cooperpedy

Am I Prangent?

Last night, as I closed my eyes in the darkness of my bedroom, I was left alone with my thoughts. Reflecting on how I spent the first few days of the week feeling constipated from last weekend’s irregular eating habits, a tiny voice whispered to me.

“What if you’re pregnant?” 

I wound back the clock to the moment my GP untangled my Implanon from the inside of my arm and guided it through a tiny incision she had made. She reminded me to use protection and advised me to look into getting an IUD - a form of contraception that I have never heard of until this moment. When I explained to her that the reason I was getting it taken out was because I had my period for 3 week on, 1 week off intervals for the past 6 months, she explained to me that this was normal. Along with the depression, nausea and weight gain.

I was well informed of the side effects before getting an Implanon and for the most part it reacted quite well with me for the first two years. But what I did not expect was the part it would play on my mental health later on. After seeing the news about the men who were unable to continue the male contraceptive trial and realising that I had been on birth control since I was 13 years old (I began using it as an acne treatment) I decided enough was enough.

Although taking out the Implanon was as if something had finally plugged me up, relieving me of the cascading falls of hell fire coming out my vagina, which in turn improved my mood dramatically, I realised:

“Fuck, what if I’m pregnant?”

It has been just over a month since I was cleared of birth control, which means I was one month deep into the danger zone with no protective gear on. My boyfriend and I have been quite responsible. Condoms make the clean up easier, anyway.  Yet, there have been two drunken occasions in which the pull out card was played and there’s no percentage of accuracy on that packet.

As I lay there in my bed, I began to ponder a question a lot of women will face at least once in their lives. I personally have asked myself maybe around 7 times and have taken maybe around 5 pregnancy tests. (Cheapest one is $10 by the way and have any of my partners offered to pay even half? No.)

But this time was the first time I’d had to take one after going cold turkey on the birth control, and this time felt real. You know when you just know? My gut instinct was kicking all over the place.

Here’s a list of other questions I asked myself in the span of maybe 5 minutes:

(The questions repeated themselves on multiple occasions)

-        How much is an abortion?

-        Would I make my boyfriend pay for it? We should pay half?

-        Do I want an abortion?

-        Do I just want one because I feel like everyone else thinks I’m too young to have baby?

-        Do I want to have baby?

-        Can I support baby?

-        Can my parents and my boyfriends parents support baby?

-        If I get lots of help for baby, do I want baby?

-        Am I actually capable of taking care of baby?

-        Would we make good parents?

-        Can I have fun if I have baby?

-        How far into the pregnancy can you go before you HAVE to stop drinking?

-        Would my friends still hang out with me if I had baby?

-        Would my friends like baby more than me?

-        Is it my destiny to be that young girl with baby?

-        What if my boyfriend dies and I’ll be left to look after baby alone?

-        What if my boyfriend dies and baby will be half boyfriend and remind me of him for the rest of my life?

-        But what if I get to like 45 years old and send baby off to university and realise that I didn’t have my own life?

-        Can you still have a life after 45?

-        If I have baby, does that mean I wont be able to go on holiday for the next 18 years?

-        Am I physically able to carry baby in my belly?

-        Am I physically able to get baby out my vagina?

-        What drugs do you get to be on when you have baby?

-        Can I get those drugs if I’m not having baby?

-        What if my baby comes out and it looks like an alien?

-        What if I have baby and it is a genius doctor rockstar that saves peoples lives AND does a guitar solo at the same time?

-        What if it’s my fault baby don’t exist?

-        Could I grow baby then put it up for adoption?

By this point in the conversation with myself, I’ve actually become very attached to baby and was mad at myself for suggesting adoption because its my baby, and then I remembered that I don’t actually know if there is a baby.

I also had to remind myself that the baby is not a baby; it’s a tiny egg. It’s a bean. But not a cute one stop thinking that it’s cute it’s not a real thing yet.

I was whirling my thoughts around, confused and frightened and unsure. And scared that I was unsure, my friends who had abortions before me were all so sure, or so it seemed. Because I’m not sure, does that mean I shouldn’t? What does everyone else do? No one really talks about it. I have no idea what I’m going to do.

Yes, I do. I’m going to get an abortion and it will be over and I wont have to feel guilty because many other women go through it and it doesn’t make you a bad person, you are okay and will be okay. It’s your right to choose and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.

I went to the pharmacy the next morning not really knowing how to feel or act or be. A man asked me if I wanted to buy a raffle ticket on the street, which I really did not. When he asked me to give him some of my time, I told him I was “running errands” in a frantic manner. I actually wish I’d bursted out with “I AM ON MY WAY TO BUY A PREGNANCY TEST I DON’T WANT A HAMPER FULL OF OLIVES AND SHORTBREADS RIGHT NOW……….MAYBE LATER THANK YOU ANYWAY” (I wanted to be polite because he was obviously just doing his job)

A girl around the same age as me who worked at the pharmacy asked if I wanted help in a routinely matter before realising I was fumbling my way through the exorbitantly priced pregnancy tests. I grabbed the cheapest one and awkwardly walked to the wrong counter making it very obvious that I was purchasing something to be ashamed about. Even though I was trying my hardest to act casual like I was a 21^st century womb-an who was unemotional about unwanted pregnancies.

Just to make it clear, I wasn’t embarrassed because I think that women who have babies at a younger age are wrong by any means. I genuinely think that anyone has the right to bear children as long as they are a good parent who keeps their child safe and happy and can adequately support the child as well as themselves.

I’m embarrassed because birth control is so fucking accessible you can practically get it in a gumball machine in a supermarket and I STILL manage to get fucking pregnant.

After she scans the box she hands it over the counter to me. I look in her eyes, amused. I ask if I can have a bag. She finally realises she’s allowed to join in with the awkwardness of my situation and cracks a smile. We giggle like friends as she hands the bag over to me. I leave the store sort of smiling, I found solace in the fact that even in a situation like that I can find someone who was sort of feeling for me and with me. ~~~~Sisterhood ~~~~

I arrive at my boyfriends house who is newly alarmed at the prospect of this situation yet doesn’t believe that I am pregnant, not even a little bit pregnant.

He makes a joke at my expense about my situation before I inform him that this is not the fucking time for jokes can you not be such an asshole right now I need emotional support not for you to make fun of me ok now you don’t have to sit outside the bathroom come here and watch what I have to do so you understand what it is like for me.

I’ve been present for at least one positive pregnancy test so I know the two lines show up pretty much straight away. I pee on the stick with a lot of force because like I really want to get it all up in there.  And then I wait. “Under 3 minutes.”

I see the stick turn purple and the liquid crawls through. I’m nervous, but not TOO nervous. Which is good. Whatever will be will be. This is the way it’s meant to be. Everything happens for a reason. This is all part of your journey.

Almost instantly, I see only one line. I wait and wait. Still one line.

“Oh,” I exhale “so I’m not pregnant.”

My boyfriend rejoices and I am relieved of course. I’m also…I don’t know. Not disappointed… just… exhausted really. It was about a 10 hour emotional rollercoaster of if’s and but’s and when’s and how’s… and it was all for nothing. Because I wasn’t pregnant, not even a little bit. There was no bean, not ever.

As I sent out the group message to my closest friends alerting them of what had happened to me, I realised that I couldn’t even type the words pregnant or baby. I felt as if even I was by the tests measure, I wasn’t REALLY pregnant anyway.

Pregnant is for mothers or soon-to-be mothers, for older family members or friends, for newly married couples. It’s for baby showers and maternity clothes. It’s hospital visits and midwives and birthing classes and baby room decoration.

The word pregnancy means the development of a person. But to me, if the intention of a person never develops, then are you really pregnant? (Yes I know scientifically yes they are but try to understand what I’m saying.) A pregnancy is for mothers and fathers. Not for the men who happen to fertilise an egg and the women who happen conceive them and then decide not to go through with it. It’s a conception that falls through, that’s all.