On Sunday, December 20, 2009, I did something incredibly exciting. Actually, it was more what I didn’t do that was so exciting. For the first time since February of 2002, I did not start a new pack of birth control pills. As of December 20, A and I were officially “trying”.
I was glowing for days when I realized I could finally stop taking birth control. The secret I had – that we were actually finally able to start trying to conceive – felt like a golden ticket of sorts.
Of course, I am a worrier by nature, and this was no exception. I have struggled with acne for years, and in December I was on a prescription antibiotic as well as a prescription topical creme. My dermatologist recommended I discontinue both immediately, so I stopped that treatment two weeks before I went off the pill. Between the prospect of unregulated hormones and no acne medicine, I was extremely worried about just how nightmarish my face would look in the coming weeks.
I was also concerned about my mental, emotional, and physical health in the coming months. I went on birth control when I was 15 after a bout with ovarian cysts. That means my body only had three years to have a natural cycle before I put it on the pill for almost eight years. What on earth would my hormones do now? Would I be an emotional wreck? Would I gain weight? Does my body even remember how to ovulate?
But all of this was in the back of my mind, really, because I was ecstatic to be off the pill. It was the first step in a much-anticipated journey.
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