Birth Control, Smirth Control! What a Friday it’s been. My boobs are sore, I’m so freaking irritable that my mom offered up one of her precious panic attack halting Xanax,I’m exhausted and annoyed and craving fruit like it’s crack and I’m Whitney Houston. But for some reason, my Mom is hell bent on asking me..”Are you pregnant?” This only further irritates me. Hell really hath no fury like a woman on the verge of menstruating.
“No,Mom! It’s that time of month…why else are you throwing Xanax at me?”
But then I started thinking, as I do every single month, because I like to play russian roulette with my reproduction…am I pregnant?
Due to the stress of my life, after many years of EVERY kind of birth control under the sun, I gave up birth control almost 2 years ago. I’ve tried various pills, the patch ( that left a crusty bandaid rash..Ooh so sexxy), the Nuva ring ( which slipped out with increased cervical fluid, effectively defeating its entire purpose), vaginal inserts coupled with condoms ( why yes, it is very attractive when my vagina was frothing like a rabid dog. Why no? My vagina does not have a hangover and I did not insert an alka seltzer into my vagina for this occasion.) Hell, there was even a day in there where I considered getting an IUD (desperate times, desperate measures, my friends.) So when my doctor told me that I’d have to relinquish and go to a natural method, let’s just say I not so much gave it up as had it pryed from my cold dead hands by my gynecologist. Apparently, when you are over 35 and crazy stressed, birth control pills can cause you to stroke out or some shit like that. Well, you know what else can make a woman over 35 stroke out? A surprise baby!
Every single month, I spend a good 3 days wondering…”Am I pregnant?” It’s really not ever a possibility because between “other” forms of birth control, abstinence, knowing my ovulation, only seeing my husband on the weekends and being prone to exhaustion and migraines…it’s more of an irrational fear. But still, every month it’s the same thing. 1 day of wondering where the hell my period is? 1 day of thinking,Oh my God, maybe this could be the illusive little boy ( our unicorn). And the 3rd day, praying to God that I’m not pregnant.Then like magic, with a choir of angels singing in the background, I am visited by the gift of eve.
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Why do I do this to myself? Maybe it’s that 2.5 dream that’s been beaten into my head since I was a child. Maybe I really do want another kid? Nah, I think I just like having the option and I’ve always liked living my life on the edge. Keeps things interesting. The smell of a friend’s newborn is all it takes for me to develop a sudden onset of amnesia. Luckily, my girls snap me out of it by throwing an epic bedtime tantrum, reminding me that I’m STILL wiping asses and co-sleeping. Worse still I’ve lost half my hair from stress and my mom won’t be around to supply me with Xanax after the summer break.