Two weeks ago this past Saturday, a man broke into my apartment and tried to rape me. I fought him off, he escaped, and I suffered only a bloody nose. I am still shaken, but I am okay, and I feel lucky.
I had just moved into a new apartment, where I was living alone, and this was my second night in the new place. I have since moved into a safer neighborhood, second floor 1-bedroom apartment. My investigation is ongoing, so I can't write much about it here. Sufficed to say, I believe the offender is in jail, caught only days ago, on his way to prison, but not for my incident, unfortunately.
Why am I writing about this here, in this blog about my abortion? There are a few reasons.
What if I hadn't had the abortion:
I couldn't help but think, within minutes after the assault, that I could have been almost 8 months pregnant when this happened. Would the offender, when he first opened my door to peer in and see who was in the bedroom, skipped on raping a very pregnant woman? Would I have even been home alone or would this have even happened, as my boyfriend and I most likely would have moved in together and be living elsewhere?
Threats to my reproductive system and my sexual identity:
Thus far, I don't feel scarred sexually or emotionally by the abortion or by the attack. I am aware that these things could impact me down the road, could seep in insidiously, and I keep a check on my sexual and emotional health and happiness.
What if I had been raped:
Because I am slightly psychic but do not learn to listen to my gut, I had this thought the day before the attack: 'It would suck to be raped if you had a yeast infection.' (I had a yeast infection at the time.) Followed by, 'It would suck to be raped if you weren't on birth control.'
The emotional toll of simply having a stranger violate my personal space and attempt to violate my body, it's hard to describe. I cannot imagine the unspoken pain of women who are raped, nor can I imagine the devastation if that rape results in a pregnancy.
That there are people out in this world who would suggest that rape does not "justify" an abortion absolutely sickens me. That they would want to further control the body and destiny of a woman whose control of those very things was violently ripped from her sickens me as well. I usually don't fill this blog with much vitriol toward those people, but fuck it. Those small-minded, self-righteous urchins should feel what that violation of space and body feels like, how it shakes you to your core, how it leaves you jumping at shadows and tree branches cracking, and sobbing at your own fear in the middle of the night, and then experience a lifetime of the product of that violation. Oh, how their hollow ivory towers would crumble.
Amazingly, one of those small-minded people is a friend of mine from high school. She once posted a link to this disgusting (and so-bad-it's-almost-funny) essay that mainly uses the movie Rob Roy as its evidential proof for this opinion. This friend called me the night following the attack after I posted a note on Facebook explaining what had happened. In tears and hysterical (Please don't call your friends who were just the victim of a violent crime if you are in tears and hysterical, by the way. It's not helpful. In fact, it's upsetting.), she said how happy she was I was okay, so glad she was that I fought, how much she wanted to hear my voice. And what might her message have said, I wonder, if I hadn't been able to fight him off, if I had been raped, if I was pregnant with the rapist's child and if I chose to terminate the pregnancy? What if I had shared that on Facebook instead?
Breaking the silence:
It's not my style to be silent. (Have you noticed?) I want to share my experiences and stories from my experiences because it is important to me that there is more understanding, more compassion, more connection between a statistic (like 1 in 1,000 women on birth control will get pregnant on their period; there is one sexual assault every two minutes) and the experience (me).
The day after the attack I wrote a letter to my friends and family. At first, I intended only to send it to a handful of friends and my family members. After I wrote and edited and started adding names to the list, I kept adding more names and more names and more... Soon, I sent the email to nearly 50 friends. Within hours, I decided to post most of the email as a note on Facebook.
Responses came pouring in. Support, advice, words of love. One woman, who I only have met on two occasions and is dating a friend of mine, sent me a private message. Four years ago, in her first week after she moved to this city, she was raped. She admired me for sharing my experience, she said. My heart slammed against my chest. This strong woman, this brave person, I could not imagine what she had been through, and she was reaching out to me. There were others out there, women I knew who had been through much worse, and I wasn't alone. None of us are.
The silence is not okay. It cloaks the experience in a shroud of shame, fear. By sharing our stories, even the most difficult, we support one another.
I am considering creating a separate anonymous blog about further issues affecting women, sexual health and my own experiences moving forward from the abortion. I started this blog with the intent to chronicle one experience, and I'd like it to exist somewhat statically, so that women going through an abortion might refer to the direct experience of the abortion and my healing. However, things keep happening to me (funny how life works!), and I would like to keep sharing. I think another blog may be the answer.
Showing posts with label birth control. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birth control. Show all posts
Monday, August 8, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
EC and me
I took a Plan B One-Step pill on Saturday.
It goes without saying that I wasn't expecting to do that, but sometimes little slip-ups happen. My little slip-up played out a lot like the notorious sex scene in Judd Apatow's Knocked Up.
At 4 in the morning on Friday night, having lovey, drowsy sex, I realized I was not going to orgasm. Feeling close with my boyfriend and wanting him to climax, I whispered in his ear that I wanted him to, even if I didn't.
'What?!' he said. I whispered yes, and he said, 'No, no no,' and then... he came.
There I was thinking he had been insisting 'no' because we never like to have sex where one person orgasms and the other doesn't. But his shocked and scared face shook me from my lovey-drowsy state, and I asked with panic, "What??"
"Uh, we got kind of carried away there, didn't we?" he said.
"What do you mean?" As the words passed my lips, it dawned on me... No condom.
For a moment, I was angry. How did this happen? I saw him open the wrapper and I thought he had put it on. We had even stopped so he could. But I realized that without my contacts in, and sleepy and distracted, I didn't actually see the condom go on. But what was he thinking?? What happened?
It turned out that our slip-up occurred through a series of miscommuncations, similar to Knocked Up's "Just do it!" sex scene where Katherine Heigl encourages Seth Rogen to hurry up and get the condom on, and Seth Rogen forgoes the condom to, uh, 'just do it.' I thought my boyfriend had put on a condom already, and he thought I, when encouraging him to orgasm, simply wanted him to pull out, or that I had started my period... (Face, palm.)
And to those birth control methods, I held back my exasperation and said calmly instead, "Just so we're clear: As long as I'm not on birth control and I don't have my IUD yet, only condoms. No pulling out. No unprotected sex during my period. That's how we wound up where we were in March."
He didn't say anything but rubbed his head and eyes and groaned. I think he was having a 'oh, yeah, duh' moment. Did I mention it was 4 in the morning?
We curled up together as I pulled out my iPhone to search on Plan B's website for the closest pharmacy that sells it OTC. By noon the next day, I took a Plan B after downing a bunch of water and veggies (I felt nauseous the only other time I took Plan B, about four years ago, so I didn't want to take it on an empty stomach.)
I still can't believe some people feel there's a stigma about emergency contraception like Plan B, particularly people who don't have a problem with birth control. For me, there is no stigma, no humiliation. Mistakes happen. That's that.
Though I did empathize with the dewy-eyed 19-year-old boy working the Walgreen's pharmacy counter whose voice cracked with each phrase he uttered during our transaction. Yes, my dear pharmacy friend, I am a 20-something, sexually-active woman. And yes, my sexual partner and I had an accident last night, but it's okay. And yes, I will also take this plastic cooler as I am going to the beach immediately after this, and thank you very much.
It goes without saying that I wasn't expecting to do that, but sometimes little slip-ups happen. My little slip-up played out a lot like the notorious sex scene in Judd Apatow's Knocked Up.
At 4 in the morning on Friday night, having lovey, drowsy sex, I realized I was not going to orgasm. Feeling close with my boyfriend and wanting him to climax, I whispered in his ear that I wanted him to, even if I didn't.
'What?!' he said. I whispered yes, and he said, 'No, no no,' and then... he came.
There I was thinking he had been insisting 'no' because we never like to have sex where one person orgasms and the other doesn't. But his shocked and scared face shook me from my lovey-drowsy state, and I asked with panic, "What??"
"Uh, we got kind of carried away there, didn't we?" he said.
"What do you mean?" As the words passed my lips, it dawned on me... No condom.
For a moment, I was angry. How did this happen? I saw him open the wrapper and I thought he had put it on. We had even stopped so he could. But I realized that without my contacts in, and sleepy and distracted, I didn't actually see the condom go on. But what was he thinking?? What happened?
It turned out that our slip-up occurred through a series of miscommuncations, similar to Knocked Up's "Just do it!" sex scene where Katherine Heigl encourages Seth Rogen to hurry up and get the condom on, and Seth Rogen forgoes the condom to, uh, 'just do it.' I thought my boyfriend had put on a condom already, and he thought I, when encouraging him to orgasm, simply wanted him to pull out, or that I had started my period... (Face, palm.)
And to those birth control methods, I held back my exasperation and said calmly instead, "Just so we're clear: As long as I'm not on birth control and I don't have my IUD yet, only condoms. No pulling out. No unprotected sex during my period. That's how we wound up where we were in March."
He didn't say anything but rubbed his head and eyes and groaned. I think he was having a 'oh, yeah, duh' moment. Did I mention it was 4 in the morning?
We curled up together as I pulled out my iPhone to search on Plan B's website for the closest pharmacy that sells it OTC. By noon the next day, I took a Plan B after downing a bunch of water and veggies (I felt nauseous the only other time I took Plan B, about four years ago, so I didn't want to take it on an empty stomach.)
I still can't believe some people feel there's a stigma about emergency contraception like Plan B, particularly people who don't have a problem with birth control. For me, there is no stigma, no humiliation. Mistakes happen. That's that.
Though I did empathize with the dewy-eyed 19-year-old boy working the Walgreen's pharmacy counter whose voice cracked with each phrase he uttered during our transaction. Yes, my dear pharmacy friend, I am a 20-something, sexually-active woman. And yes, my sexual partner and I had an accident last night, but it's okay. And yes, I will also take this plastic cooler as I am going to the beach immediately after this, and thank you very much.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Maybe Not the Mirena...
I canceled my appointment for the Mirena IUD. After weeks of talking with many ladies about birth control, chatting with a few other friends who have or have had IUDs, I began to question my decision to go with the hormonal IUD. Maybe it would have been fine for me, but the Depo shot and its insane hormones made me increasingly wary of using any hormonal birth control, regardless of how "locally" the Mirena's hormones work.
I talked with my very patient OB/GYNE about my concerns, and we discussed non-hormonal options. In the rubbers department, my doctor said she does not really recommend cervical caps or diaphragms. I wasn't really interested in those options anyway and am more interested in the copper, non-hormonal Paragard IUD.
I hesitated to go with the Paragard initially. Like many women, I heard the word "copper" and balked. The idea of heavier periods also isn't hot (though my periods have never been very heavy or crampy). My dad also shared a former coworker's horror story of infection on Paragard. That pretty much sealed the (initial) deal that Paragard was not for me.
However, after almost two months of weight gain, breakouts and mood swings, the Paragard appeals way more than any hormones at all. Riding yet another hormonal birth control rollercoaster sounds like an exhausting trip that I am not up for right now.
The post-operative Depo-Provera shot lasts until June 7th. I am no longer pressuring myself to come up with a quick birth control solution. If I am not certain, the boyfriend and I can use condoms until I feel sure of my choice.
Here I want to say a lot about how the pressure, (oftentimes) cost, and crazy side effects of birth control weigh on the woman in a relationship. How the woman becomes the sole vessel for these issues and stress. How insane it is that birth control options are not more thoroughly discussed--in school classrooms, in doctor's offices, among women. I, for one, have been talking VAGINA with my lady-friends NON-STOP recently. It feels great, too. With those women whom I've shared my experience, there is closeness and support, and simultaneously I can offer advice and knowledge. It's awesome.
I want to share and talk about this experience, about women's health, about sex, about birth control, as much as possible. Knowledge is power, and we must be our own advocates for our health, bodies and wellness. Here's to us ladies and getting the best we deserve.
I talked with my very patient OB/GYNE about my concerns, and we discussed non-hormonal options. In the rubbers department, my doctor said she does not really recommend cervical caps or diaphragms. I wasn't really interested in those options anyway and am more interested in the copper, non-hormonal Paragard IUD.
I hesitated to go with the Paragard initially. Like many women, I heard the word "copper" and balked. The idea of heavier periods also isn't hot (though my periods have never been very heavy or crampy). My dad also shared a former coworker's horror story of infection on Paragard. That pretty much sealed the (initial) deal that Paragard was not for me.
However, after almost two months of weight gain, breakouts and mood swings, the Paragard appeals way more than any hormones at all. Riding yet another hormonal birth control rollercoaster sounds like an exhausting trip that I am not up for right now.
The post-operative Depo-Provera shot lasts until June 7th. I am no longer pressuring myself to come up with a quick birth control solution. If I am not certain, the boyfriend and I can use condoms until I feel sure of my choice.
Here I want to say a lot about how the pressure, (oftentimes) cost, and crazy side effects of birth control weigh on the woman in a relationship. How the woman becomes the sole vessel for these issues and stress. How insane it is that birth control options are not more thoroughly discussed--in school classrooms, in doctor's offices, among women. I, for one, have been talking VAGINA with my lady-friends NON-STOP recently. It feels great, too. With those women whom I've shared my experience, there is closeness and support, and simultaneously I can offer advice and knowledge. It's awesome.
I want to share and talk about this experience, about women's health, about sex, about birth control, as much as possible. Knowledge is power, and we must be our own advocates for our health, bodies and wellness. Here's to us ladies and getting the best we deserve.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Abortion in the United States
The Guttmacher Institute just released a fabulous video sharing the basic information of who gets abortions and why in the United States. Share this with anyone you can.
Birth Control Lottery
I just got very exciting news from my OB/GYN's office: My IUD and its insertion procedure are covered 100 percent by my health insurance! I kid you not that I feel like I just won the lottery.
I'm scheduled to have it inserted next Wednesday, which will (fingers crossed) be during my next menses.
I am happy to move on from the Depo-Provera shot. While it's been awesome not taking a pill every day, I think that I've had a few negative side effects from the birth control shot.
First, I have broken out like a seventeen year old boy. I don't have bad skin, generally speaking, but man oh man.
Second, I have felt really ungrounded and emotional. This unstableness could be because of the procedure, because of other things going on in my life, or because of the birth control shot, I don't know. I do know that my OB/GYN explained that many women experience "the blues" when they first get the shot. I think I might be one of them.
Finally, I think I'm also among the women who gain weight on the birth control shot. And that just sucks.
So, IUD here I come... I am so pysched.
I'm scheduled to have it inserted next Wednesday, which will (fingers crossed) be during my next menses.
I am happy to move on from the Depo-Provera shot. While it's been awesome not taking a pill every day, I think that I've had a few negative side effects from the birth control shot.
First, I have broken out like a seventeen year old boy. I don't have bad skin, generally speaking, but man oh man.
Second, I have felt really ungrounded and emotional. This unstableness could be because of the procedure, because of other things going on in my life, or because of the birth control shot, I don't know. I do know that my OB/GYN explained that many women experience "the blues" when they first get the shot. I think I might be one of them.
Finally, I think I'm also among the women who gain weight on the birth control shot. And that just sucks.
So, IUD here I come... I am so pysched.
Monday, April 18, 2011
One Month (and Three Days) Later
It is exactly one month and three days since my March 15th procedure. Things return to normal, and I'm still okay.
After meeting with my OB/GYNE last week, I've decided to have the Mirena IUD inserted. We ordered an IUD, and now we wait for insurance paperwork to clear. This process can take up to a month. The ideal time to have an IUD inserted is during menstruation (soft cervix!), so it's too bad that I couldn't have an IUD inserted last week when I happened to have my period during my visit to the doc.
While I'm physically back to normal, and I apparently gained 0.6 pounds in my Post-Abortion Chocolate Chip Cookie Recovery Plan, returning to a normal sex life with my boyfriend has been a bit rocky. The bumps on the road to sexual bliss have nothing to do with any physical ailments related to the procedure or the complication and may not have even anything mental-emotional to do with the procedure or complication either. (I was having infections and vaginal pain prior to the pregnancy.) But, as my gynecologist put it the other day, me and my cervix have been through an awful lot in the last month alone. My boyfriend and I cope with understanding and taking things slow. It seems to be working as my libido is on the rise (hooray!) and sex hasn't been painful in the last several days.
Emotionally, I feel more and more like myself with each passing day. There's no question that the abortion will be a part of who I am, but it will not comprise my entire being as it did during the process and my immediate recovery.
I'm a strong believer that things happen for a reason, though we must have the strength to seek those reasons, make sense of them and then build and follow the paths that lay before us. I feel like I'm emerging from the dark pain and difficulty that obscured my vision and entering into a clarity and light where I'm doing just that. It feels right and good.
After meeting with my OB/GYNE last week, I've decided to have the Mirena IUD inserted. We ordered an IUD, and now we wait for insurance paperwork to clear. This process can take up to a month. The ideal time to have an IUD inserted is during menstruation (soft cervix!), so it's too bad that I couldn't have an IUD inserted last week when I happened to have my period during my visit to the doc.
While I'm physically back to normal, and I apparently gained 0.6 pounds in my Post-Abortion Chocolate Chip Cookie Recovery Plan, returning to a normal sex life with my boyfriend has been a bit rocky. The bumps on the road to sexual bliss have nothing to do with any physical ailments related to the procedure or the complication and may not have even anything mental-emotional to do with the procedure or complication either. (I was having infections and vaginal pain prior to the pregnancy.) But, as my gynecologist put it the other day, me and my cervix have been through an awful lot in the last month alone. My boyfriend and I cope with understanding and taking things slow. It seems to be working as my libido is on the rise (hooray!) and sex hasn't been painful in the last several days.
Emotionally, I feel more and more like myself with each passing day. There's no question that the abortion will be a part of who I am, but it will not comprise my entire being as it did during the process and my immediate recovery.
I'm a strong believer that things happen for a reason, though we must have the strength to seek those reasons, make sense of them and then build and follow the paths that lay before us. I feel like I'm emerging from the dark pain and difficulty that obscured my vision and entering into a clarity and light where I'm doing just that. It feels right and good.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Oh. Hey there, Monthly Visitor.
How about that? I got my period!
It's strange and awesome to get a period again, especially when I haven't seen one in four months.
Way back in September, when I switched to the three-month cycle on oral birth control, I hated that I felt out of touch with my body. I actually missed my period. As relieved as I was that the three-month cycle solved other problems for me, I would never do it again. Ahem...
**Soap Box Alert! If you are taking Seasonale, or simply taking monophasic pills three months at a time like I was, please consider keeping pregnancy tests on hand just to check in with your body every month or six weeks or so. If you can avoid a pregnancy progressing for a full three months and just have peace of mind that you're not knocked up, believe me, IT'S WORTH IT.**
It's quite possible that all those crazy emotions I wrote about yesterday were partly/mostly related to a wild bout of PMS. I have never PMS'd before, so I'm not familiar with how I might feel if I were experiencing it. Physically, I'm much crampier than normal too.
I have an appointment with my OB/GYNE tomorrow, which I am so ridiculously psyched about. We had discussed the possibility of inserting the Mirena tomorrow. She told me at our last appointment that the best time to insert the Mirena is immediately following or toward end of menstruation as the cervix is softest then. Since I just started my period, I'm not sure that will be possible.
It's strange and awesome to get a period again, especially when I haven't seen one in four months.
Way back in September, when I switched to the three-month cycle on oral birth control, I hated that I felt out of touch with my body. I actually missed my period. As relieved as I was that the three-month cycle solved other problems for me, I would never do it again. Ahem...
**Soap Box Alert! If you are taking Seasonale, or simply taking monophasic pills three months at a time like I was, please consider keeping pregnancy tests on hand just to check in with your body every month or six weeks or so. If you can avoid a pregnancy progressing for a full three months and just have peace of mind that you're not knocked up, believe me, IT'S WORTH IT.**
It's quite possible that all those crazy emotions I wrote about yesterday were partly/mostly related to a wild bout of PMS. I have never PMS'd before, so I'm not familiar with how I might feel if I were experiencing it. Physically, I'm much crampier than normal too.
I have an appointment with my OB/GYNE tomorrow, which I am so ridiculously psyched about. We had discussed the possibility of inserting the Mirena tomorrow. She told me at our last appointment that the best time to insert the Mirena is immediately following or toward end of menstruation as the cervix is softest then. Since I just started my period, I'm not sure that will be possible.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Your Love is Like a Roller Coaster
I am a hormonal mess. Surges of sadness, happiness, rejection, acceptance, love and otherwise wave over me and overwhelm me.
My boyfriend and I have fought like crazy for about two weeks now. I feel so easily hurt by him these days, and I cannot figure out if the normal strains in our relationship and our lives are causing this, or if it's excacerbated by the changes of hormones in my body.
I've read in some other abortion blogs about experiencing wild swings of emotion following the procedure and your body's hormonal readjustment. Because I was entering my second trimester, my body was pumped full of more pregnancy hormones, so it may take me a bit longer to adjust...
Then there's the hormonal change of birth control. I have read a few experiences of women who feel emotionally unstable on the Depo shot.
At this point, I'm not sure which it is, but I'm wondering if anyone out there reading this has experienced mood swings following their procedure and/or a Depo-Provera shot???
My boyfriend and I have fought like crazy for about two weeks now. I feel so easily hurt by him these days, and I cannot figure out if the normal strains in our relationship and our lives are causing this, or if it's excacerbated by the changes of hormones in my body.
I've read in some other abortion blogs about experiencing wild swings of emotion following the procedure and your body's hormonal readjustment. Because I was entering my second trimester, my body was pumped full of more pregnancy hormones, so it may take me a bit longer to adjust...
Then there's the hormonal change of birth control. I have read a few experiences of women who feel emotionally unstable on the Depo shot.
At this point, I'm not sure which it is, but I'm wondering if anyone out there reading this has experienced mood swings following their procedure and/or a Depo-Provera shot???
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Recovery Update - 3 Weeks Later
Three weeks after the procedure and eleven days after my complication, I am doing really, really well!
The spotting has dropped off to barely-there, if it's there at all. At this point, I am not sure if this spotting I occasionally see is related to the procedure, the complication or because I had a Depo-Provera shot. The "Birth Control Shot" is known to cause spotting and irregular bleeding.
My appetite is returning to normal too. I realized after the fact that pregnancy made me, well, way healthier. I couldn't get enough veggies, virtually cut out alcohol, and most shockingly, my notorious sweet tooth was replaced with a citrus tooth. (I remarked to my boyfriend after we found out that I was pregnant that the time I ate a whole lemon should have been a clue to strange cravings and pregnancy.) But in the last week or two, I have been happily eating ice cream and cookies and indulging myself. Planning to cut that out before it becomes a problem!
Over the weekend my OB/GYNE called me just to say hi, check in and see how I was doing. How awesome is that? What a great doctor. We scheduled an appointment for next week to discuss future birth control options. I had planned to have a Mirena IUD inserted, but the complication left me feeling relieved that my uterus is finally empty, so I'm a little hung up mentally. I'm debating between continuing with the Mirena IUD plan and scheduling another Depo-Provera shot. Looking forward to discussing my options with an OB/GYNE I trust!
The spotting has dropped off to barely-there, if it's there at all. At this point, I am not sure if this spotting I occasionally see is related to the procedure, the complication or because I had a Depo-Provera shot. The "Birth Control Shot" is known to cause spotting and irregular bleeding.
My appetite is returning to normal too. I realized after the fact that pregnancy made me, well, way healthier. I couldn't get enough veggies, virtually cut out alcohol, and most shockingly, my notorious sweet tooth was replaced with a citrus tooth. (I remarked to my boyfriend after we found out that I was pregnant that the time I ate a whole lemon should have been a clue to strange cravings and pregnancy.) But in the last week or two, I have been happily eating ice cream and cookies and indulging myself. Planning to cut that out before it becomes a problem!
Over the weekend my OB/GYNE called me just to say hi, check in and see how I was doing. How awesome is that? What a great doctor. We scheduled an appointment for next week to discuss future birth control options. I had planned to have a Mirena IUD inserted, but the complication left me feeling relieved that my uterus is finally empty, so I'm a little hung up mentally. I'm debating between continuing with the Mirena IUD plan and scheduling another Depo-Provera shot. Looking forward to discussing my options with an OB/GYNE I trust!
Friday, March 25, 2011
The Importance of a Good Gynecologist, or The Story of My First Ultrasound
I want to share the story of my first ultrasound and my experience with my old, terrible gynecologists--Dr. D and Dr. S's--office. I haven't really felt up for writing it out yet, but I feel ready now.
It's important to me that I share this story because I know so many young women my age who don't have strong, trustful relationships with their gynecologists. When you're young, healthy and don't have many problems, it's easy to go in for your annual pap smear or your latest birth control prescription and be on your way.
I found my old gynecologists through two search methods. First, their office showed up in a location search on insurance provider's website. Their practice was two blocks away from my work office. Second, I Googled one doctor (Dr. S) and found she had a handful of positive reviews on Yelp. The glowing five star reviews, in retrospect, describe the bare minimum of what a gynecologist should provide her patients: answered questions, made patient feel comfortable, handled the birth of a child.
Good enough for me, I figured at the time. I thought Dr. S, upon meeting her, seemed way more manic than the reviewers had suggested. I felt a bit rushed and like Dr. S might be taking some kind of upper in the breakroom, but she was nice enough, my vag was in good condition and all was well.
But all didn't stay well, as I explained at length in another entry. It took a plethora of vaginal infections to discover that Dr. S and her colleague who I preferred, Dr. D, did not have an approach to women's reproductive health that was holistic or systemic. They were fine for your annual pap, but that was it.
(In fact, around the time that I had these ongoing infections, a Yelp review went up that explained, more or less, "If you have real problems or issues with your reproductive health, then this is not the practice you want to go to.")
This winter I found a new gynecologist, Dr. T, who I saw one time and loved. I couldn't shut up to anyone who might listen about how great she is, how wonderful her approach is, how the entire office is more like a spa and less like a cold clinic.
Naturally, when I got those two pink lines on my at-home pregnancy test, I called Dr. T's office. Here is how my call with her office went:
I was very, very disappointed. When I broke the news to my boyfriend and we discussed our concerns that I might be far along (as I was), he urged me to call my shitty former gynecologists' office to try to squeeze in an appointment the next morning. We talked about how I had come not to trust these doctors but agreed that we wanted to know as soon as possible how far along we were and what our options would be. Time was of the essence, and since it was already after 6 PM on Thursday evening, I would have to call first thing in the morning and take care of it. After all, how bad could going to their office possibly be?
I rose early Friday morning. Before I called, I took the second at-home pregnancy test in the box. Positive. Shaking, I called Dr. D and Dr. S's office. Here is how the call to their office went:
Later that morning, sitting in the tiny waiting room at Dr. D and Dr. S's office, I felt a panicky fight or flight reaction. My trust in this place was gone.
The same receptionist called me to the front desk.
"We need you to pee in this cup to confirm the pregnancy," she said loudly, shoving a cup at me.
I stood stock-still for a moment, horrified that the quiet but full waiting room was aware of why I was there. Then, I realized that this receptionist had rolled away from the window on her chair without telling me where the restroom was! When I called her back and asked her, she gestured through the door that leads to the private clinic area. Why couldn't she have brought me through that door, away from the waiting room, handed me the cup in privacy and gestured to the restroom that would have been right next to me? Why did she announce my situation to this roomful of strangers?
When I returned to the waiting room, she did the exact same thing to another woman, also about my age and (seemingly) unmarried. She, too, looked horrified. I returned to staring out the window for forty minutes until I was called back around 11:45 AM.
A nurse walked back with me to an exam room I'd never been in before. She took my weight, height, and I explained to her why I was there: I've never been pregnant before, and my home test is positive. I am pretty sure I want to terminate the pregnancy, if termination is still an option.
The nurse seemed awkward and stumbled through her usual questions.
"Smoke? Drink? Drugs? Ever been pregnant bef--?" She halted mid-sentence and then looked at the floor. "Uh," she said, marking her chart.
"Nope, first time," I reminded her, almost laughing to keep from crying in front of her.
She asked me when my last pap smear was, and I explained that I was now seeing a new gynecologist who had recently done a pap smear with normal results.
She told me that Dr. D would be with me shortly. The pee-cup test was positive too, she added before leaving the room. I would need an ultrasound.
An ultrasound.
I hadn't even considered that part of the process until now. What do I know? I've never been pregnant before. Can they not tell how far along the pregnancy is from the urine? Of course I'd need an ultrasound. Why hadn't I thought of that? As I sat on the table in the cold exam room, I wished I had brought my boyfriend with me.
Up until this moment, ultrasounds lived as happy moments in my imagination. Enough movies and television shows had helped me develop a fantasty of what my first ultrasound might be like.
I would be at my wonderful OB/GYNE's office with my husband. We'd have been married for a few or several years at this point. We'd have been trying to get pregnant, and it wouldn't have taken us long to do so. We'd happily look at the image on the screen, huddled together and closer than ever before, admiring the little healthy life that we'd wanted to bring into the world.
Instead, I was now sitting in the ultrasound room, alone, freezing and staring at my blue wool socks that I'd kept on my feet. I avoided looking at the massive ultrasound machine that hovered close to me like an unwelcome and imposing visitor.
Dr. D breezed into the room and talked with me about the situation.
"This is unexpected?" she asked. "Unwanted?" She asked me how I was doing, and I cried just a little.
She explained to me that she'd do the ultrasound to estimate how far along I was.
She pointed out a phallic-looking ultrasound wand. "Most likely, we'll need to do an internal ultrasound because you'd have to be further along for the abdomen ultrasound. It will feel like a pelvic exam," she said. "But why don't you lay back, and I'll first try to see if I can use the abdomenal wand instead."
I knew she wouldn't need to do the internal ultrasound. I was suddenly very certain that I knew how far along I was, and it would show with the regular ultrasound. I was almost angry with Dr. D for suggesting reassuringly that the regular ultrasound would be unnecessary. Why say that? Why conjecture? Why plant any hope or expectation in your patient's mind?
"Would you like to see it?" she asked before she started the abdomenal ultrasound.
"No," I said very quickly. "I don't want to see it."
Dr. D squeezed jelly onto the wand and pressed it against my abdomen. She slid it against my skin, paused, slid again, paused. I stared up at the flourescent lights, my eyes burning, and then squeezed my eyes shut.
I felt faint, nauseous, and my heart was slamming around in my chest like it was trying to break free from this room, from this situation.
"Okay, there is a pregnancy that I can see," she said. "We won't need to do the internal."
I exhaled and sucked air back in, realizing that I hadn't been breathing.
"It's healthy," she added.
Dr. D explained she'd take a few snapshots to measure the fetus. I kept my eyes shut and waited until she was done.
"Okay," she said. "It looks like the pregnancy is about twelve weeks along." The room spun, even with my eyes closed. "You can go ahead and sit up."
I sat up and opened my eyes. To my right, the hovering ultrasound glowed, its screen facing toward me still showing the image of the fetus inside of me. I only saw it for a moment, just long enough to register a little head and nose, arms and a body curled up and facing left.
It looked like a baby.
It looked exactly like the ultrasound that I had imagined for my future.
"Can you please turn that off?" I said weakly, my eyes shut again.
"What?" Dr. D asked. She had rolled away on her chair to toss gloves into a trash bin. "Oh!" she said, sounding startled.
I heard the machine clicking.
"You can open your eyes," she said. I glanced at the screen, now empty of any image. "I'm so sorry," she said, placing a hand on my knee.
I was angry with her, I wanted to scream and cry. I wanted to ask her how she could be so negligent, how her staff could be so unprofessional and insensitive, how it could be okay to run a practice like this. But instead, I said nothing. I looked up at her, and she repeated that she was sorry. I nodded, and she left me to change back into my clothes before we discussed my options.
I've thought a lot about this moment since then. I'm still shocked, though I no longer become viscerally upset when I think about it.
Every single person I have told--my boyfriend, my best friend, my therapist, my parents--has immediately said they each think that Dr. D left the image on the screen intentionally as a subtle "forgetful moment" to make an impression on me.
That's possible. The pro-baby feel of that office was pretty obvious the whole time I was there and was hammered home with that unwarranted 'Congratulations!' when I made my appointment.
But I think that all these people jump to the conclusion that it was intentional because it is so hard to imagine a female gynecologist, dealing with a patient who is so clearly shaken by her situation, making that mistake. Mistakes happen, but this mistake shouldn't have.
I will never know why I saw that image, if it was a human error or an intentional move. But I have to accept that it happened and move on.
Dr. D returned to the room and explained what options were open to me. She asked if I was sure termination was right for me, and then said I'd probably have a dilation and cutterage procedure. She would be wrong about that guess too.
She apologetically explained she could not do the procedure for me. "My hospital network does not allow me to do second trimester abortions, except in cases of danger to the mother's health," she said. Again, I don't know if it was her intention, but I suddenly felt a wave of guilt for my decision: For this procedure, I wouldn't get an OB/GYNE I'd seen for years because I was making a choice that is unsupported by her employer.
But I also felt like saying, 'Hey lady, it's okay. You have done enough already. Trust me.'
When I left Dr. D's office that day, the receptionist, seemingly in an effort to fully botch the entire experience at this appointment, forgot to give me some of the information I was promised on who to contact for abortion services. Again, what was probably a mistake felt somewhat like an intentional move to influence my decision by keeping me from full access to the information I needed.
As I left, the receptionist also told me that I might receive a survey in the mail from the hospital network they are associated with, and yeah, I am looking forward to receiving that survey.
If I don't get the survey in the mail, I plan to write a letter about my many experiences with that office to the hospital network and to Dr. D and Dr. S.: An unprofessional and seemingly incompetant staff who mixed up prescriptions and appointments for years; Contradictory statements from the doctors and shallow, non-systemic approaches to reproductive health; Intentionally or unintentionally showing an upset patient who wants to terminate her pregnancy her first trimester ultrasound; Neglecting to provide a patient with full pregnancy termination information material.
It's absymal, and I wish I could get on Yelp and share my experience there with every woman who might look at that site for guidance.
The great thing is that I never have to go back to that office again.
I kept that Monday appointment with my new gynecologist, Dr. T, and told her what happened with the ultrasound. She shook her head but, like the professional she is, kept her mouth shut and her opinion to herself. Her staff, from the receptionist who first scheduled my appointment to the nurse who took my vitals, reserved their felicitations or regrets on my pregnancy, like the professionals they are too.
I told Dr. T that former OB/GYNE Dr. D had told me I would have a D&C. Dr. T quickly said that she would not make any guesses about the procedure. "It could be a D&C, but it could also be a D&E," she said. "I don't know, and only the physicians who will do your procedure at the hospital can tell you that. They'll make the choice that's best for you."
I should also add that Dr. T asked me if I would be interested in an IUD after the procedure and why I hadn't had one implanted before. I explained that, when I had asked her a year prior, former OB/GYNE Dr. S told me that a woman who had not been pregnant could not have an IUD. Dr. T responded that that used to be the case, but for the last five years or more, more and more doctors have moved toward IUD implantation for all women. I sighed and said that I wished I had gone to her a long time ago.
At that appointment with Dr. T, I felt safe and calm for the first time since finding out I was pregnant. I felt confident in my choice and in my doctor.
Shouldn't it always be that way for every woman?
That's why I am writing this post--to share my experience and urge any woman who might have stumbled upon my blog to be sure their doctor is one they trust. I had my doubts about that first office. I brushed them aside and stuck with them for months, years. In pushing down that doubt, I trusted these doctors to handle my health, my body and me with a respect and professionalism that they and their staff obviously lack.
I learned the hard way that my instincts were right. I deserved better, and thankfully, I now have it. I hope that anyone reading this entry has the best health care providers she deserves too.
It's important to me that I share this story because I know so many young women my age who don't have strong, trustful relationships with their gynecologists. When you're young, healthy and don't have many problems, it's easy to go in for your annual pap smear or your latest birth control prescription and be on your way.
I found my old gynecologists through two search methods. First, their office showed up in a location search on insurance provider's website. Their practice was two blocks away from my work office. Second, I Googled one doctor (Dr. S) and found she had a handful of positive reviews on Yelp. The glowing five star reviews, in retrospect, describe the bare minimum of what a gynecologist should provide her patients: answered questions, made patient feel comfortable, handled the birth of a child.
Good enough for me, I figured at the time. I thought Dr. S, upon meeting her, seemed way more manic than the reviewers had suggested. I felt a bit rushed and like Dr. S might be taking some kind of upper in the breakroom, but she was nice enough, my vag was in good condition and all was well.
But all didn't stay well, as I explained at length in another entry. It took a plethora of vaginal infections to discover that Dr. S and her colleague who I preferred, Dr. D, did not have an approach to women's reproductive health that was holistic or systemic. They were fine for your annual pap, but that was it.
(In fact, around the time that I had these ongoing infections, a Yelp review went up that explained, more or less, "If you have real problems or issues with your reproductive health, then this is not the practice you want to go to.")
This winter I found a new gynecologist, Dr. T, who I saw one time and loved. I couldn't shut up to anyone who might listen about how great she is, how wonderful her approach is, how the entire office is more like a spa and less like a cold clinic.
Naturally, when I got those two pink lines on my at-home pregnancy test, I called Dr. T's office. Here is how my call with her office went:
Dr. T's Receptionist: Hi, this is (Your New Gynecologist's Office at This Awesome Women's Health Institute). How can I help you?
Me: Hi, I'm a patient of Dr. T's, and I just took a pregnancy test. And it's positive.
Dr. T's Receptionist: Okay, when did you want to see Dr. T?
Me: As soon as possible. This isn't a planned pregnancy, and I'm really concerned about how far along I might be.
Dr. T's Receptionist: Okay, let me look... Dr. T is out of the office until next Monday. She can see you that morning.
Me: Oh. (It's Thursday afternoon at this point.) Uh, I guess that's going to have to work.
Dr. T's Receptionist: I'm really sorry about that. I've got you marked down here, and she'll be able to go over everything with you.
I was very, very disappointed. When I broke the news to my boyfriend and we discussed our concerns that I might be far along (as I was), he urged me to call my shitty former gynecologists' office to try to squeeze in an appointment the next morning. We talked about how I had come not to trust these doctors but agreed that we wanted to know as soon as possible how far along we were and what our options would be. Time was of the essence, and since it was already after 6 PM on Thursday evening, I would have to call first thing in the morning and take care of it. After all, how bad could going to their office possibly be?
I rose early Friday morning. Before I called, I took the second at-home pregnancy test in the box. Positive. Shaking, I called Dr. D and Dr. S's office. Here is how the call to their office went:
Dr. D and S's Receptionist: Hi, this is (That Really Terrible Gynecologists' Office You Used To Go To).
Me: Hi, I'm a patient of both Dr. D and Dr. S's. I would like to schedule an appointment with them as soon as possible. I took a pregnancy test, and it's positive.
Dr. D and S's Receptionist: Ooooh!!! Congratulations! You must be so excited!
Me: (Silent, breathing.) Um, this isn't a planned pregnancy, and it isn't wanted. I need to find out how far along I am quickly. Dr. S prescribed me a three month birth control cycle, and I'm concerned that I am really far along now.
Dr. D and S's Receptionist: Oh. (Silence.) Well, our first available appointment is next Wednesday.
Me: Next Wednesday?? (I have never had to wait this long for an appointment with this office.) Nevermind. (I pause for a second, feeling extremely upset with this receptionist, who I've dealt with multiple times in the past and has always seemed pretty clueless.) You know, both Dr. D and Dr. S have told me that if I ever had any issue that was pressing, I could be fit in. This needs to be taken care of quickly. I need to know as soon as possible how far along I am, but if your office can't do that for me, then fine.
Dr. D and S's Receptionist: Uhhh... Let me check with the doctors real fast. (I'm put on hold for a minute.) Ok, they can see you today at 11 AM.
Later that morning, sitting in the tiny waiting room at Dr. D and Dr. S's office, I felt a panicky fight or flight reaction. My trust in this place was gone.
The same receptionist called me to the front desk.
"We need you to pee in this cup to confirm the pregnancy," she said loudly, shoving a cup at me.
I stood stock-still for a moment, horrified that the quiet but full waiting room was aware of why I was there. Then, I realized that this receptionist had rolled away from the window on her chair without telling me where the restroom was! When I called her back and asked her, she gestured through the door that leads to the private clinic area. Why couldn't she have brought me through that door, away from the waiting room, handed me the cup in privacy and gestured to the restroom that would have been right next to me? Why did she announce my situation to this roomful of strangers?
When I returned to the waiting room, she did the exact same thing to another woman, also about my age and (seemingly) unmarried. She, too, looked horrified. I returned to staring out the window for forty minutes until I was called back around 11:45 AM.
A nurse walked back with me to an exam room I'd never been in before. She took my weight, height, and I explained to her why I was there: I've never been pregnant before, and my home test is positive. I am pretty sure I want to terminate the pregnancy, if termination is still an option.
The nurse seemed awkward and stumbled through her usual questions.
"Smoke? Drink? Drugs? Ever been pregnant bef--?" She halted mid-sentence and then looked at the floor. "Uh," she said, marking her chart.
"Nope, first time," I reminded her, almost laughing to keep from crying in front of her.
She asked me when my last pap smear was, and I explained that I was now seeing a new gynecologist who had recently done a pap smear with normal results.
She told me that Dr. D would be with me shortly. The pee-cup test was positive too, she added before leaving the room. I would need an ultrasound.
An ultrasound.
I hadn't even considered that part of the process until now. What do I know? I've never been pregnant before. Can they not tell how far along the pregnancy is from the urine? Of course I'd need an ultrasound. Why hadn't I thought of that? As I sat on the table in the cold exam room, I wished I had brought my boyfriend with me.
Up until this moment, ultrasounds lived as happy moments in my imagination. Enough movies and television shows had helped me develop a fantasty of what my first ultrasound might be like.
I would be at my wonderful OB/GYNE's office with my husband. We'd have been married for a few or several years at this point. We'd have been trying to get pregnant, and it wouldn't have taken us long to do so. We'd happily look at the image on the screen, huddled together and closer than ever before, admiring the little healthy life that we'd wanted to bring into the world.
Instead, I was now sitting in the ultrasound room, alone, freezing and staring at my blue wool socks that I'd kept on my feet. I avoided looking at the massive ultrasound machine that hovered close to me like an unwelcome and imposing visitor.
Dr. D breezed into the room and talked with me about the situation.
"This is unexpected?" she asked. "Unwanted?" She asked me how I was doing, and I cried just a little.
She explained to me that she'd do the ultrasound to estimate how far along I was.
She pointed out a phallic-looking ultrasound wand. "Most likely, we'll need to do an internal ultrasound because you'd have to be further along for the abdomen ultrasound. It will feel like a pelvic exam," she said. "But why don't you lay back, and I'll first try to see if I can use the abdomenal wand instead."
I knew she wouldn't need to do the internal ultrasound. I was suddenly very certain that I knew how far along I was, and it would show with the regular ultrasound. I was almost angry with Dr. D for suggesting reassuringly that the regular ultrasound would be unnecessary. Why say that? Why conjecture? Why plant any hope or expectation in your patient's mind?
"Would you like to see it?" she asked before she started the abdomenal ultrasound.
"No," I said very quickly. "I don't want to see it."
Dr. D squeezed jelly onto the wand and pressed it against my abdomen. She slid it against my skin, paused, slid again, paused. I stared up at the flourescent lights, my eyes burning, and then squeezed my eyes shut.
I felt faint, nauseous, and my heart was slamming around in my chest like it was trying to break free from this room, from this situation.
"Okay, there is a pregnancy that I can see," she said. "We won't need to do the internal."
I exhaled and sucked air back in, realizing that I hadn't been breathing.
"It's healthy," she added.
Dr. D explained she'd take a few snapshots to measure the fetus. I kept my eyes shut and waited until she was done.
"Okay," she said. "It looks like the pregnancy is about twelve weeks along." The room spun, even with my eyes closed. "You can go ahead and sit up."
I sat up and opened my eyes. To my right, the hovering ultrasound glowed, its screen facing toward me still showing the image of the fetus inside of me. I only saw it for a moment, just long enough to register a little head and nose, arms and a body curled up and facing left.
It looked like a baby.
It looked exactly like the ultrasound that I had imagined for my future.
"Can you please turn that off?" I said weakly, my eyes shut again.
"What?" Dr. D asked. She had rolled away on her chair to toss gloves into a trash bin. "Oh!" she said, sounding startled.
I heard the machine clicking.
"You can open your eyes," she said. I glanced at the screen, now empty of any image. "I'm so sorry," she said, placing a hand on my knee.
I was angry with her, I wanted to scream and cry. I wanted to ask her how she could be so negligent, how her staff could be so unprofessional and insensitive, how it could be okay to run a practice like this. But instead, I said nothing. I looked up at her, and she repeated that she was sorry. I nodded, and she left me to change back into my clothes before we discussed my options.
I've thought a lot about this moment since then. I'm still shocked, though I no longer become viscerally upset when I think about it.
Every single person I have told--my boyfriend, my best friend, my therapist, my parents--has immediately said they each think that Dr. D left the image on the screen intentionally as a subtle "forgetful moment" to make an impression on me.
That's possible. The pro-baby feel of that office was pretty obvious the whole time I was there and was hammered home with that unwarranted 'Congratulations!' when I made my appointment.
But I think that all these people jump to the conclusion that it was intentional because it is so hard to imagine a female gynecologist, dealing with a patient who is so clearly shaken by her situation, making that mistake. Mistakes happen, but this mistake shouldn't have.
I will never know why I saw that image, if it was a human error or an intentional move. But I have to accept that it happened and move on.
Dr. D returned to the room and explained what options were open to me. She asked if I was sure termination was right for me, and then said I'd probably have a dilation and cutterage procedure. She would be wrong about that guess too.
She apologetically explained she could not do the procedure for me. "My hospital network does not allow me to do second trimester abortions, except in cases of danger to the mother's health," she said. Again, I don't know if it was her intention, but I suddenly felt a wave of guilt for my decision: For this procedure, I wouldn't get an OB/GYNE I'd seen for years because I was making a choice that is unsupported by her employer.
But I also felt like saying, 'Hey lady, it's okay. You have done enough already. Trust me.'
When I left Dr. D's office that day, the receptionist, seemingly in an effort to fully botch the entire experience at this appointment, forgot to give me some of the information I was promised on who to contact for abortion services. Again, what was probably a mistake felt somewhat like an intentional move to influence my decision by keeping me from full access to the information I needed.
As I left, the receptionist also told me that I might receive a survey in the mail from the hospital network they are associated with, and yeah, I am looking forward to receiving that survey.
If I don't get the survey in the mail, I plan to write a letter about my many experiences with that office to the hospital network and to Dr. D and Dr. S.: An unprofessional and seemingly incompetant staff who mixed up prescriptions and appointments for years; Contradictory statements from the doctors and shallow, non-systemic approaches to reproductive health; Intentionally or unintentionally showing an upset patient who wants to terminate her pregnancy her first trimester ultrasound; Neglecting to provide a patient with full pregnancy termination information material.
It's absymal, and I wish I could get on Yelp and share my experience there with every woman who might look at that site for guidance.
The great thing is that I never have to go back to that office again.
I kept that Monday appointment with my new gynecologist, Dr. T, and told her what happened with the ultrasound. She shook her head but, like the professional she is, kept her mouth shut and her opinion to herself. Her staff, from the receptionist who first scheduled my appointment to the nurse who took my vitals, reserved their felicitations or regrets on my pregnancy, like the professionals they are too.
I told Dr. T that former OB/GYNE Dr. D had told me I would have a D&C. Dr. T quickly said that she would not make any guesses about the procedure. "It could be a D&C, but it could also be a D&E," she said. "I don't know, and only the physicians who will do your procedure at the hospital can tell you that. They'll make the choice that's best for you."
I should also add that Dr. T asked me if I would be interested in an IUD after the procedure and why I hadn't had one implanted before. I explained that, when I had asked her a year prior, former OB/GYNE Dr. S told me that a woman who had not been pregnant could not have an IUD. Dr. T responded that that used to be the case, but for the last five years or more, more and more doctors have moved toward IUD implantation for all women. I sighed and said that I wished I had gone to her a long time ago.
At that appointment with Dr. T, I felt safe and calm for the first time since finding out I was pregnant. I felt confident in my choice and in my doctor.
Shouldn't it always be that way for every woman?
That's why I am writing this post--to share my experience and urge any woman who might have stumbled upon my blog to be sure their doctor is one they trust. I had my doubts about that first office. I brushed them aside and stuck with them for months, years. In pushing down that doubt, I trusted these doctors to handle my health, my body and me with a respect and professionalism that they and their staff obviously lack.
I learned the hard way that my instincts were right. I deserved better, and thankfully, I now have it. I hope that anyone reading this entry has the best health care providers she deserves too.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Can I get pregnant while on my period?
YES.
Yes you can, I am here to tell you because I did get pregnant while on my period... after taking birth control regularly for 5 years.
My former OB/GYNE told me at my first ultrasound that the odds of getting pregnant on birth control, during your period, are 1 in 1000... hence the blog name.
But I visited my new and awesome gynecologist earlier this week, and she gave me some different odds after we pulled out her contraceptive efficacy chart: 2 in 1000.
I tried to visualize what I might look like. I pictured one thousand women standing in some beautiful pastoral field, and there's me and some other girl practically bursting with pregnancy like the two omens we are of "perfect" birth control use.
Since I'm not about to rally that picture into existence, here's an infographic I threw together:
CRAZY, RIGHT?
You can't help but feel cheated when you've been "responsible" but still wound up knocked up when you look at that chart.
And it's not like I've always been perfect about birth control. Unlike a few of my friends, I didn't set timers on my phone to take the pill at the exact same time each day. But particularly in the last year or more, given my very active sex life with my boyfriend (we are crazy about each other), I have been diligent. So that image is killer.
I am posting this because I remember asking that question myself years ago and hearing that the chances were so slim, so unlikely. I remember my best girl friend, the only friend I've told about my planned abortion, telling me that it could happen years ago.
So if you're like me and have an awesome boyfriend who still loves sex during that special time of the month, and you've maybe wondered about your chances of getting pregnant are, here I am to tell you.
Just imagine me, one of those hot pink, knocked up ladies up there warning you: Yes, you can get pregnant on your period. So please be careful, take extra precautions, and know that just because your odds are good does not mean that they will work in your favor.
Yes you can, I am here to tell you because I did get pregnant while on my period... after taking birth control regularly for 5 years.
My former OB/GYNE told me at my first ultrasound that the odds of getting pregnant on birth control, during your period, are 1 in 1000... hence the blog name.
But I visited my new and awesome gynecologist earlier this week, and she gave me some different odds after we pulled out her contraceptive efficacy chart: 2 in 1000.
I tried to visualize what I might look like. I pictured one thousand women standing in some beautiful pastoral field, and there's me and some other girl practically bursting with pregnancy like the two omens we are of "perfect" birth control use.
Since I'm not about to rally that picture into existence, here's an infographic I threw together:
CRAZY, RIGHT?
You can't help but feel cheated when you've been "responsible" but still wound up knocked up when you look at that chart.
And it's not like I've always been perfect about birth control. Unlike a few of my friends, I didn't set timers on my phone to take the pill at the exact same time each day. But particularly in the last year or more, given my very active sex life with my boyfriend (we are crazy about each other), I have been diligent. So that image is killer.
I am posting this because I remember asking that question myself years ago and hearing that the chances were so slim, so unlikely. I remember my best girl friend, the only friend I've told about my planned abortion, telling me that it could happen years ago.
So if you're like me and have an awesome boyfriend who still loves sex during that special time of the month, and you've maybe wondered about your chances of getting pregnant are, here I am to tell you.
Just imagine me, one of those hot pink, knocked up ladies up there warning you: Yes, you can get pregnant on your period. So please be careful, take extra precautions, and know that just because your odds are good does not mean that they will work in your favor.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
How I got my values, got here, got knocked up
My views and how I got 'em
I was raised by liberal parents in one of the reddest counties in the country.
I don’t remember discussing pro-choice values with my family, but I do remember when abortion would come up in my classes at school. Somewhere along the way, I developed my pro-choice beliefs and debated with my classmates about the true value of life, a woman’s rights and what a government can and cannot control about its citizens’ physical bodies. I can count on one hand the number of students who agreed with me.
When these pro-choice/pro-life conversations came up, I always added as a caveat or a conceit (to the pro-life students or to myself, I am now not sure): “But I could never do it myself.”
And that’s the line I’ve been towing—more or less—ever since.
Sex, the pill and staying"unpregnant"
When I became sexually active in college, my college boyfriend and I had many discussions about birth control and abortion. We both equated staying unpregnant with being responsible. I took oral birth control, riding a rocky hormonal road on triphasic pills until I settled into a monophasic pill that worked for me, albeit all while zapping my libido. That ex-boyfriend used condoms as an extra precaution, mainly because he didn’t trust my reliability with my pill or the pill itself.
We were responsible young adults, going to a top university, with stellar records behind us and bright futures ahead of us. Pregnancy in college and at the beginning of our professional careers was simply not an option. It didn’t exist as a possibility, as far as I was concerned, and thus, abortion didn’t exist as a difficult possibility either.
My current boyfriend is my second sexual partner. We have been together since December 2009. When we began dating we had the usual birth control discussion. We talked about our options and when he brought up his past experiences with abortion—two of his exes had terminations, I repeated my line to him: “You should know: I could never do that.”
I countinued taking my monophasic pill like normal until September 2010.
Horrible terrible no good very bad infections, lousy and lazy gynecologists, and changing my menstruation schedule
In the summer of 2010, I started to have almost monthly vaginal infections. I’ll spare you the details, but it was not pleasant for me, my body, my boyfriend or our sex life. I remember sobbing, frustrated and wondering what was wrong with me.
My instinct told me that these infections seemed to be related to stress, maybe diet and my period. In September, I made yet another appointment with my gynecologist, intending to truly tackle the problem this time instead of just getting another prescription to fix its symptoms.
When I visited my gynecologist, Dr. S, I asked her about diet and stress. She scrunched up her face and quickly said, ‘Oh no. Your diet would not affect this system,” which seemed strange to me. Really? What I put inside me doesn’t affect my body? Even this part of it? Dr. S didn’t address the stress issue.
After an examination, Dr. S decided that I might have herpes based on some scarring she saw around my vagina.
Dr. S is manic in her bedside nature, rattled through a couple options, and then said she wanted me to begin taking my monophasic pill for three months straight, skipping periods. The blood’s lower pH levels could be throwing my vagina out of whack, she explained. Eliminating the period might eliminate the problem.
My boyfriend was not comfortable with this decision. “It’s not natural,” he said. “You’re fighting with nature.” I pointed out that the pill itself fights with nature, and as I began the new schedule, I was relieved to find that the infections went away.
It did feel wrong to go without a period, but I wasn’t too worried. I took my birth control daily, though not as spot-on as to the same moment each day. Come three months later, I got my period in early December.
Following my period, I got another infection. Frustrated, I scheduled an appointment at the same office but with Dr. S's colleague, who had treated me once before in the summer of 2010, Dr. D.
Dr. D's bedside manner was calm, collected and reassuring. The antithesis, it turned out, to Dr. S. When I saw Dr. D in the past, she questioned the herpes diagnosis, said she wouldn't want to prescribe any herpes medications based only on a blood test, suggested scarring could be related to an intense sexual experience or two, and wanted to wait to treat me for anything until I had another infection and she could take a culture.
But when I saw her in December 2010, Dr. D suddenly said that she wanted me to take a herpes blood test to determine our next course of action. If the results were positive, then I would go on herpes medication. If they were negative, then I would begin using a topical cream for my vagina meant to thicken and toughen its skin. Problem with the cream is that it actually thins your vaginal skin before thickening it, and ultimately, you can't use it very long because it will eventually thin the skin again. Uh, what?
I reminded her that she once said that she didn't want to rely solely on herpes blood tests. (I have oral herpes/cold sores, and hence my blood test would come back positive.) She had wanted to take a culture (which she wasn't able to get that day) for positive results.
"I just don't want you to suffer anymore," she said. I took the paperwork for the blood tests and left, vowing to find a new gynecologist for the next time I might need one. I continued taking my birth control pills.
A new, shiny, better holistic gynecologist
In February 2011 I had another infection. This one seemed easier to track its causes, but I decided it was time to see a new doctor and at least get acquainted.
I found a holistic doctor who has integrative medicine training and an acupuncture license, in addition to her western medical degree. By the time I saw her, the infection had cleared up with the help of some Monistat, but I was still psyched to meet this doctor.
We first talked for almost a half hour about my diet, my life, my routines. I felt like I was talking with my therapist. Based on what I shared with her, she decided that stress (I hate my job, my finances are in terrible shape, and my parents have been living with me for six months) and diet (I eat fast, on the go, out a lot and lack nutrients) were probably seriously affecting my system. Infections could be related. We decided to do some tests.
First she did my annual pap smear (All normal, which in hindsight seems weird. Do pap smears not tell us we're preggers?) and some blood tests (Again, too bad we didn't test for hCG.). She was right about some nutrients and levels being seriously low, so I planned to make an appointment to discuss supplements with her.
A few days later on Sunday, February 27, I started my first placebo pill for my next menstruation. I waited until Wednesday for my period. It did not come.
Two pink lines
I've always been one of those girls who freaks regularly that she is pregnant. Like plenty of ladies out there, I've gone out and bought pregnancy tests, peed and stood shaking until a lovely single pink line appeared or the words "NOT PREGNANT." Sighing with relief, I'd tuck the stick back into its box, wrap it in tissues should anyone visit me and go back to life as normal. Pregnancy tests had become a way of reassuring myself that I was not, in fact, pregnant.
This time felt different even before I got the positive results.
It had been too many days waiting for my period, for one.
I had a pregnancy nightmare the night before I found out. Pregnancy nightmares aren't exactly unexpected for me, but this time, I woke up at 6:30 AM having to pee like the dickens. After running to the bathroom, I tossed and turned in bed with a knot in my stomach for two more hours.
While I hadn't had morning sickness, I hadn't been nauseous, I hadn't gained weight, various teensy-weensy physical things suddenly seemed to scream PREGNANT:
I couldn't relax, and by 4:00 PM I ran home (my office is close), greeted my parents and carried my purse into the bathroom with me, announcing that I wanted to take a quick shower. I turned on the water, did the test and waited for about 30 seconds. My heart pummeled my chest, so I decided I would jump in the shower for the rest of the 3 minute waiting period.
Standing in the shower, I counted the seconds. 120, 121, 122... and tried to ignore how much the water was hurting my breasts. When I got close enough to 3 minutes, I opened the shower curtain and stared at the test where I'd left it on the sink.
Two pink lines.
I don't remember much after this moment, but I do remember feeling like I might pass out, that my head was spinning and trying to think clearly about what to do. I don't remember exactly what I did do. I know I changed clothes and then, thinking it would be weird to go back to the office in different clothes, I changed back. Smiling, I told my parents I didn't need their car for the night anymore. I felt like I was outside of everything my body was doing. Even my voice sounded foreign. I called my girl friends and canceled our plans, claiming to feel like I was coming down with something. Then, I texted my boyfriend.
4:30: Hey. Where are you?
--no response--
4:37: I call, no answer.
4:38: I call, no answer.
4:45: I call, no answer.
4:55: Can you give me acall asap? xo
5:00: He calls and I say that I need to talk to him as soon as possible.
Twenty minutes later, he's getting inside my car. Because of our living situation--he has roommates and my parents have been living with me, we have very little privacy. It seems that talking in the car is the best solution.
When he sits down, I am trying to hold it together and trying to remember how I decided I would tell him. Before I say anything, he says, "It'll be okay."
It'll be okay.
These are the first words I am hearing about this pregnancy, and he doesn't even know it yet. I break down into tears. He pulls my head down and repeats, It'll be okay. I realize he assumes that I haven't gotten a job that I applied for and I need to tell him right this moment. "That's not it," I say. "I'm pregnant."
His grip on my hand loosened and his mouth dropped. He was quiet for a long time.
I wondered if he was thinking back to when I told him my line,“You should know: I could never do that.”
But things change drastically when you are faced with reality: a home pregnancy test sporting those two bright pink lines, a boyfriend who you adore but is not yet your partner, a financially-unstable job that pays you so little you can barely support yourself, no savings and plenty of debt, an emotionally-unstable and inconsistent home environment, living out of a bag and bouncing between your boyfriend's basement apartment and your parentally-occupied apartment.
Suddenly that line I was towing loses its weight in the reality of the moment.
Tomorrow I have my consultation to discuss abortion options and make sure this is what I want to do. Still can't quite wrap my head around the fact that this is happening.
I was raised by liberal parents in one of the reddest counties in the country.
I don’t remember discussing pro-choice values with my family, but I do remember when abortion would come up in my classes at school. Somewhere along the way, I developed my pro-choice beliefs and debated with my classmates about the true value of life, a woman’s rights and what a government can and cannot control about its citizens’ physical bodies. I can count on one hand the number of students who agreed with me.
When these pro-choice/pro-life conversations came up, I always added as a caveat or a conceit (to the pro-life students or to myself, I am now not sure): “But I could never do it myself.”
And that’s the line I’ve been towing—more or less—ever since.
Sex, the pill and staying"unpregnant"
When I became sexually active in college, my college boyfriend and I had many discussions about birth control and abortion. We both equated staying unpregnant with being responsible. I took oral birth control, riding a rocky hormonal road on triphasic pills until I settled into a monophasic pill that worked for me, albeit all while zapping my libido. That ex-boyfriend used condoms as an extra precaution, mainly because he didn’t trust my reliability with my pill or the pill itself.
We were responsible young adults, going to a top university, with stellar records behind us and bright futures ahead of us. Pregnancy in college and at the beginning of our professional careers was simply not an option. It didn’t exist as a possibility, as far as I was concerned, and thus, abortion didn’t exist as a difficult possibility either.
My current boyfriend is my second sexual partner. We have been together since December 2009. When we began dating we had the usual birth control discussion. We talked about our options and when he brought up his past experiences with abortion—two of his exes had terminations, I repeated my line to him: “You should know: I could never do that.”
I countinued taking my monophasic pill like normal until September 2010.
Horrible terrible no good very bad infections, lousy and lazy gynecologists, and changing my menstruation schedule
In the summer of 2010, I started to have almost monthly vaginal infections. I’ll spare you the details, but it was not pleasant for me, my body, my boyfriend or our sex life. I remember sobbing, frustrated and wondering what was wrong with me.
My instinct told me that these infections seemed to be related to stress, maybe diet and my period. In September, I made yet another appointment with my gynecologist, intending to truly tackle the problem this time instead of just getting another prescription to fix its symptoms.
When I visited my gynecologist, Dr. S, I asked her about diet and stress. She scrunched up her face and quickly said, ‘Oh no. Your diet would not affect this system,” which seemed strange to me. Really? What I put inside me doesn’t affect my body? Even this part of it? Dr. S didn’t address the stress issue.
After an examination, Dr. S decided that I might have herpes based on some scarring she saw around my vagina.
Dr. S is manic in her bedside nature, rattled through a couple options, and then said she wanted me to begin taking my monophasic pill for three months straight, skipping periods. The blood’s lower pH levels could be throwing my vagina out of whack, she explained. Eliminating the period might eliminate the problem.
My boyfriend was not comfortable with this decision. “It’s not natural,” he said. “You’re fighting with nature.” I pointed out that the pill itself fights with nature, and as I began the new schedule, I was relieved to find that the infections went away.
It did feel wrong to go without a period, but I wasn’t too worried. I took my birth control daily, though not as spot-on as to the same moment each day. Come three months later, I got my period in early December.
Following my period, I got another infection. Frustrated, I scheduled an appointment at the same office but with Dr. S's colleague, who had treated me once before in the summer of 2010, Dr. D.
Dr. D's bedside manner was calm, collected and reassuring. The antithesis, it turned out, to Dr. S. When I saw Dr. D in the past, she questioned the herpes diagnosis, said she wouldn't want to prescribe any herpes medications based only on a blood test, suggested scarring could be related to an intense sexual experience or two, and wanted to wait to treat me for anything until I had another infection and she could take a culture.
But when I saw her in December 2010, Dr. D suddenly said that she wanted me to take a herpes blood test to determine our next course of action. If the results were positive, then I would go on herpes medication. If they were negative, then I would begin using a topical cream for my vagina meant to thicken and toughen its skin. Problem with the cream is that it actually thins your vaginal skin before thickening it, and ultimately, you can't use it very long because it will eventually thin the skin again. Uh, what?
I reminded her that she once said that she didn't want to rely solely on herpes blood tests. (I have oral herpes/cold sores, and hence my blood test would come back positive.) She had wanted to take a culture (which she wasn't able to get that day) for positive results.
"I just don't want you to suffer anymore," she said. I took the paperwork for the blood tests and left, vowing to find a new gynecologist for the next time I might need one. I continued taking my birth control pills.
A new, shiny, better holistic gynecologist
In February 2011 I had another infection. This one seemed easier to track its causes, but I decided it was time to see a new doctor and at least get acquainted.
I found a holistic doctor who has integrative medicine training and an acupuncture license, in addition to her western medical degree. By the time I saw her, the infection had cleared up with the help of some Monistat, but I was still psyched to meet this doctor.
We first talked for almost a half hour about my diet, my life, my routines. I felt like I was talking with my therapist. Based on what I shared with her, she decided that stress (I hate my job, my finances are in terrible shape, and my parents have been living with me for six months) and diet (I eat fast, on the go, out a lot and lack nutrients) were probably seriously affecting my system. Infections could be related. We decided to do some tests.
First she did my annual pap smear (All normal, which in hindsight seems weird. Do pap smears not tell us we're preggers?) and some blood tests (Again, too bad we didn't test for hCG.). She was right about some nutrients and levels being seriously low, so I planned to make an appointment to discuss supplements with her.
A few days later on Sunday, February 27, I started my first placebo pill for my next menstruation. I waited until Wednesday for my period. It did not come.
Two pink lines
I've always been one of those girls who freaks regularly that she is pregnant. Like plenty of ladies out there, I've gone out and bought pregnancy tests, peed and stood shaking until a lovely single pink line appeared or the words "NOT PREGNANT." Sighing with relief, I'd tuck the stick back into its box, wrap it in tissues should anyone visit me and go back to life as normal. Pregnancy tests had become a way of reassuring myself that I was not, in fact, pregnant.
This time felt different even before I got the positive results.
It had been too many days waiting for my period, for one.
I had a pregnancy nightmare the night before I found out. Pregnancy nightmares aren't exactly unexpected for me, but this time, I woke up at 6:30 AM having to pee like the dickens. After running to the bathroom, I tossed and turned in bed with a knot in my stomach for two more hours.
While I hadn't had morning sickness, I hadn't been nauseous, I hadn't gained weight, various teensy-weensy physical things suddenly seemed to scream PREGNANT:
- Only a few weeks before, my boyfriend remarked that my boobs and nipples were looking bigger.
- I had also noticed that my breasts sometimes hurt when I showered and were more sensitive in general.
- I felt somewhat bloated. But I had recently made a big effort to start drinking tons of water and attributed bloating to suddenly drinking dozens more ounces of water each day.
- In early February, I had been hungry all the time. I felt a combination of hungry and full a lot of the time. But I have a shifting appetite anyway and it was the heart of a cold, snowy winter. I figured my body was doing its instinctive hibernate thing.
I couldn't relax, and by 4:00 PM I ran home (my office is close), greeted my parents and carried my purse into the bathroom with me, announcing that I wanted to take a quick shower. I turned on the water, did the test and waited for about 30 seconds. My heart pummeled my chest, so I decided I would jump in the shower for the rest of the 3 minute waiting period.
Standing in the shower, I counted the seconds. 120, 121, 122... and tried to ignore how much the water was hurting my breasts. When I got close enough to 3 minutes, I opened the shower curtain and stared at the test where I'd left it on the sink.
Two pink lines.
I don't remember much after this moment, but I do remember feeling like I might pass out, that my head was spinning and trying to think clearly about what to do. I don't remember exactly what I did do. I know I changed clothes and then, thinking it would be weird to go back to the office in different clothes, I changed back. Smiling, I told my parents I didn't need their car for the night anymore. I felt like I was outside of everything my body was doing. Even my voice sounded foreign. I called my girl friends and canceled our plans, claiming to feel like I was coming down with something. Then, I texted my boyfriend.
4:30: Hey. Where are you?
--no response--
4:37: I call, no answer.
4:38: I call, no answer.
4:45: I call, no answer.
4:55: Can you give me acall asap? xo
5:00: He calls and I say that I need to talk to him as soon as possible.
Twenty minutes later, he's getting inside my car. Because of our living situation--he has roommates and my parents have been living with me, we have very little privacy. It seems that talking in the car is the best solution.
When he sits down, I am trying to hold it together and trying to remember how I decided I would tell him. Before I say anything, he says, "It'll be okay."
It'll be okay.
These are the first words I am hearing about this pregnancy, and he doesn't even know it yet. I break down into tears. He pulls my head down and repeats, It'll be okay. I realize he assumes that I haven't gotten a job that I applied for and I need to tell him right this moment. "That's not it," I say. "I'm pregnant."
His grip on my hand loosened and his mouth dropped. He was quiet for a long time.
I wondered if he was thinking back to when I told him my line,“You should know: I could never do that.”
But things change drastically when you are faced with reality: a home pregnancy test sporting those two bright pink lines, a boyfriend who you adore but is not yet your partner, a financially-unstable job that pays you so little you can barely support yourself, no savings and plenty of debt, an emotionally-unstable and inconsistent home environment, living out of a bag and bouncing between your boyfriend's basement apartment and your parentally-occupied apartment.
Suddenly that line I was towing loses its weight in the reality of the moment.
Tomorrow I have my consultation to discuss abortion options and make sure this is what I want to do. Still can't quite wrap my head around the fact that this is happening.
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