Amenorrhea: No Period. No Pregnancy.
I lost my period for nine months, but I wasn’t pregnant.
I’m going to share my story of amenorrhea (absence of menstruation). But before I dive in, a few disclaimers:
This is my personal experience losing and regaining my period. The causes and treatments were mine alone and should not be emulated by others who have amenorrhea and are looking to menstruate again. What worked for me may not work for others. Always seek your own medical advice.
I am writing as a patient and a health coach, not a gynecological specialist.
Some of the content in this blog may not be suitable for young readers.
This blog post is long so grab a snack and get comfortable!
Background:
Ever since I got my first period as a teenager, I have always been pretty regular. My periods came every 28-32 days. I never took birth control—a personal choice to not add synthetic hormones to my body—so I didn’t have the accuracy down to the day, but generally speaking, it came every four weeks.
I’d never missed a period. Sure, I had a few close calls, when my period was five, six or even seven days late—those dreaded moments of reflection on my sexual activity the past month, wondering if maybe I wasn’t as careful as I could have been—but never an outright no-show. These late periods were usually due to stress since cortisol, the stress hormone, interferes with healthy hormone function.
I was never sure that I wanted children. I wasn’t sure I didn’t want them, either. I just hadn’t felt a strong urge either way. And since parenthood is a rather big decision, I decided not to pursue pregnancy until I was more certain I wanted to be a parent. I took for granted always having a regular cycle. I figured, hey, I have time, so I can worry about it later.
The cause of my absent period:
Some time ago I found myself in the perfect storm of toxicity: a horribly stressful work situation combined with a gut-wrenching breakup. The work stress was cumulative, stretching out over the course of a year. Chronic stress was the foundational layer of my day-to-day. I distinctly remember feeling like I was being hit from all angles, and it was only a matter of time before my body shut down. And that’s exactly what happened.
I was also gearing up for my next period just as the breakup and work situation came to a head. I could feel it—the light cramping, the painful bloating. All my usual PMS symptoms were present. However, when the day came to actually get my period, it didn’t show.
A week later:
I thought nothing of it. I was aware of how much stress I was under, crying almost every day, fighting off heartbreak and rising cortisol, so I would have been surprised if my period was on time.
Two weeks later:
With still no period, I was a little concerned, but I knew it was coming “any day now.”
By the third week, I succumbed to the fact that my period would not come at all that month. I can’t say I was entirely upset (periods are not particularly pleasant), but still, I knew it wasn’t a good sign for my overall health if I was so stressed out that my period didn’t make an appearance. Nevertheless, I tried to shake it off, assuming that I would skip just this one month, and then resume my periods the following month.
But the following month came and went without my period. I continued to remain bloated and crampy almost every day, as if I were on the cusp of getting my period. This perpetual PMS lead me to think that my period was coming “any second now,” but it never did. It was almost as if my body froze in time, like my system was turned off without closing out the PMS apps first. Every day I woke up and thought, this is the day! But it still remained MIA.
It wasn’t just my period that vanished. My libido took quite a hit—something I had never experienced. I assumed that the low libido was a natural reaction to the breakup. I was heartbroken, and in no headspace to consider being intimate with another person. However, it went beyond fear of emotional connection. The low libido was on a chemical and hormonal level that surpassed any prior heartbreaks (and believe me, I’d had my heart broken many times before this).
It’s one thing to become disinterested in dating (that would be expected after a breakup). It’s quite another to have lost your libido entirely. I was physically unable to feel anything romantic or sexual, even with myself. I was numb. Masturbation—a perfectly healthy activity for adults—was impossible for me.
If you’ve never experienced a loss of/low libido, it’s very hard to explain, other than, it goes way beyond disinterest. It felt like someone had gone into my body, found a switch that was keeping everything up and running, and turned off the switch. It’s the difference between changing the channel, and unplugging the TV all together. In fact, this felt like a city-wide power outage. I had no idea how to get the switch in the “on” position again, but I did know it was clearly connected to the amenorrhea.
Many times I tried to stimulate my libido, but just like my period, my desire and energy for self-pleasure were nowhere to be found. This was frustrating, confusing, and lonely. I had to succumb to the fact that this was the new norm for me, and trust that things would eventually change.
Four months without my period:
I sought out specialists to counsel me. I didn’t necessarily want my period and libido back because I was anxious to date, have sex, or have a baby. I was more anxious to have them back because I knew something was wrong in my body and I wanted to feel like myself again. I wanted to correct the imbalance.
The first specialist I consulted was not helpful. He did not examine me or take blood work. He heard my symptoms over the phone and his only suggestion was to take synthetic hormones to induce my period. To this, I thought, absolutely not! This is the exact problem I have with Western medicine. I didn’t just want my period back, I wanted to know why I lost it, what was going on with my hormones, and how I could naturally help it to come back.
I moved on to more holistic specialists who took blood work and intra-vaginal sonograms. I learned a few things. The sonograms revealed that my uterine lining was very thin, which indicated that I was not producing enough estrogen. This was confirmed with blood work, which also showed low levels of other corresponding hormones, all indicating no ovulation. They ruled out early menopause (I still had active ovarian follicles, which meant, once I did start ovulating again, I would still be open for business if I did want to conceive a baby).
The doctors I saw unanimously concluded that the amenorrhea was stress-induced, and that it would likely come back on its own, if I just relaxed, took care of myself, and stopped watching the boiling pot everyday.
I started to take fish oil supplements and eat more nuts and avocado to increase healthy fats (essential in menstruation), as well as calcium for my bones due to the low estrogen (estrogen is essential for bone health). Other than the few supplements and dietary changes, I needed to focus on not focusing on it. I did my best to ward off worrisome inquiries from friends and family.
I had to remind myself that, aside from the lacking period, I was perfectly healthy in all other respects.
Side note: Even though I was fairly confident my period would return eventually, and even though I wasn’t actively trying to have a baby, losing my period during my child-bearing years really made me stop and think. I still didn’t know if I wanted to be a parent, but I realized, like it or not, the decision could be made for me. It’s a very unsettling feeling for a woman. I could only imagine how scary this would be for a woman my age who desperately wanted a child.
Even though I knew there was nothing to be done, and even though I assured others that I was fine and my body just needed time to heal itself, I still periodically went for more medical tests and doctor visits. I found myself at the six-month mark crying in front of a gynecologist who, once again, told me there was nothing to do but wait. I felt that six months was excessive to be without my period, and wanted to ensure there wasn’t anything I could have been doing differently (healing FOMO). I had to accept just how affected I was by the stress I was under six months earlier, and stop shaming myself into being “over it by now.”
When I went home that evening, I made a conscious decision to accept where I was: not healed yet. I felt more liberated, relaxed even, when I could just admit it:
1 - I was deeply affected by the stress.
2 - I was not over my breakup.
3 - I clearly needed more time to heal.
4 - Most importantly, all this was okay!
The following month I gave myself a healthy deadline, which my doctors supported. I would allow for five more months (which would make a full year without my period) for it to come back. If by then still nothing, I would go back to doctors for more tests, and to figure out next steps. Until then, I gave myself permission to stop thinking about it. Having that deadline allowed me to ease up a bit on the constant worrying and checking. It’s like writing down a to-do list task so you don’t forget it—you don’t have to worry about it anymore because you have given yourself a reminder to attend to it later.
In the meantime, I made it a point to meditate with love and acceptance, placing my hands on my abdomen, where my ovaries are, and provide positive self-talk to my body—the way a pregnant woman might talk to her growing baby inside her belly.
When I wasn’t lying still meditating, I moved my body as much as I could, in the form of dance, stretch, yoga, and light cardio. I continued to eat healthy and made sure I was getting adequate hydration.
As far as sex, I still couldn’t get it up, so that was off the table. This created its own catch-22. Sex and orgasm are actually a necessary part of hormonal health and balance (orgasms release oxytocin, a peptide hormone responsible for feeling connected, sexual reproduction, and overall great mood). Therefore, not having sex and masturbating were inhibiting my healing. But I was producing practically no estrogen and my libido was so low, so I had no desire or energy to have orgasms.
I recognized this catch-22, and yet, didn’t have a solution to break the cycle. I did my best to jump on any opportunity, no matter how brief or minor, to stimulate my sex drive. This rarely resulted in orgasm, but baby steps. Something was better than nothing.
As the eighth month approached, although there was still no sign of my period, I could feel my sex drive coming back ever so slightly. I wasn’t ravenous for sex, but I no longer felt completely numb. I took this as a good sign. I wasn’t yet ready to engage with other sexual partners, but I felt like someone had dusted off that switch inside me that had been previously turned off, and shifted it to the “on” position. I wasn’t operating on all cylinders, but it felt like there was finally some electricity flowing, a consistent low-grade current. My hormones were finally starting to stabilize.
Just before this shift in sex drive, I did something against doctor’s orders: I stopped taking my supplements. It’s not that I felt the supplements themselves were harmful, but rather, the act of taking them with the intended purpose of healing was something I needed a break from. I wanted to just live, to not think about my missing period, and trust that nature would take its course. I wanted to move away from the mindset of “fixing” myself, and instead, just enjoy my re-acquainted sex drive, eat my normal diet, and keep to my plan to not worry until the one-year mark.
Around this time, I had a vivid dream that I got my period. I remember waking up feeling like the dream was more than just a wish, but an actual premonition.
Nine months with still no period, I took a vacation to Paris. I didn’t pack any tampons or pads. Why would I? The vacation was relaxing, rejuvenating, and since I was in Paris, I ate a lot of fatty cheese.
Who knows if it was the cheese, the vacation, the recent libido rise, the attitude shift, or all of the above, but wouldn’t you know it, while I was on vacation, I got my period.
Takeaway:
For nine months, day after day, I woke up, went to work, ate, exercised, socialized, read, wrote, painted, pooped, meditated, cooked, showered, not knowing when, or even if I’d ever menstruate again. It was one of the most unsettling and confusing times in my life. After this nine-month hiatus from my menstrual cycle, although I didn’t miss the cramps, bloating, fatigue, and other unpleasant symptoms that come with menstruation, I was relieved to be operating normally again.
I had been given a second chance as a woman, and I started to put more thought into my reproductive future, no longer assuming I have all the time in the world to wait for the right man and the right time. Nothing has been decided on that front just yet, but the experience certainly shifted my priorities a bit.
But the greatest lesson I learned was this: Stress is no fucking joke. For women AND men, stress will do damage if you don’t manage it proactively. Don’t wait until you develop chronic colds, headaches, lose your period, have debilitating pain, or even just have a bad acne outbreak. Stress can manifest as, and contribute to pretty much any physical symptom or illness you can think of. If left unchecked, it can do serious harm. If you find yourself in a stressful situation, relationship, or time, take every precaution you can to prioritize your well-being.
Only if we’re lucky do we get multiple chances to correct such stress-induced imbalances. Take care of you. Period.