My husband and I have always been planners. We tied the knot young and settled into our home by our mid-20s. The blueprint we crafted included having kids soon after achieving those “grown-up” milestones, and everything unfolded pretty much as expected. Both of our pregnancies happened swiftly, with just one bump in the road: I faced complications from ovarian cysts. After having one ovary removed during my first c-section, my doctor advised against hormonal birth control for the long term, fearing it could promote growths on my remaining ovary. The thought of a copper IUD sent shivers down my spine, leaving us with a limited array of options: either condoms, reminiscent of high school antics, or the pull-and-pray method.
Between my two pregnancies, we relied on condoms. After our second child arrived, we returned to them for a while, switching between condoms and that risky evacuation technique. Since we were still relatively young when we welcomed our kids, we weren’t ready for anything permanent, so we dealt with the occasional frustrations of rubber and well-timed exits. That is, until a few weeks ago.
We enjoy relaxing evenings with friends, nothing too wild, just a casual gathering where the kids can play while we share pizza, sushi, and a little wine. Recently, we hosted our friends at our place, and I indulged a bit more than usual, knowing I wouldn’t need to drive home and could simply sleep after everyone left. To put it plainly, I got a bit tipsy.
After our friends departed and the kids were tucked in, a lighthearted conversation about aging and the prospect of a “third baby” led to a moment of weakness on our part. We didn’t pull out—or pray for that matter.
Before anyone jumps to conclusions about my drunken decision to potentially conceive, let me clarify: we’ve been contemplating a third child for ages but hadn’t mustered the courage to take the plunge. It’s not as if a bottle of wine made me suddenly crave another baby; the desire had been simmering for years. We had previously experienced a miscarriage about a year ago, and that pregnancy was planned. It has taken us this long to revisit the topic and decide what we truly want before it becomes too late. Yes, we worry about the possibility of another loss, sleepless nights, financial strain, and a myriad of other concerns, but deep down, the desire for another child is still there. Just not now.
I woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache, questioning my very existence. What had I done? Did I really consume all that sushi and enough Cabernet to sink a ship? The morning-after flashbacks hit me like a ton of bricks, helping me piece together the events of the previous night.
“Did we really do what I think we did last night?” I asked my husband, who had fortunately remained more sober than I had (we always ensure one of us stays alert for the kids—top-notch parenting!). “Yep, we did. You seemed fine with it at the time. We’ve talked about a third baby so many times. Were you that out of it?? Oh my God. You’re not okay, are you?” We fell silent for a few minutes as I checked my phone. The timing was uncanny—I knew, based on my past experiences with pregnancy, that there was a solid possibility we could be expecting a little “Baby Sushi and Cabernet” in 2016.
I could list all the reasons why this wasn’t the ideal time for another child, but it wouldn’t change the fact that I made a poor choice. Thankfully, I live in a state where “Plan B” emergency contraception is readily accessible at pharmacies. I knew I had to act quickly to settle the rising panic within me. I informed my husband of my decision to take emergency contraception, and he agreed it was the best course of action. While a third child would be embraced and loved, we were just not prepared at this moment.
I hopped in the shower and threw on some clothes, pondering how I should present myself as a woman about to pick up the “morning after” pill. Should I look disheveled or more put-together? Would the pharmacist judge me more or less if I wore my wedding rings? I was definitely overthinking, which is typical for me, but it certainly wasn’t on my mind at 11 PM the previous night.
Before heading out, I did a quick search online. I thought I understood the ins and outs of Plan B, but having never used it before, I wanted to confirm the details. According to WebMD, “Most use the same hormones that are in regular birth control pills. The emergency-use pills mainly work by stopping the release of an egg. The pills may also prevent sperm from fertilizing the egg and may stop a fertilized egg from implanting in the uterus.” It does not cause an abortion, despite common misconceptions; it simply prevents pregnancy from occurring in the first place—like a supercharged birth control pill. That sat well with my conscience.
As it turned out, I needn’t have worried about any judgment from the pharmacist. Those precious little lifesavers were conveniently located next to the condom aisle, each securely packaged as if they were high-tech gadgets. I exhaled in relief, grabbed one from the shelf, and tossed it into my cart alongside baby wipes, frozen veggies, and Halloween candy. Just another item on my grocery list. I appreciated how effortlessly accessible it was.
I made a lighthearted comment to the cashier about needing to ring up my “special” item separately so I could use HSA funds, and she was incredibly understanding—no hint of shame or judgment. After spending about $50, I left the store feeling a bit lighter.
When it came time to open the package, I hesitated. I thought about our future. The reality that we really weren’t getting any younger and that this could be the nudge we needed to finally pursue that third child we had been dancing around for years. But the moment passed as quickly as it came; it simply wasn’t our time. I poured myself a glass of water, pulled the pill from its layers of packaging, and swallowed it. The wave of relief that washed over me confirmed I had made the right decision. We would be okay.
Not every woman who finds herself needing emergency contraception is reckless or in unstable situations. Sometimes mistakes happen. That one night of too much wine. That week when you forgot to take your birth control. It can happen to anyone. I always thought it wouldn’t happen to me, but I feel incredibly fortunate to have swiftly addressed the situation instead of spending weeks in anxiety about what could happen. This experience underscored for me the vital importance of having easy access to emergency contraception. All women deserve this simple, safe option to prevent an unplanned pregnancy. I’m grateful to live in a time and place where I had the freedom to make that choice.
For more insight into fertility options, check out this post on emergency contraception here. If you’re considering at-home insemination, you can find reputable kits at Make a Mom. For more resources on pregnancy and home insemination, visit UCSF’s IVF page.
In summary, this experience was a wake-up call about the unpredictability of life and the importance of having options. We may not have been ready for a third child right now, but knowing that I had the ability to make a choice brought me peace.
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