OH... THE PILL

I am no stranger to "The Pill".

My first oxymoronic encounter with this wonder drug was when I was 16 or so. I had an evident "hormone inbalance" that was obviously not going to resolve itself as I progressed through puberty. I was intially presented with a 2-pill cocktail that would regulate all the inbalances, and when these drugs were no longer available (I don't know why, and there was no internet search back then!) I was handed my first package of birth control. Both these prescriptions played wonderfully with my hormones allowing my periods to come regularly with reduced flow, and stopping the hair from growing on my face (the residue of which was removed by very painful first generation electrolysis.) Of course there was the added bonus: BIRTH CONTROL. Ha! Not so necessary for this virginal 16 year old. Oh how amusing it is for me to think of my mother marching into the pharmacy to pick up my birth control persription for me!

Ahhhhh... but then I turned twenty, and the sex was a plenty! Thank goodness for the pill, I said! Talk about killing two birds with one stone! I was in college, living the life, and still had my mother sending me my birth control in the mail. Let's not beat around the bush, I was thankful for my perscription in more ways than one! At last I was able to use the drug for its intended function- with the added bonus of lighter, predicatable periods and perfect skin.

As I reached my decade anniversary of use of the pill, the initial reason for its prescription was but a gray smudge in my history. I had long stopped thinking as my body as abnormal, and couldn't image my life without the pill. My time of heavy, unbearable periods and sidelong glances from strangers at my "sideburns" were ancient history. For all intents and purposes, I forgot that it was doing something in my body other than preventing pregnancy.

Preventing pregnancy with a pill! What a fucking hoot! But I digress.

Enter The C, and marriage, and my last package of pills. For years we discussed having children, and while The C was ready from the day we met, I seemed to be always waiting for the "right time". Alas, I discovered there was never going to be a perfect time, and we might as well get on with it. I made the arbitrary decision to finish my current stash of birth control (which my mother still seemed to procure for me for free from the nurse at the gyn's office. YES! This nurse!), and that would end one period in my life and thus the commencement of another.

After almost half my life on the pill, I was pill free. For 15 months I was without.

And then I encountered the oxymoronic use of the pill for the second time in my life. For use while I was activly trying to get pregnant. I fucking hate taking the pill this time around. There is no status associated with it here. Each new pack of pills I pop open again signifies to me that my body is abnormal. It reminds me that I have just had another failed cycle. It emphasizes the shittyness of not being able to do two medicated cycles in a row. It points out to me that I only have 6 chances for pregnancy a year. I'm not even sure that hate is a stong enough word...

Last night I took my last BCP for this upcoming cycle. CD1 should be next Monday. I can't even tell you how much I hope I don't have to open another package of those suckers for at least 15 months.