July 30th, 2009 by admin

I started out my first draft of last week’s column a little pissy because of anonymous advertisers’ comments. So for your enjoyment, here are the snarky first draft and then the published version.
Offense is the best defense …
It has come to my attention that some people were offended by a phrase in my last column. I said that my husband and I “took out the goalie,” referring to stopping contraception use.
In deference to them, I will not repeat the words “taking out the goalie” again. Just to be clear, it wasn’t a literal thing. There was no little teeny goalie to remove. So here’s a short history of the contraception route we took to prevent parenthood until we were ready.
Obviously, I went through a condom phase. Everyone should. They’re handy devices that often prevent the spread of disease, and are reasonably effective at corralling man-juice. Even had a boyfriend who “doubled up,” then disappeared into the bathroom afterward to test them and make sure they didn’t break.
I was on the pill for about 15 years. When I first began taking it in college, my debilitating heavy periods eased considerably. So, whether I was in a relationship or a dry spell, I stayed on the pill.
Thanks to my enlightened Jackson gynecologists, Dr. Tom Smith, and later, Dr. Annie Fenn, I took the pill continuously for several months, having a period only every few months. There’s now a pill marketed for that purpose, Seasonique.
After a while, my tree-hugging sister voiced her worries about all the hormones I was ingesting. I touted the pill’s benefits in protecting me against endometriosis, ovarian cysts, etc. Not to mention protecting me against babies, which I wasn’t prepared for, I reminded my sister, who at my last count had four children. Traveling to Memphis to watch her try to manage the four-ring circus was a dose of birth control in itself.
Still, I began to wonder whether all those hormones were good for me, so I tried the NuvaRing, a nifty device that delivered a smaller dose of hormones directly to the baby-delivering zone. My hubby decided that he wasn’t a fan of the ringy dingy thingy after it escaped one too many times. Finding it in the sheets later was a buzz kill.
Back to the pill.
I had a few minor “baby pains” back in 2001. These are a faint desire to be maternal, tempered by reality like debt, emotional immaturity and the living situation of an indentured servant. So we acquired another birth control item: a puppy.
Mojo did child-like things. He needed consistent attention, peed on the floor so many times we considered diapers, entertained us with his antics and cost a few hundred dollars in shots and minor surgeries for a deeply cut paw and a growth on his ear. Good parenting training, if you ask me.
Around this time, several celebrities began mysteriously getting pregnant, ostensibly accidentally. A few of them are still with the Baby Daddy. “With all the technology available,” I sputtered to anyone who would listen, “how in the world are they still going ‘Oops!’”
A few things I never tried. The sponge? Ewww. The diaphragm? So 1970s. The shot? I hate needles, and the unpredictable periods it can cause scared away my inner control freak. Norplant? Way too alien-implant for me. The Mirena IUD seems great. I made an appointment for it once, but it’s pretty expensive to insert; it takes about two years for it to be cost-effective.
When it was close to decision time on the procreation front, I stopped taking the pill and started taking prenatal vitamins. We used the “pull and pray” method, as my Catholic friend calls it.
When you’re pregnant, obviously you can’t get pregnant again, so no birth control was necessary. After birth, breastfeeding does suppress ovulation (lactational amenorrhea method), given that the infant is suckling on demand.
My friend Katy resumed taking the pill, as advised by her gynecologist, when her son was about two months old. She said it seemed to cut her breastmilk supply in half, and then when she stopped taking it, her period returned. Not fun either way.
Once the baby’s six months old, or sleeping through the night, or your period returns, another method of birth control is advised. That is, if you and your partner ever have time or energy for sex, given the demands of a baby.
Here we go again.
REWRITTEN
What’s the one scenario potentially more exhausting than having twin infants? Getting pregnant again shortly after giving birth and having kids about a year apart.
Last fall, Christy, the wife of one of my hubby’s softball buddies, was nursing her 7-month-old child and unexpectedly got pregnant with her second. She and her husband “were not really paying much attention,” she said. In the back of her mind, she knew that she wasn’t using a birth control method and that another pregnancy was possible.
“Definitely do not rely on breastfeeding” as a method of birth control, is Christy’s advice to new moms.
Breastfeeding does suppress ovulation, but only to a point, according to Miriam Labbok, who wrote a paper in 1993 about the “lactational amenorrhea method” – read: breastfeeding – of family planning. She writes that your chance of pregnancy is less than 2 percent (comparable to the pill) if the infant is less than six months old, if your period has not returned and if you’re breastfeeding full-time, or nearly full-time. Clinical trials have proven such.
Once baby’s six months old, or sleeping through the night, or your period returns, another method of birth control is advised.
But as LAM is a natural, human method of birth control, it’s subject to pilot error. If you left your infant for a couple days, or let her sleep through the night without waking her up to eat, for instance, you could ovulate. That’s without getting a “warning period.”
My friend Katy began using the NuvaRing, as advised by her gynecologist, when her son was about 2 months old. She said the device, which slowly delivers hormones to the baby-delivering area, seemed to cut her breastmilk supply in half. This has been documented; the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists says hormonal birth control “is acceptable if women are informed of the risk of a decreased milk supply.”
So for me, or for most any woman who wants to keep breastfeeding exclusively, that’s out.
At my six-week postpartum doctor’s appointment, Dr. Doug George asked me what method of birth control we planned on using. I repeated Katy’s anectdotal information.
“So I’m not ready to get back on the pill,” I said. “Besides, I’m not sure whether we want another child or not. I think we’re going to just ‘pull and pray’ for now, as my Catholic friend calls it. If it happens, it happens.”
“That’s fine,” Dr. George replied. “Just as long as you know, it’s not 100 percent effective.”
For 16 years, I was a pro at not getting pregnant.
I first began taking the pill in college, and my debilitating heavy periods eased considerably. So, whether I was in a relationship or a dry spell, in addition to condoms, I stayed on the pill.
With the consent of my enlightened Jackson gynecologists, Dr. Tom Smith, and later, Dr. Annie Fenn, I took the pill continuously for several months, having a period only every few months. There’s now a pill marketed for that purpose, Seasonique.
After a while, my tree-hugging sister voiced her worries about all the hormones I was ingesting. I touted the pill’s benefits in protecting me against endometriosis, ovarian cysts, etc. Not to mention protecting me against babies, which I wasn’t prepared for, I reminded my sister, who at my last count had four children. Traveling to Memphis to watch her try to manage the four-ring circus was a dose of birth control in itself.
Still, I began to wonder whether all those hormones were good for me, so I tried the NuvaRing. We quite the ringy dingy thingy after it escaped its assigned seating one too many times.
Back to the pill.
I had a few minor “baby pains” back in 2001. These were a faint desire to be maternal, tempered by reality like debt, emotional immaturity and the living situation of an indentured servant.
So we acquired another birth control item: a puppy.
Mojo did child-like things. He needed consistent attention, peed on the floor so many times we considered diapers, entertained us with his antics and cost a few hundred dollars in shots and minor surgeries for a deeply cut paw and a growth on his ear. Good parenting training, if you ask me.
Around this time, several celebrities began mysteriously getting pregnant, ostensibly accidentally. A few of them are still with the Baby Daddy. “With all the technology available,” I sputtered to anyone who would listen, “how in the world are they still going ‘Oops!’”
A few things I never tried. The sponge? Ewww. The diaphragm? So 1970s. The shot? I hate needles, and the unpredictable periods it can cause scared away my inner control freak. Norplant? Way too alien-implant for me. The Mirena IUD seems great. I made an appointment for it once, but it’s pretty expensive to insert; it takes about two years for it to be as cost-effective as the pill.
For most of us new mothers, having a newborn requires so much time and attention, we’re not having much sex. That’s the most effective method of birth control I know, but it’s not endorsed by the men in our lives.