.WHAT?!I feared that he could be attacked at an ATM(asmanypeoplewereatthattime) and that I would end up having our baby alone in the car. This was before cellphones,sotherewasn’tawaytocall for help. Fortunately, he got the cash without incident and we made it to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Los Angeles was in a state of emergency, which I’m sure affected my state of mind. Somehow I had to find a way to focus on this momentous occasion and thearduoustaskofbringingababyinto theworld.
We discovered that I was only one centimeterdilatedaftermyinitialpelvic exam, which was rather disappointing afterlaboringforafewhoursathome. Inretrospect,Ishouldhavegonehome andcomebacklaterwhenmylaborwas further along, but given the circumstances outside, it seemed safer to stay at the hospital. I would later learnwhenstudyingto
becomeaCertifiedChildbirthEducator anddoulathatIwas“ontheclock”once I checked in to the hospital, which means a woman’s labor is expected to progress at a certain rate. If it doesn’t, then a nurse will intervene and give youPitocintohelpspeedupthelabor.I wish they hadn’t “helped” me in that way, as the drug produced such unbelievably painful contractions that itbecametoomuchformetohandle.I endedupaskingforanepidural,which was something I didn’t want to get whenplanningmybirth.Ihadnoway of naturally managing the pain as I wasn’tallowedtogetoutofbedandhad a fetal monitor strapped to my belly. I felt helpless lying on my back. Being able to walk or change position is crucialwhenmanagingcontractions,as I experienced in subsequent births at home (leaning over a giant birth ball was my favorite position). Soon thereafter I had an epidural and was verygratefulforthepainrelief.
I’m not sure when my doctor showed up.Idislikedmyobstetricianfromthe start. Looking back, I wish I had felt empoweredenoughtochangedoctors.I wasyoungandnaiveanddidn’tthinkit was an option with my insurance. Duringofficevisits,shealwaysseemed dismissiveofmyquestionsorconcerns
andreinforcedthenotionthatIhadno agency when she briefly looked at my birth plan and said she discourages peoplefrommakingthembecauseplans can go awry. Yes, I know that’s a possibility and a healthy outcome for the baby and mother is the most important goal, but the thoughtful choices in my birth plan all stemmed from that idea and supported that outcome.
The many hours I spent researching naturalbirthsandbirthplanswentout the window, as I was hastily dismissed againwithoutanin-depthdiscussion.
She said I was setting myself up for failure. Her words planted a seed of doubtinmybrain.Wouldthisbecomea self-fulfilling prophecy? I was defeated from the beginning, even before I had begunlabor.Hernegativityseepedinto thecrevicesofmyinsecuritiesandpart ofmestartedtobelieveIwasafailure and silly for even making a plan. She was the professional, after all. I knew there was no guarantee of having the ideal birth I had envisioned, but it wouldhavemeanteverythingtometo have a supportive labor professional whorespectedmywishes.
WhenIwasinlabor,Ithinkapartofme
wasafraidtoletmybabygetdelivered bysomeoneIdidn’tfullytrust.MaybeI was also afraid to have my baby leave my warm safe womb for the scary and chaotic world around us. My subconscious was probably influencing myphysiologymorethanIknewatthe time. My mind was perceiving danger and my body didn’t know how to deal with this added stress. The relentless contractions, being sleep-deprived, and being without food and water for over 24hoursweretakingtheirtollonme.I had an IV that was supposed to be providing hydration but later learned that it wasn’t working correctly. I was physically enduring an enormous amount of work, especially when pushing and I was SO thirsty. I was dehydratedandwasn’tallowedtodrink any water, only frickin’ ice chips (hospital policy in case you have an emergency c-section and accidentally inhale your vomit while under general anesthesia).Mybodywasshowingsigns of stress, which meant the baby was showingsignsofstressandIknewIhad togetherout.
Somehow I found the strength and pushedfor2.5hours.Itwasthehardest thing I’ve ever had to do and our beautiful baby was born at last. However,thestressfromthelaborhad causedhertohavemeconiumaspiration
and she wasn’t breathing. A team of doctors swarmed into my room and whisked her away to the NICU. I didn’t evengettoseeorholdmybaby.Shewas in critical condition and had to be intubatedandputonarespiratorforthe first24hoursofherlife.Wehadtoleave thehospitalthenextdaywithoutherand myheartbroke.Shewouldspendaweek intheNICU,wherewevisitedherallday and I was able to nurse her and bond. Ourbabywasafighterandhercondition improvedenoughthatshegraduatedto the less severe room of the NICU and thenmadeittothenexttieracoupleof days later. At last, on my first Mother’s Day, we were able to take home our beautiful baby girl! That was the happiestdayofmylife.Thesunwasout, the riots were over and it was a whole newworldfilledwiththeimmenselove wehadforournewbaby. wasanxiousto makeupfortheroughstartshehadand couldn’t wait to shower her with love andattentionathome.
While medical intervention may have saved our baby’s life, I also think unnecessary medical intervention may have caused problems in my labor and delivery. We were lucky that our baby survived, many don’t. Immediately following her birth, I was traumatized and sad to think that I could never go throughthatagainandwouldn’tbe
having any more children. Fortunately, timehealswounds,astheysay.Inever hadanotherhospitalbirth,butIwenton tohavethreehomebirths,supportedby a wonderful midwife, and felt truly empowered. Loving my babies healed myheartandthrougheducatingmyself and becoming a certified childbirth educator and doula, I was able to help other women have the births they envisioned.Itwasverycatharticforme to attend births and support women andtheirpartnersatthesamehospital whereIgavebirth,beingtheiradvocate and ensuring they had a positive birth experience.Mywishisforallwomento feel empowered in their childbirth choices, by listening to their inner voices, speaking up, and letting their voicesbeheard.
My firstborn not only survived but thrived.Whenshewasababy,Iwasin awe of her curiosity, intelligence, and zest for life. As a grown woman, I admire her for being a great leader in our family by showing her younger siblings how to navigate the challenges ofadulthoodwithhumorandwisdom.I know she will make smarter choices than I did when she lives out her own beautiful birth story with her husband someday. I remind her that labor is painfulbutit’spainwithapurpose,
Liz Laing is a freelance writer and single mother of four who recently earned her Bachelor’sdegreeinUrbanStudies&Planning from UC San Diego. Liz has worked as a CertifiedChildbirthEducatoranddoula,travel writer, realtor and marketing manager. She’s nowaCommunityPlannerfortheNavyinSan Diego. In her heartfelt essay, Liz shares her first birth experience emphasizing the importanceofself-empowerment.
a beautiful purpose, and to never lose sightofthis.
IntheMothers&Daughterssectionofthisissue,notonlyarewefeaturingpieces discussingtherelationshipatallagesandstages,beitduringbirthorthrough difficultdecisions,buttwoofourauthors,LizandKyla,aremotheranddaughter themselves.Aswecontinuetodisentangletherelationshipbetweenmotherand daughter,asonethatisperhapscentraltogirlhoodandmotherhood,wemustask ourselves:whatdoesitmeantobeamotherandwhatdoesitmeantobeadaughter?
Whilewecan'tanswerthatquestionforyou,thestartofthismagazinemakesme thinkofmyownrelationshipwithmymother,asmybestfriendandmybiggest cheerleaderandthestoryofmyownbirth.Whatdoyouthinkof?
Tweetyouranswers@11secondsmag.
"The moment a baby is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before." Rumi
BaileyMerlinisawriterandbi+activistwithabackgroundinmedia,medicine,andhealth Sheholds an MFA from Butler University and an MS from Harvard Medical School, and her writing has been publishedinliterarymagazinessuchasTheLascauxReview,ellipses...,HoneyfireLiteraryMagazine, BanditFiction,Anti-HeroinChic,ChantwoodMagazine,DrunkMonkeys,DimeShowReview,Streetlight Magazine,IntotheVoid,amongothers.BasedinBoston,Baileylivesinanintentionalcommunitywitha dynamic cast of humans, a toddler, a dog, a cat, and a friendly ghost. You can find her work on baileymerlincom
Rose Monet P. Little is a dependable and advocacy leader with the ambition to provide quality and inclusivehealthcommunicationwithinaclinicalandcommunityhealthcareenvironment.Asacurrent PublicHealthgraduatestudent,shehasastrongdesiretolearnandexplorenewopportunitiesinhealth and medical systems She is a person who strives to expand health education and improve access to qualitycarewithinunderservedcommunitiesinvariousoutreachprograms.
“Honey! She’s here! Look at her!” My husband was breathless, tears on his cheeks,asthetinypurplecreaturethat was our daughter was placed on my chest. She promptly lifted her head to lookaround,mewinglikealostkitten,as I placed my arms around her. I was happy she was there, but I was distracted.
I was distracted, reveling in the incredible ecstasy that followed my unmedicated birth, like a double rainbow that followed a hurricane. Every person has their own hopes for labor,andit’sneveraguaranteethatit will go as we hope, but I had decided earlyinmypregnancythatIwouldtryto give birth without pain meds. I wanted to feel what my body was capable of. Andoh,didIeverfeelit.
When I had started to have regular contractionsaround2AMthatmorning, Iwasthrilled.Excited.Nervous.Idozed on and off until I couldn’t sleep anymore, then puttered around the apartment doing last-minute cleaning and bouncing on a yoga ball. My husbandandIwatchedseveralhoursof KillingEvewhileIrolledontheballand
breathedthroughthepains.Ihadread about groaning cake and decided to make groaning cookies. I mixed the batter and put it in the refrigerator, intendingtocutandbakethemafterit chilled. But around 5 PM, I noticed a shift.Icouldn’tpayattentiontoSandra Ohwhenthecontractionscame.Iwasn’t laughing at my husband’s jokes. The painwasgettingmoreintense.
Ihelpeddeliverfortybabiesduringmy familymedicinetraining,soIdidwhat any normal person would do at that point.Icheckedmycervix.Itwasopen, though I couldn’t tell how far. I might notbakethosecookiesafterall.
“Ithinkit’stime,”Itoldmyhusband.
“Are you sure?” he asked, “You’re still tenminutesapart.”
“Yeah, but it’s getting more painful. I wanttoknowifI’mmakingprogress.If I’m only two centimeters dilated, I wouldconsidersomepainmeds.”
As we navigated the bumps and potholes of Los Angeles side roads, the contractionsbecamemoreintense.
I gripped the handle on my side of the car and put on a playlist I used for exercising. I’m a singer as well as a doctor, so I did my best to sing along throughthecontractions,tokeepmyself breathing.
“You’re gonna hear me roooaoaarrrrrrrrrr!!!”
Truer words were never spoken. When we finally arrived at the hospital, we wereinformedthatthelabortriagewas full.Theyaskedmetowaitdownstairs.I was decidedly uncomfortable at this point,andthebestpositionIcouldfind was on my hands and knees, rocking back and forth on the couch in the waiting area and groaning through the pain,whilemyhusbandparkedthecar.I felt like an animal. Powerful. A little scary.Primitive.
“You can do this!” A couple of older womencheeredmeon,smiling.
The 25-year-old security guard, however,wasnotasconfident,ormaybe just didn’t want to deliver the baby himself,andwalkedoverasmyhusband camebackin.
A minute later, an aide with a wheelchairtookmeupstairs.Thenurse lookedatme,listenedtomysymptoms andnodded.
“Alright.We’lltakealook.Butalotof first-time moms have to go home and comeback,andifyourcontractionsare ten minutes apart, it’s probably too early.” She wrote some notes down on thecomputer.“Whatdoyouwanttodo forpainmeds?”
“I’mhopingtodoitwithoutmeds.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. Well, let’s see what we’vegot.”
She used her gloved hand to check my cervixandhereyebrowswentup,“Oh! You’reactuallyabout…sixcentimeters. Okay.You’restaying.”
I was relieved. This was active labor. That made the pain more bearable. After that, we were moved to a room, andIwasgratefultobeoutofthebright light of the triage. My husband attempted to set up the birthing kit he hadpacked–essentialoils,fairylights, andaplaylist.
“Er,Ma’am,I’vecalleduptothefloorto letthemknowyouneedtobeseen.”
“No!” I barked whenever his hand left myback.Igrabbeditandhelditin
place.Thebirthingkitwentuntouched.
Ipaced.Ibouncedonayogaball.Ipaced somemore.Iswayedandgroaned.
“Iwanttogetintheshower.”
Heheldmeasthehotwatersoothedmy back and I continued to groan through thecontractionswithavicegriponhis shouldersandhands.Thenursecamein to check on me and I climbed onto the bed on my hands and knees. After she left,Ifeltagushoffluid.Shecamebacka fewminuteslater.
“Ithinkmywaterjustbroke.”
“Yeah,alotoftimeswomenthinkthat when it’s just urine. But I’ll check.” While I worked through another contraction,sheusedanitrazineswabto lookforamnioticfluid.
“Oh,you’reright!Itbroke.”
Icontinuedtobreatheandlaboronthe bed, until the contractions started gettingverystrongandverylow.
“Oh, okay. Let’s see. Yup, you are fully dilated,butitdoestakeawhileforthe babytocomedownfarenoughtopush.”
“Okay… but can I try pushing? I really feel like I need to.” I was still able to maintainashredofpolitenessbetween contractions.
“Sure,” her face was difficult to read. Thenextcontraction,Ipushedwhileshe feltforthebaby’sheadtocomedown.
“Oh!Wow,thatwasagoodpush!I’llcall the doctor.” I was relieved, excited, nervous, and in a lot of pain, but gratefulitwouldendsoon.
Suddenly, the lights came on, interruptingourintimatelittlebirthing cave. The doctor and nurse bustled in, gownedandmasked.Apediatricnurse I’d never met also came in and went overtothebaby’swarmingstation.
“Heythere.Ineedyoutorollontoyour back and get into the stirrups,” my doctor announced as another contractionmovedthroughme.
“I feel like I have to push,” I told my husband,thenthenursewhenshecame in.
“Wait. I thought we agreed I could try delivering on my side…” I was scared andfrustratedwhilerollingontomy
back as instructed. The pain was decidedly worse in this position. I squirmedasthenurseputmyfeetinthe stirrups.
“If you do, I won’t be able to prevent tearing.”
At that moment, a huge contraction washed over me, and I lost what little civilityIhadleft.
“You’repissingmeoff,Doc!”Iyelled.
Thecontractionpassed.
Therewassilence.
“OhmyGod,I’msosorry,”Istammered, people pleasing through my pain. “My biggest fear about this labor was that you’dgetmadatme.”
Hereyebrowsshotup.
“That was your biggest fear?” I didn’t elaborateonhowitwasconnectedtoa fear of not being able to advocate for myself, of being ignored or rushed into proceduresortreatmentsIdidn’twant. She didn’t say anything else, but she movedmyfootoutofoneofthestirrups soIcouldshiftoffmyback.
I tried to push and got lightheaded. I tried again with the next contraction, and again, blackness seeped in around theedgesofmyvision.Istartedtopanic.
“I don’t know what to do, I don't know whattodo!Idon’twanttopassout!”My eyes searched the room, looking for help.
“In all the deliveries I’ve done, I have never seen anyone pass out while pushing.”Mydoctor’svoicewaseven.
“You need to change where you’re trying to push and focus the energy right down here.” I felt her hand press “down here.” The next contraction, I took a breath and pushed, and felt the difference.Ifeltthebabymovedown.I screamed.
“Ican’tdothis.Ithurtssomuch!Ican’t do it. I don’t want to. It hurts so bad. Please!”
I searched again for someone to help, andmyhusbandsteppedin.
“You got this, Honey. You can do this.”
He locked eyes with me, and I pushed again.Ifelttherippingsearingburning shatteringtearingapartasmy
daughter’s head pushed through. I wanted to climb the walls to get away fromthepain.
“Youcandothis.Yougotthis.”Hisface was in front of mine, filling my vision withhiseyes.Itookanotherbreath.
Ipushedagain.
“Small pushes. You’re almost there,” directedthedoctor.Myentirebodywas on fire, white-hot screeching pain that roaredinmyearsandmadeeverything else fall away. And then, suddenly, abruptly,sharply.Itstopped. “She’sout!”declaredthedoctor.
My body began to buzz. I heard my daughtercry.Iknewshewasokay.The absenceoftheworstpainofmylifeleft the most incredible tingling, floating, glowing,ecstasy.
“I did it!” A smile filled my mouth and mycheeksburstopen.“Ican’tbelieveI f***ing did it!” I wanted to sing and dance. I wanted to leap. I wanted to collapse. I was euphoric. I repeated myself and looked around the room at thestrangerswhohadcomein,“Ididit! Ican’tbelieveIf***ingdidit!”
hand,asthedoctorplacedthebabyon my chest. She was warm and wrinkled with bottomless black eyes, and short, uncoordinatedmovements.Idrapedmy arms around her, elation filling my bodyathavingachievedsomethingthat wasbothsoordinaryandsoprofound. After delivering the placenta and repairing a small tear, the doctor nodded, saying, “Congratulations!” and left.Alittlewhilelater,thenursecame inagain.
“I can’t believe I did it!” I said to her again.Mycheekshurtfromsmiling.My bodyfeltlikewarmrubber.
“Yeah.Youknowmostpeoplewhocome insayingtheydon’twantmedsendup askingforthem.I’mimpressed.Icame intocheckonyoubutyoutwoseemed tohavesuchagoodhandleonthings,I didn’tthinkyoureallyneededme.”
I considered this, then asked if I could getoutofthebed.
Myhusbandwascrying,rubbingmy
“Uh, well, just wait.” She checked my vitals and pushed on my stomach. Everything was fine. I could get up. I was so happy to be able to walk and movecomfortably.Anothernursecame inwithaspecialpostpartum
wheelchair.
“Icanwalk,”Isaid.
“Oh,Iguesswedon’tseealotofwomen whocanwalkrightafter…butbetteruse the chair just to be safe.” I sat in the chair while she rolled me to the postpartumfloor.
IfeltlikeIcoulddoanythingafterthis.
Evenbeaparent.
That first night is a blur of attempts to breastfeed,sleep,andusethebathroom. Thenursescamein,againandagain,to help with breastfeeding and pain. Slowly,thenumbnessofthebirthwore offandwasreplacedbythedullacheof muscles and tissues that had worked their hardest for an entire day. I appreciated the frozen maxi pads and Dermoblast and those stretchy, cotton underwear.
The next morning, I went to the bathroomasthebabyandmyhusband slept. When I came out of the room, I looked at the two of them in the soft, grey light. He was on the couch, curled upunderablanket,exhausted.Shewas in the hospital bassinet a few feet in frontofhim,bundledupinaswaddle
andhat,hertinyfacepeaceful.
I felt a wave of love wash over me, so powerful it made me gasp. I looked at this new family I had just birthed and realized that I would do anything for thesetwopeople.Ihadfeltloveformy baby while I was pregnant, having secretconversations,singingsongs,and communicating through kicks and pokes. But this was the first time I felt that well of infinite love that is motherhood. I would love her forever, no matter what, and I knew it all at once,witheverycell,everyatomofmy body.Ibegantocry,thekindofmessy, snotty cry that other people should never witness. I gazed at my daughter. Herexistencewasrightintheworld.
Asharpknockonthedoorinterrupted myadoration.
“I need to take blood,” came a loud voice. A short, no-nonsense lab tech burst in and proceeded to tell me, as I wiped the boogers off my face, that no she could not come back later because she needed to stab my precious child withaneedletodrainherofherbodily lifeforce,andsheneededtodoitnow.
I begged her to give us a few minutes, butsherefused.Thebabybegantofuss,
andmyhusbandwokeup.
WhereIhadjustbeenfeelingmyheart burst from the love that filled it, I now felt aching dread. My baby! She was going to stab my baby with a giant needleandmakeherbleed!Shewasn’t evenadayoldyet!Iconsideredstabbing the tech instead but decided that was probablyapoorchoice.
I held my baby’s hand as the tech insertedatinyneedleintoherheel.My childletoutapitifulwailandIbeganto sobagain.ItwasallIcoulddotowaitfor the woman to collect the blood she needed. She had barely put the top on the vial before I grabbed my daughter andpulledherclosetome.
ThetechleftandIclutchedmybabyto my chest, shushing and swaying. She settled quickly (the blessing of a short memory). My husband looked at us, smiling.
"Youokay?”
“Yup. Yeah.” I wiped my face and sniffled,lettingoutahalf-heartedlaugh. WouldIeverbeokayagain?
I realized something deep, mysterious, andunknowablehadopenedupinme.I hadfeltthebirththedaybeforewithmy body.Now,Ifeltthelovewithmyentire being.
My husband, my daughter’s father, huggedusbothclose.
Francesca Decker is the mom of two amazing kids and a family doctor, M.P.H., writer, and former actor/singer in L.A. She enjoys exploring the human aspects of medicine,andtheintersectionsofhealthwith policy,education,andentertainment.Youcan see more of her work at wwwahumandoctorcom
Ramya Chunduri is an amateur animator and illustrator who engages in artistic storytelling and advocacy for health problems such as domestic violence within the South Asian community. She is also a non-profit entrepreneur, psychotherapist, and clinical social worker.
While Dr Decker explores her relationship with her daughter, and the overwhelming, staggering, life-changing love she felt for her as a new parent, Ramya shares how the idea of "love" itself changes between generations. What about that very first time? Does love feel like giddy laughter and shy smiles? Is love just a set of sleepy sundays and running errands and sharing the mundane? How can the way we view love, from our parents, all the way to our relationships change over time? Let's take a small detour to Emily Davis' piece, trivia(l) to see if we can answer that question.
I don’t even look around on my way insidebecauseIdidn’twanttolooklike anewbie;itwasn’tmyfirsttimemeeting youherefortrivia.Ihadalreadypaused outside the bar for a deep breath because I wanted to make sure no one knew I was nervous. I kept walking down the corridor until I reached the bar with the lipped edge that made it both difficult to slide drinks off and awkward to rest your arms. I dangled mine haphazardly by my side, hoping thatthevoiceIheardcomingupbehind me wasn’t Leo. The smell of musty vintage-store corduroy confirms it, though,andIknowhe’swalkingbehind me walkingtoyou.Ihearhisbootson the ground, unequal but sure, walking with either hesitation or a slight limp. Hisconfidenceisnotinquestion,butit wouldn’tbeformeifIownedtheplace.I stillcan’tbelievehedoesn’thavehair.
“Brooklyn Lager?” about the only twowordsIcouldhearrightnowother than your name. I smile feebly, as confidence hasn’t ever been my strong suit.Iammoreofaheartskindofgirl.I laughatmyownjoke,andslidemyreal cardacrossthebarclumsily,
forgettingaboutthelipthatIhadjustso recently clocked. I close my eyes for a second, knowing that I’ll open them to you talking to him, with jokes of your own,hishandtouchingyourshoulder:a tacit agreement that you’ll reunite in a few hours when you both have had a few drinks. I open them to see him walking back by me unknowingly smirking.
You don’t see me immediately because your eyes are still fixed on the door as he fades beyond the frame. I try to break your mesmerized glance with a wave, a “hey, long time no see”, and a smirkofmyowntomakeitseemlikeI haven’tspentthelasttwohoursmissing you. You laugh it off and glance at the door one more time, noting it has only been a few hours. I swallow my follow up.
Youpickedatableinthebackroom.The rooms get progressively darker, facilitated by both the paint tone and the burnt-out light bulbs. It smells like cigarettes in the corner and there’s a roughspotonthetablerightwheremy kneekeepshitting.Thetable’sabittoo shortbutIcouldn’taskyourfriendon
the end to move over a bit. If I’m anything, I’m “go with the flow.” The door to the patio opens every few minutes,asindecisivepatronsgoinand out as they choose their poison: the 28degreeJanuarynightversusthepromise of another drink. Every time the wind bringsinagustofcoldair,anditchills you,andyoupullyourscarffurtherover your formerly bare shoulders. I offer youmyjacket,butyoupolitelydecline.
I try not to stare at the lace that’s crossingyourchest.Youlookbeautiful,I say.Lovetheoutfit,addingtodiverthow realthatcomplimentfelt.Yousmileand shrugitoff,sayingit’snothingbutthank you.IseeyoulookdownandIkeepmy eyes on yours until your glance comes back to equatorial. A million thoughts floodmyhead amillionthingsthatI’ll neversayoutloud.Islidemyphoneout totextmyfriendthethoughtthatkeeps bubblingup.“Dude,I’msoinlovewith this girl.” And she says, “I can tell! I wonder if she knows.” I think for a second.Whatuseisittobehonestiflove istrivial?
Emily Davis is a Southern-born queer writer who loves all types of art and literature, from poems to short stories to longer works of fiction. She is a healthcare providerthatseesherempathyasastrength inconnectingwithpatients,especiallythose who have been historically marginalized. She feels emotions deeply and loves completely. Emily desires to write about love and loss from a less dramatic lens, focusing on the small moments when we realizewearehappyorwearehurting.
Love,inwhatevercapacity,forwhomeverandhowever,isoftenachoice.And,ifyou can'talreadytell,weloveourdefinitionshereatthe11SecondsMagazine.Afterall, thepowerofthewrittenwordoftenextendsbeyondthecrossedt'sanddottedi's, nestinginthenebulousnuancebetweenconnotationanddenotation.
Assuch,whenwereceivedJacki'sbeautifulpoem,whichyou'llfindonthenextpage, weknewwehadtoconsiderthis:whatdoesitmeantochoose?Now,a"choice"is defined as an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.Inherently,anysituationrequiringachoicenecessitatesoptions,foryou toweighandultimatelydecidebetween.
Muchlikethechoicetolovewhoyouwantwasnotalwaysaneasy(orlegal)one,the choicetomakedecisionsaboutyourbodyisnolongeraffordedtousall.OnJune24, 2022,thelandmarksupremecourtcase,Roev.Wade(1973)wasoverturned.Withit wenttheconstitutionalrighttoanabortionandtheabilitytochoosewhatyouwant withyourownbody.Rightnow,thecountryisgrapplingwiththischange,asstates continuetoimplementawidecornucopiaoflaws,asprovidersfleetostateswhere careislacking,andpatientstravelmilesandmilesandmilestoexercisetheirrightto choose. It would be remiss of us at 11 Seconds Magazine, as a Women's Health magazine,tonotacknowledgetheparticularclimatewithinwhichweallcoexistin now.Aswestarthere,together,bytellingourstoriesloudandproud,wehopetoone dayreturntoaversionofourworldwheretherighttochooseisgrantedtoall.
Jacki Huntington is a documentary artist undertaking a long term body of work about abortion stigma Currently, her work involves digging into her first and only experience of abortion in 2017. You can find her on twitter @jackitellsyou and on instagram @jackihuntington
My mom and I are both born in the Chinese Zodiac year of the Tiger. Tiger zodiacs are prophesied to have strong and courageous personalities; they are knowntobecalminthefaceofdanger. AndwhileIinheritedherferocity,Ialso quicklyrealizedIinheritedhercrippling menstrualcramps,too.Atigercanface many predators and prey but can only do so much once their own body is fightingagainstthem.Tobeabletobea powerful hunter, they must first lick theiroldwounds.
My mother has had heavy periods and intenseperiodcrampsforaslongasshe could remember. After she immigrated here from Hong Kong, she learned by thentojustscheduleherlifearoundher periods. No traveling, no important events, no interviews around the week of her period. For at least 2-3 days a month, she would battle nausea, heavy cramps,dizziness,andaheavyflow.The rest of the week she would continue bleeding and weakly attempting to continue with her daily life. From a young age, I learned how to tell Starbucks workers and random bystanderstonotcall911everytimeshe faintedbuttojustcallmyauntieand
giveherawarmcupofwaterinstead.I livedinfearthatshewouldfaintandhit her head in the bathroom, whenever I heardherwakeupinthemiddleofthe night to pee. We kept a bicycle helmet bythetoilet.AndallthewhileWestern doctors told her this was just part of Premenstrual Syndrome (PMS), dismissing her concerns. As her daughter, my first perception of women’shealthwasthatitwasabattle.
Herbattlecametoacatastrophicclimax whenIwasin8thgrade.Shewasatan acupuncturist receiving treatment when he called my uncle saying it was anemergency.Theacupuncturistsaid, “Ithinkshemightdieonthistableifyou don’t take her to the ER right away.”
Onceshewasadmittedtothehospital,it was discovered she had an ovarian fibroid, which is basically a benign tumorthatwassuckingupallherblood. She was fighting a leech within her.
Throughout the process of surgery and treatment, I soon realized how broken the healthcare system is especially for immigrants.Despitethefactmymother was an educated woman and fluent in English,theproviderspreferredtalking tome,atwelve-year-old,becausemy
English was accent-less. The lack of respectandcontinuousdismissalofmy mother’svoiceandstoryresultedinthe disasteroffindingafibroidyearslater. ThiswaswhenIhadmyfirstperception of the American healthcare system and whatitislikeforimmigrants.
After watching my mother, my own menstrual firsts started. My first bleed, my first cramps, and my first time fainting from the pain. But after watching my mother’s fight, I had new tactics. When my own primary care physician dismissed the pain of PMS, I demandedmoresolutions.Iwasfinally prescribedbirthcontrolpillsandstarted my own battle of balancing the period managementandthesideeffects.While I’m still on the journey of figuring out the best period management option, I have also become hyper-aware of my chance of fibroid development; I’ve learnedtoadvocateformyselftogetthe ultrasoundsortestsIneed.
With my mom pioneering women’s health battles, I’m able to pursue a master’s degree in Public Health and upliftotherunheardwomen.
Iamatenacioustigerwho’sroarwillbe heard.
Tara Nash (she/her/hers) is a graduating Master'sinPublicHealthstudentatColumbia UniversityintheDepartmentofSociomedical Sciences with a focus on Public Health ResearchMethods.Duringherundergraduate timeatUCBerkeley,shehadvariousrolesin healthcare-related fields while focusing on advocacy in immigrant communities. She works currently as a Chef Instructor and Assistant for the Sylvia Center to help teach nutritiontounderservedNYCyouth.Shealso is the current Miss Queens 2023 and is competingforMissNewYorkthisJune!
WhenIwas9,Igotmyfirstperiod.My mumexplainedthatitwasacelebration, it meant I was fertile! However, I soon realized that this time of the month would only bring anxiety, pain and suffering to my life. I spent weeks clutching hot water-bottles until my stomach turned red, vomiting and drowninginpainkillers.WhenItoldmy father about the pain he told me that: ‘womenarealwayssooverlyemotional, they cry about everything’. My mum went on to reassure me the pain was normal, hers disappeared after childbirthandmineprobablywouldtoo. Ijustneededtohangonuntilthen.The schoolnursesagreedandexplainedthat I should always carry painkillers with me,especiallyduringexamperiods,just incase.
But,Iwasscaredtoseeadoctor.Whatif they gave me “the pill" and I gained weight? - I thought. What if I became depressedoranxious,oranyotherside effect on a list so long it could be a duvet? They could give me an IUD or implant, and I’d already heard the horror stories about those from the internet and from some of my friends whohadthem.Howtheyareinserted
withnoanesthesia,theterriblecramps thatgoonforweeksafter...
Eventually, the pain became unbearable.Myfriendsforcedmetocall my GP. They warned me, urged me to researchmysymptomsandprovidethe doctoralistofpotentialailmentsupon arrival, otherwise they wouldn’t take meseriously,especiallyifheweremale. So, I turned to google. Was it PCOS?
Cervical cancer? A burst ovarian cyst? Was I dying? What if I just had a low pain threshold? Was it normal? Am I beingdramaticlikemydadsaid?Ispent 25% of the next ten years in excruciatingpain,wonderingwhatwas wrongwithme.
Last year, I was diagnosed with endometriosis.
Endometriosisisadiseasewheretissue similartotheliningoftheuterusgrows outsidetheuterus,causingpainand/or infertility. Endometriosis affects roughly 10% (190 million) of reproductive age women and girls globally, however it is often misdiagnosedasPCOSorirritablebowel syndrome(IBS).
My doctor explained that it is often misdiagnosed or ruled out unless specifically brought to their attention because it is often too difficult to judge whether period cramps (the main indicator of endometriosis) are as painful as they are made out to be, as eachwoman’spainissoindividualized.
The label didn’t really change much. I wasprescribedapillandmysymptoms went away, but they told me to come back when I turned 21 so they could check my progression. They said if the pain ever comes back, I should email a clinician and they’ll be able to provide me with a doctor’s note to excuse me fromworkorschool.
Most women go through excruciating pain everyday and do not have an excuse.Anexcusetomissschool,takea day off work or see a doctor, because pain accompanying periods is ‘normal’. Something we, as women, should all expectandbepreparedfor.Astandard taught and set by men who have never experiencedmenstruation,continuously perpetuated by the miseducation of female anatomy, leading to misunderstanding and misdiagnosis. A cycle that needs to be stopped in order for women to gain control over their bodies.Theresponsibilityisonceagain
individualizedtowomen,toknowtheir bodies, their symptoms and even their potentialdiagnosesbeforeevenseeinga doctor.Instead,Ibelievethereneedsto beastructuralsystematicchangewhere the female anatomy and experience withthesediseasesisproperlyincluded in sex education classes in school and university, so cramps are not ‘downplayed’, and women’s suffering stopsbeingdisregardedbydoctors.
Alex Epshtein is a final year student at King'sCollegeLondon,studyingGlobalHealth andSocialMedicine.Whileatuniversity,their eyeswereopenedtotheworldofreproductive healthcare and the gender driven research gapwithinthefield.Theyhavededicatedtheir degree to researching and studying potential policies to alleviate this inequality, focusing on topics ranging from biotechnology to neuroscience. This piece is a glimpse into theirpersonalstrugglewithinthefield.
The first time I was told I may never be abletohavekids,Iwas13.It’sabityoung to be thinking about having any, but surprisingly it was an unexpectedly monumental moment for me. I can’t remember exactly how my pediatrician told me…had she been flippant? Kind? Reassuring or absolute? I guess it didn’t matter, because I was 13 and all I remember was the feeling of a door closing.
I’dstartedpubertyearlierthanmostofmy friends,havinghadmyfirstperiodaround the age of 10, and at first it was very dependable. Every month, no worries aboutit.Butafterthefirstyearthingsgot less predictable, and the combination of these missed periods and my more-thannormalhairgrowthledmypediatricianto begin the screening process to diagnose me with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOSforshort).Iwaslucky,inaway.So manywomenwithPCOSgoundiagnosed.I was lucky enough to have a doctor who recognized the signs. And yet, in some ways, being diagnosed so early was difficult;unlikegenerationsbefore,Ihad accesstoGoogle.
ifyouhavePCOS,ifyoudon’tgetperiods naturally,youprobablycan’thavekids.I learned about what miscarriages were, how much pregnancy affects the body, andIthought“ifpregnancyissoextreme andpainfulfornormalpeople,won’titbe worseforme?”
Theinternetagreedwithmydoctor
Looking back, I don’t know if I actually processedthesadnessthatcamewiththat information. Teenagers have a remarkable ability to make decisions without thinking about why they’re makingthem,andIdecidedthenthatifI probablycouldn’thavekids,Ididn’twant them. I spent the next 7 years telling anyone who asked that I planned to become someone with a career, somethingthatwouldtakeupallmytime and keep me busy, and that I simply wouldn’thavetimeforkids.ThatIreally wantedtobeanauntoneday,butnota mother, even though I was always the firsttogetexcitedtobabysitorplaywith kids. I became attached to the idea of workingtoimprovethefostercaresystem (How?Noclue,Iwas13andbelievedthe world would change by my saying so) because it made no sense to have kids whentherewerekidswhoneededhomes already.
Iamendlesslygratefulforhavinghada doctorwhodiagnosedmeearly,becauseI wasabletogrowupwithan understandingofthethingsthat mademedifferentatatimeinmylife wheredifferencesweren’tcelebrated. It wasawkwardbeingtheonlysixthgrader whohadenoughhairtogetthreaded,or beingthefreshmaninhighschoolwho hadtowearlongpantsatPEtoprotect herselffromsundamageaftermyfirst timegoingthroughlaserhairremoval treatment.Knowingwhy,andbeingable tostudythecause,gaveme understandingofmyselfandwasthe sparkthatignitedmyinterestinbiology andwomen’shealth,whichIstillhave today.
Andyet,nowthatI’molder,Ifeelsadness fortheyoungermewhogaveupona futurebecauseshethoughtitwas impossible.Iregrethavinghadthatmuch informationavailabletome.BecauseI hadmadethatdecisionaboutmyselfso young,itbecameapartofmethatwas ingrainedtothepointofinfluencingmy choiceofcareerpath,myprospective romanticlife,andmyunderstandingof myself.IncollegeIranfullspeedata careerinmedicine,socertainthatI wouldn’thavetoworryaboutbalancinga difficultjobwithafamily.AndwhenI
begantoquestionmybeliefthatIdidn’t want kids, it changed the way I viewed somuchofmylife.
Iamnotthatmucholderorwiser,butI am no longer so certain, and I know more now than I did then. Now I’m closertothestageinlifewherethinking about my future family makes more sense,andIcandosowithmorenuance. NowIknowthatwomenwithPCOScan have kids, and that the door was never reallyclosedtome.Thoughitmaybea differentjourneythanotherwomen,it’s far from the impossibility I once imagineditwouldbe.
Reeya Shah is a recent grad figuring out where to go next. She's been involved with PCOSresearchforthelast5years,andhasa keeninterestinunderstandinghowourhealth experiences and our identities intersect and affectoneanother.
Sittinginbed,curledupinexcruciating painfrommymenstrualcramps,Ifound myselffacedwithadifficultdecision.Do IsuckitupandgotoworklikeIalways have,ordoIlistentomybodyandtake the day off? For years, I had struggled withthisdecision,dreadingtheprospect of having to explain my absence to my boss and colleagues. But on this particularday,somethingshiftedinside me.IrealizedthatIcouldn'tkeephiding my period and suffering in silence - it wastimetostandupformyrighttotake careofmybody.
And so, I mustered up the courage to haveatoughconversationwithmyboss. IexplainedtohimthepainIwasin,and howitwasaffectingmyabilitytowork.I toldhimthatIneededtotakethedayoff torestandrecover,andthatIhopedhe wouldsupportmeinthisdecision.Itwas a nerve-wracking conversation, but to my surprise, my boss was understanding, not empathetic, but he understood. This conversation was a turning point in my life. It made me realizethatIhadthepowertoadvocate for my menstrual health and stand up for my right to take care of my body.
Fromthatdayon,Ibegantochangethe
way I worked and planned my life aroundmymenstrualcycle.Istartedto track my period and plan meetings, events, and activities accordingly. I madesuretotakebreakswhenIneeded them and to prioritize self-care during myperiod.
But I didn't stop there. I also started to beanadvocateformyperiod,anything from saying the word “period” in meetingstosharingmyexperiencesand struggles with my colleagues and friends. I talked openly about my menstrualcycleandencouragedothers todothesame,withorwithoutshame. And to my surprise, many of them began to share their own stories and experiences. It was a revolution - we were breaking free from the cycle of shame and taboo surrounding periods andembracingourmenstrualhealth.
Soon enough, I had colleagues and friends sharing that they were starting to be more open about their periods, andtheliberationthismadethemfeel. They were no longer hiding in shame, but instead were empowered to take control of their menstrual health and advocateforthemselves.Weeven
startedtousethephrase"freetheflow"aplayonthe"freethenipple"movement - to describe our new-found sense of empowerment.
Many women face stigma and discrimination when seeking medical care for menstrual-related issues. We needed to work to break down these barriers and create a world where menstrual health was prioritized and celebrated. Through my journey to menstrualempowerment,Ilearnedthat our periods are not something to be ashamed of. They are a natural and beautiful part of our womanhood, and we should be proud of them. By changing the way we view our periods and advocating for better menstrual health,wecanbreakfreefromthecycle ofshameandtaboosurroundingperiods andcreateaworldwhereallwomenare empowered to take control of their bodiesandtheirhealth.
Myjourneytomenstrualempowerment started with a difficult decisionwhethertogotoworkortakecareofmy body.Butthatdecisionledtoanewway oflife,whereIwasabletoplanmywork and activities around my menstrual cycle and advocate for my own menstrual health. And through sharing myexperiencesandadvocatingfor
better menstrual health, I was able to empowerotherwomentodothesame. Freetheflow,y’all!
Lupita McGregor is a community wellness advocate. She works collaboratively with peopletofindpersonalizedwell-beingtoolsto regaincontroloftheirhealth.Sheiscurrently pursuing a Master's Degree in Psychology at HarvardUniversityandisfounderofastartup focusing on scalable mental-health applications for under served populations. You can find her on instagram @yoga fromtheheart
Lights up on a small girl onstage, openingthesecondactofaplay. After an intense dental surgery simulation, she continues with a monologue, diving into life as a young teenagegirl:intensehormonechanges, discovering the sensuality in her own body,andtalkingaboutherfirstperiod. A vulnerable reveal for any character, especiallyonstage,infrontofaudiences of various ages, genders, and perspectives; but even more shocking when unveiling the setting of this particular play: World War II, 1944, Amsterdam,andyou’reportrayingAnne Frank.
When thinking about hormones, puberty, and periods, historical figures don’t immediately come to mind, especiallyAnneFrank.Likeanyteenage girl, Anne found these experiences exciting, awkward, and downright embarrassing, no matter what the surroundingworldmayhavebeen.But, honestly,isthereanywaytoknowhow she felt about her period, or experiencingtheseshiftsinthebleakest ofcircumstances?Andifyouaresharing herstory,howcanyoudiscoverthisto
best interpret the character? Directly referencingherdiaryisagreatstart,as those who have adapted it into a play did.But,toexploreheremotionally,the question shifts: how much do these changesbotherher,ifatall?Andtolook even further, how did this affect her dailylife?
Tointerpretalltheseideasistheactor’s job. That's me. Hi! I’m Vita Muccia, an actor in the Southern California area, performing in Long Beach Playhouse’s productionofTheDiaryofAnneFrank. I’mplayingAnne,anddiscoveringhow much she wrote and pondered about herchangingbodywasassurprisingto me, as I’m sure it will be to audiences who attend our show. Many audiences come with the ending already fresh in their minds, and focus on the heinous actsthataccompanythisstory,butour genuinejobsasactorsistonot“playThe End.”
Whatdoesthismean?Here’safewgreat examples: Why did audiences flock to Titanic?Itwasn’tbecausewewantedto seetheboatsink.Yes,weallknewhow it was going to end, but we were engagedbythehopethatJackandRose
may live, may get off the boat, and the relationship they created. Once Upon a TimeinHollywoodwasoneofthemost anxiousfirstviewingexperiencesI(and many others) have had. Everyone is nervouslyawaitingtheending,andhow horrendous it may be, assuming one of the world’s most gruesome directors would be nothing but accurate. But again, the actors, and the movie itself, did not play into the audiences expectations. The result? We were all pleasantlysurprised.
This is the same approach myself and my cast must take. No, sadly, unlike Once… this is not a retelling of what couldhavehappenedtoAnneFrank,but rather, a very deep, accurate representation of her diary. But, like these movies, we can’t “play The End”. Yes,Anne’sprodigiouswriting,thestory of the Annex, and what happened to these eight people has made this story incredibly infamous, but sharing what reallyhappenedinsidetheAnnex,those human experiences they had , is our primary goal as actors. To engage an audience, you must reflect humanity back to them. Ergo, do not “play THE END.”
I wanted to find the most innately human experiences she went through. I’ve strived to find a way to bring her character from iconic historical status to just a regular girl; one I and an audience could further relate and sympathize with. Realizing she went through the same hormonal changes, and had the same questions about her changing body as me, but like any teenagegirl,humanizedherforme.
So,that’swhyIhavefocusedsomuchon AnneFrank’smenstrualcycleandbodily discoveries,interestinglyenough.
Every “first” as described by a medical professional happened to Anne in the secret Annex: her first vaginal discharges, first sexual dreams, first “lessons” about the male and female reproductive organs, first hormonal urges, her first kiss (and maybe more, depending on how you read), AND of course, her first menstrual cycle. How do we know this? She wrote about it. These details were kept hidden for about40years,untiltheywerereleased inthemostcompleteformofherdiary inthe1990s.AccordingtotheEditorial History provided in The Definitive EditionofTheDiaryofAYoungGirl,at the time of its original publication, mentionofvarioussexualmatterswere not appropriate to be discussed for books for children, or in this case, written by children. It wasn’t until her father, Otto’s, death that this informationwasreleased,andthediary
As publications of the diary were censored before the 90s, the original version of the play followed the same approach. Appearing on stage in 1955, the play’s first inception, written by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, details vague ideas and stories of what occurred in the attic, careful to shield manyofthemosttriggeringelementsof the show. But, in the 1990s Wendy Kesserman adapted this play based on the updated diary publication. Kesselman included stories, dialogue, and immersive elements directly reflecting the unabridged diary. With Kesselman's updated dialogue, Anne Frank now has multiple monologues about her innermost thoughts, feelings andsexualdesires,includingoneabout the joy of having a monthly cycle. Definitely a different way to approach her character, but I find it effectively and efficiently, encapsulates her humanity. So, as an actor, and a cisgenderedfemale,howdoyoudeliver thismonologuetoanaudience?
This is the exact question that my directorandIhavewrestledwith.First, mydirector,myfellowactorsandIwere all surprised to hear this out of Anne Frank’smouth.Whatwasshethinking? Whyisshesharingthis?
But again, what is so ‘shocking’ about this conversation? Why does this seem too private to share with an audience, eventoday?Isitbecauseitwassotaboo backthen?Becauseithadbeenhidden, butnowreleased?Thesecondquestion was how joyful, excited, and happy Anne seems to be about her period. Fromtheplay’sdialogueandherdiary entries, she seems very excited about the potential of having her period, yearning for the “sweet secret” it seemedtopossess.
AllthatmycastandIcouldthinkabout was how universally UNHAPPY we all wereaboutourperiods.
This really made me think more about myexperience.Asanactor,itisalways easier to pull from your own experience, but this monologue is so different because no one I have ever metwas“excited”abouttheprospectof theirperiod.Nooneinourcasthadany positivestories,andalloftheadjectives used for your period had negative connotationslike,“thecurse”,“thattime ofthemonth",“redbadgeofcourage”or "crimsontide”.
Myfirstperiodstartedwithdebilitating crampsdevelopingwhileIwasrunning in my 6th grade gym class, and this is somethingthathasstayedconstantfor
14years.SomehowIhadandknewhow to use a pad, most likely from the incomparable,TheCareandKeepingof You,andeventhoughIdidn’tbleedyet,I knew this pain was not normal. Unlike Anne, there was not a shed of excitement, just dread and frustration fromthepainIwasfeeling.
WhenImadeithome,theuterinelining had shed, and “the curse” had begun. I showed my mom, and even though she was incredibly supportive, even jumping up and down in excitement, it didn’tfeelexciting.Justareal,ohfuck, here’s the next 40 years of my life. My mom definitely did attempt to bring humor, positivity and support, especiallyafterherfirstexperiencewith her own mother, who literally laughed andbelittledherwiththeretort,“Ha,Ha now you’ve stuck with it too!” Again : this negative connotation that you’re stuck with this “burden” for 50 years, andweallmustgrinandbearit.
Settingasidetheseinterestingreactions, I started thinking of girls who may not know as much about this process, and being genuinely terrified of finding something in their pants, like my best friend.Shewasinformedofherperiod, and had the vaguest idea of what may occur, but when her uterine lining was notatraditionalbrightredtostart,she
was truly terrified that she might be dying because it didn't look “right.” It wasn’t until she got home and spoke withhermotherthatshefeltanysense ofrelief.Buttherearemanyofuswho arestillquiteembarrassedtotalkabout it;therearemorestoriesoffear,terror anddreadthantrueexcitement.
None of these feelings really match Anne’s excitement, and anticipation of having a period, and definitely don’t reflect her joy in experiencing her “sweet secret”. But even trying to read intoherwordsandthecertainwaysshe describes the process makes me question why she was so excited. She talks about how she “can hardly wait” for such a “momentous occasion” but that it’s “too bad I can’t use sanitary napkins [because they couldn’t] get them anymore, and Mama's tampons canonlybeusedbywomenwho’vehad a baby. (66)” I have never, in my life, had to worry about not having the necessary “needs” before my period. I alwayshadapadorcouldgetone,and tryingtowrapyourheadaroundhaving nothingtohelpyououtwiththis,other than maybe rags, does not sound enjoyable to me. Then, to have something at your disposal, like a tampon,butbeunabletouseitfortruly societalreasons….shecouldn’tuseitout offearofrupturingherhymen!
Again, I’m not jumping up and down abouta1940stampon,whichIcanonly imaginewasnotascomfortableaswhat wehavenow,buttonotbe“allowed”to use it from a social stigma that we no longer adhere to is incredibly frustrating,andangering,atleasttome.
I was so bogged down by this archaic perspective, but instead of fighting it, I really had to reevaluate it. I was reminded of this by my fellow cast member. Now for myself, my mother andmybestfriend,weallgotourperiod before or around 12. Anne did not get hers until she was 14 years old, same with my cast member. Like Anne, she expressed how much she really had been waiting for it, how much she just wanted to be like everyone else who’d had it, and always wondered why she wasdifferent.Whydidittakesolongfor her,wastheremaybesomethingwrong?
Though she doesn’t express these emotions exactly, Anne’s motivation behindherwordsisverysimilar.There are themes of longing, anticipation throughout the diary, and especially a senseofpurposewhenshefinallystarts hercycle.
the inside” and unlike in the script, which boils her thoughts to seeing her period as a “sweet secret”, she feels moreintrospectiveaboutthis,believing “WheneverIgetmyperiod…Ihavethe feeling that despite all the pain, discomfort and mess, I’m carrying aroundasweetsecret…so,evenifit’sa nuisance, in a certain way I’m always looking forward to the time when I’ll feel that secret inside me again.” She feels as though it’s leading her into a newchapterorperspectiveonherlife, asawhole.
Anne expresses that “what’s happening to me is so wonderful…not just the changes…ontheoutside,butalso…on
Reading through this again especially away from the dialogue, I feel conflicted,butunderstanding,inaway. Asadiehardfeminist,thinkingthatyou gain purpose from a period is an odd concept for me. I do understand how commonthisidealwasuntilatleastthe 1960s,but,lookingthroughmymodern lens, how can I justify this emotional thoughtprocessformyself?But,looking at this more and more, I really believe Anne’s mind was not exactly finding a purpose but truly of growing up. In a weird way, the only normal reliable connection to real life was the cyclical reminder of her period. It was a remindershewasalive,livingandthis incrediblynormalbiologicalcyclecould continue even in the most extreme circumstances.
She talks often in the diary of what wouldhappenoncethewarended.This was proof of a future, envisioning her experiences,hergrowth,bothphysically and mentally, within herself. I had to remind myself of the only excitement that did actually come from my first period; I was growing up, becoming a grownupwoman,andIwasgoingtobe exposed to new opportunities, experiencesinmylifethatwouldshape meforthebetter.Shewasjustasexcited for the future before her,too. She dreamed about being a writer, embracing a passion that was championed by her family (very similarlytome),excitedaboutwhatlife could be, what she could become, do, andevenfortheideaofwhoshewould meetalongtheway.
The most heart wrenching part of her journey is that she did not fulfill these goals in a way she may have imagined. But,forsomeonelikeme,lookingfroma newlensofhistory,Igettoseehowshe embraced her passion of writing, creating a revolutionary memoir. She found love, genuinely and intimately connecting with another person in one ofthemostunlikelyofplaces,withher fellow Annex member, Peter Van Daan (Van Pels in real life). Yes, she got to experience these things, but not in any wayshewouldhaveinitiallyimagined.
She believed she would make it out, to theendofthewar,andshareherstory, forthatwaswhenherlifewouldbegin. Getting her period signifies all these expectations and the realization that you are growing up, even if she wasn't necessarilywishingforthesheddingof heruterinelining,butfortheworldthat would emerge from the transition of childhoodtoadulthood.
These are all the wants, desires and expectations I think many of us can relate with our transition into adulthood. Granted, I believe she has achievedsomuchmorethanImayhave at 25. I still haven’t found a lot of the thingsshewaslookingfor-asteadyidea of my career, romantic love in any tangibleform,andaconfidenceinwhat Iwantoutoflife,otherthanknowingI lovetoact,andIhaven’tevenbegunto answer how I can do it without starving? But, by portraying this role, Anne has reminded me to hope for every next step of life, even when I barelyhavefaithleftinmyself.Shedid that, in many ways with her diary, but ironicallyforme,throughherjoyofher period.
Anne inspired hope in millions of people after the war, educating them what happened, and why it should neverhappenagain.
Shebroughthopetomillionsofgirls,just with her perspective on life, love and perception of womanhood. She even inspired entrepreneurs to create new advancesinfeminineproductsthatcan help with period pain through CBD, becauseofhowpositivelysheembraced her menstrual cycle. Their perspective was, why can we attempt to be this joyousaboutourownperiodandmake themmoremanageable.
Approaching this period monologue now, it’s about so much more than uterine lining, or a natural biological process. It’s about the possibilities that naturallyebbandflowthroughlife;it’s aboutthemundaneandrelatablethings thatcanstillexistinthedarkestoftimes, andremindsmeofthehopethatweall enterlifewith,andtrytohangontothat hopealongtheway.IfAnne,intheworst possible circumstances that some of us can imagine, is incredibly optimistic, energetic and inspired for what could be,whyshouldn’twe?Oratleast,tryto be.
opportunities. If I take anything of Anne’s with me in the future, that’s it. Bringing up hope, even in the most discouraging of times. I still feel this incredible weight, but even more so, this incredible honor in playing this character. Being able to share these stories with audiences is an extraordinarythrill,buttrulyit’smore inspiring to me each and every day because of her hope. If I can instill an ounce of her hope, and optimism in audiences, and also myself, we will all bebetteroff.
Sure,itallstartedwithafirstperiod,but her excitement and anticipation for what life can bring, even in a midst of chaos, reminds us what the first in anythingcanbelike. Thefirsttime,can yesbeintimidating,butcanbethemost excitingtransitionintosomanypossible
VitaMucciaisanactor,writerandsingerin theSouthernCaliforniaarea.Sheiscurrently portrayingAnneFrankinTheDiaryofAnne Frank at the Long Beach Playhouse from April 8th - May 6th, 2023. Graduate of University of California, San Diego, Vita strivestofindrolesandprojectswithasocial message or meaning, and often pairs her interest in history and dramaturgy when approaching her work. Anne Frank has been anincredibleopportunityforhertoembrace artandhistory,andwritingthispiecewasa perfectblendofthesetwopassions.
IwasnineteenyearsoldwhenIhadmy first sexual experience. I remember it clearly -- I was in bed with my thenpartner. He wanted to explore dominance.Soheforcedmedown,slid his fingers across my vaginal opening, and stared me straight in the eyes. The details get murky afterward, but most importantly, the experience was not consensual.
I grew up in a conservative household where sex or anything related was strictlyforbiddenuntilaftermarriage.I wastoldmoretimesthanIcouldcount thatifIdidanythingthatwasremotely sexual, my body would not be pure anymore. I was encouraged to abstain from sex entirely which meant there wasnoneedtolearnaboutbirthcontrol untilyearslater.Despitethis,Ididwhat any growing teenager would do -- I explored masturbation and eventually dabbled with sexual partners. While I logically knew sex was natural, I couldn’t let go of the all-consuming messages that were previously ingrained in me. To be totally honest, there were moments where I thought I wasahorriblepersonforhavingsexual desires.Ioftenfeltguilty,ashamedof
Devimyurges,andconfusedoverall.Itdidn’t helpthatmyfirstromanticrelationship wasemotionallyandsexuallyabusive.
Someyearspassed,andmyrelationship with my body grew to a bewildering height. I started therapy to work through my trauma with my previous sexually abusive partner and I ultimately found myself in another romanticrelationship,butwithagentle, kind man, who was most importantly notabusive.Yet,somethingdidn’tquite feelright.Icouldn’tcognitivelypieceit together,butanytimewewouldtryand havesex,Iwouldfeelthisunimaginable genito-pelvicpain.Sure,havingsexfor the first time might hurt for some people, but he couldn’t even insert a fingerintomyvagina.Icouldn’tevenfit a tampon in because I’d immediately close up and spasm, and not in a good way.Istayedinthatrelationshipfortwo years and we constantly tried to have sex,butanytimeafingerwouldsomuch as go near me, I felt like I hit a metaphoricalwall.
TheconundrumIfacedwasperplexing: I desired to explore my sexuality and gainadeeperunderstandingofmybody
but despite my earnest efforts, I encounteredsignificantobstacles.
Seekingguidancefrommyprimarycare physician only added to my distress as she attributed my struggles to my psychologicalstate,placingblameonme for my perceived shortcomings, and suggested I either unwind or use lubrication.Iwasovercomewithasense oflonelinessanddetachmentthatIhad not felt in quite some time. It was only later that I discovered the term for my experience: vaginismus, a condition characterizedbyinvoluntaryspasmsof the vaginal canal that result in pain.
Astonishingly, up to 17% of women encounterthiscondition,yetitremains largely misunderstood and overlooked bymanyhealthcareproviders.
Vaginismus is something that I still strugglewithbutovertime,Ihavemade progress in tolerating penetrative sex with a partner who made me feel safe. Through the years, my partner and I cultivated a deep sense of emotional intimacy,whichhelpedmeletgoofthe embodied trauma and shame brought on by my upbringing and my past experiencesthatwereholdingmeback. Whilebuildingemotionalintimacywith a trusted partner can be a helpful approachtoovercomingtheshameand
traumaassociatedwithhavingsex,itis essential that healthcare providers improve their understanding and awareness of vaginismus to support thoseaffected,likeIwishminedid.Devi is a graduate student at Harvard MedicalSchool.
As an On-Scene Advocate at a domestic violence shelter, I saw firsthand the effects of missing sexual education. Jessica walked into the hospital with bruisesinalltheplacesIoncedid.Her black eye, lacerations on her face, and arms, and wrist constraint marks gave me flashbacks of what I buried. She believedwhatwastoldtoher herrape didn’tcountbecauseshewasdrunk.She shouldn’twearshortskirts.Thisiswhat acomprehensivesexualeducationcould have prevented. There should be no grappling with the truth for survivors. No parent should go through the pain when they realize their attempt to protecttheirchildhasfailed.Thesooner werealizethatsexualeducationplaysa key role in preventing sexual assault and intimate partner violence, the sooner we can re-evaluate opt-out policies.
The“MeToo”phrasecoinedin2006,but popularized in 2017 necessitated conversations at public schools around the country about how consent is addressed. Even now, it inspires me to speakopenlyaboutmyownexperience.
Iwassexuallyharassedandassaulted,
and I did not have any sex education until the 11th grade. Opt-out policies continue to prevent comprehensive sexualeducationforallstudents.Asof 2020, 35 states and the District of Columbia allow parents to opt-out on the basis of providing parental autonomy.However,asofAugust2020, only 29 states and D.C. have required that sex education is taught in any capacityatall.
While comprehensive and repetitive sex education is a proven form of violence prevention and harm reduction, Massachusetts schools do not mandate that sex education be medically accurate, nor does it mandate curriculum on HIV/STIs, abstinence as an option, information on consent and healthy relationships, or abortion. Given that the COVID-19 pandemichasalreadycomplicatedthe sexual, social, and mental health of adolescents (by increasing online intimacy,sexting,sexualfirsts),sexual health information must be properly shared and taught by professionals to better navigate this growing virtual sexuallandscape.1in3womenand
1in5meninMassachusettsnotebeing raped, and/or a victim of interpersonal violence.50%ofwomenand25%ofmen inthestatereportexperiencing a form of sexual violence that isn’t rape. But there is no requirement that sex education teachers need to undergo specific training or coursework before teaching students in Massachusetts. Parental notice is also explicitly necessarywhileparentalconsentisnot. Upon notification of sexual education, parents may opt out on behalf of their children.
If schools are the only site for formal sexual education, then opt-out and optin policies will only lead to adolescents seeking information out elsewhere; the pandemic is enough evidence of students doing so. Is it safer to receive primary and introductory sexual education in a formal setting or with friends the same age, pornography, or google?Aretheycomparable?Research shows that having sexual education in formalsettingslikeschoolbeforetheage of18isamajorprotectivefactortoavoid sexual assault during college. Hence, parents being able to opt out of school sex-ed when offered could be more detrimentalforthefutureofouryouth.
andamajorityofparentsbelievethatit shouldbetaughtinschoolsratherthan by themselves, then why is sexual education not prioritized? Unlike Massachusetts, New Jersey, which has had the lowest rate of rape for more than a decade, has laws that require students to learn about consent and through a sexual assault prevention program, about intimate partner violence. It is the state with the most robust sexual education curriculum in the U.S. and this reflects how low its ratesofsexualviolencearecomparedto therestofthecountry.
New Jersey achieved this by implementingsignificantpolicychanges tosexualeducationinJune2020.These changes ensured that sex education curricula would incorporate conversations around gender identity and abortion. According to Patricia Teffenhart,theExecutiveDirectorofthe New Jersey Coalition Against Sexual Assault (NJCASA), the reason behind thesechangesisbecausesexeducation is proven to be a resiliency factor for sexual violence and therefore contributes to the overall well-being of adolescents.
But if sex education is crucial to the sexualhealthandwell-beingofchildren,
Sexualviolenceoccursatalarmingrates forteenagersandcollegestudents,most ofwhichcouldbepreventableifschools
focus on educating children of all ages aboutboundaries,respectingthem,and creating a culture of care versus carelessness. It’s not about eradicating all opt-out options immediately, but ratherlearningmoreaboutwhyopt-out policiesdomoreharmthangoodforthe youth of America and how we change this.
Whilethinkingaboutsexualeducation,I thought about my first. The first time I learned about reproductive organs was in biology class. Then, it was in health class–inthetenthgrade.ThefirsttimeI saw these organs in a non-sexual way was as a senior patient care technician when inserting catheters. What the overly academic introduction to reproductive organs provided me with was a dearth of information for when thetimeactuallywastocome.Infact,it scaredmeofffromtrulyunderstanding. Itdidn’tprotectme,butrathermademe vulnerabletosexualviolence.
So,here’safirstforusalltoconsider-destigmatize,destigmatize,destigmatize. Talkaboutit,becausetalkingaboutitin asafeenvironmentdoesn’tcausesexual behavior. It educates and reduces the risk of finding out through experimentationwiththewrongpeople atthewrongtime,and/orafterviolence.
WhenIwasyounger,maybewetalked around it at home, or with friends discreetly through innuendos that I didn’tunderstand, butitwasn’texplicit, and it wasn’t enough. Repetition is required. While it might be uncomfortable,doitanywaybeforeit’s too late. Ask questions, talk, learn, and listen.
Ramya Chunduri is an amateur animator and illustrator who engages in artistic storytelling and advocacy for health problems such as domestic violence within the South Asian community. She is also a non-profitentrepreneur,psychotherapist,and clinicalsocialworker.
WOW, we've covered a lot of ground, haven't we? I suppose I was right to assume that firsts, be it something we feel embarrassed about, something we're sentimental about, or even something. we wish we could change, inspires a lot for people. One of our delightful writers even shared that it was"cathartic"toputpentopaper(okay, fine,fingerstokeyboard)andhashouta storythathadlivedonformanyyearsin herheartandmind.
I'veenjoyednothingmorethancurating this issue for you. I've hand-selected these pieces, and my goal was to take you through a journey of firsts, be it good,bad,orugly.
The 11 Seconds Magazine was founded upon one central tenet and it is our breadandbutter.Wewanttolisten. We wanttolistentothestoriesthatoftengo untold,thatgethiddeninthecrevicesof the mind, that get smushed down into bite-sized pieces digestible for an audience not worthy of you, that get changed and transformed and exist as anentityoutsideyou.
particularly notable, I hope we can all understand how varied the lived experience can be. No one story is the same, despite my (hardest) efforts to extract themes to ensure a smooth and cohesive reading experience. While we managedtofocalizeontherelationship betweenmotheranddaughter,sex,love, periods,PCOSandendometriosis,sexual education, and the trauma underlying sexual violence, we did not know that's wherewewouldendup.
It's the beauty of the story. There's a beginning,amiddle,andanend,andit's uptoyoutodecidetheorderitbelongs in.
As the 11 Seconds Magazine grows and envelops more readers, writers, artists, and thinkers, we look forward to listening,listening,andlistening.
Tellusyourstory.Whyyou?Whynow? Tell us why the words itch your brain, whyyourfingerstwitchtosmearcolor, why lyricism floats off your tongue. We'llbehereforitall.
Throughthequestionof"firsts,"aseither the very first thing in a set of actions/experiences, as something that hasneverhappened,orassomething
Untilwemeetagain. XOXO,
