I’ve sought out emergency contraception three times since 2002. In the first part of this article, I shared the situations that got me into trouble. In this part, I’ll share how I got out, and my experiences with the pill itself.

TAKE I:

So, I find myself in trouble, due to two factors: first, the drunk and condom-free attentions of my (newly ex) boyfriend, and second, his unwillingness to deal in any way with the consequences. I solve this problem as I solve all others: by turning to lady friends and Google.

My roommate Kristin and I look up the “morning after” pill, and discover that there’s only one clinic within driving distance that prescribes it. We also discover that EC is only effective if it’s taken seventy-two hours after sex; thanks to my post-breakup moping, I have about twelve hours left. It will take two hours to reach the clinic. We scramble to the car.

When we arrive at the clinic, I am escorted into an exam room, where I meet a blonde woman in a lab coat. I explain my situation, and ask for the EC.

She shakes her head at me. I see pity in her eyes.

“I can’t prescribe those pills to you, honey,” she says. “I’m a Christian.”

This is the precise moment when I start crying. Read More »

I’ve gone to a doctor for emergency contraception three times. Every experience has been different. The first two instances occurred years apart; the second and third happened within months of each other. I’ve gone whilst in monogamous relationships, and after casual sex. I’ve gone to a doctor’s office, an emergency room, and Planned Parenthood. Only one thing remained the same: I was never ready to get pregnant.

EC, for those not in the know, is a blanket term for a variety of medications that change your body’s chemistry to reduce your chances of getting pregnant. Plan B is the most popular, and it’s wonderful for many reasons. Yet, with the exception of the occasions on which various looney-pantsed individuals have pitched a fit about its legality (because we all know that unwed mothers are sacred to the right wing), very few people talk about it.

Because I think this is lame, and because I enjoy sharing a bit too much about my body, I’ve decided to give a run-down of my EC experiences. I’ve split it into two parts: The Problem, in which I almost get pregnant, and The Cure, in which I don’t.

Read away. Read More »