I want you to think back to High School. Remember when some teacher, who was undeniably VERY uncomfortable, sat you down in some classroom and made you watch a video about how babies were made. The video that was considered out of date 10 years before you were lucky enough to view it likely repeated the same thing through the 20 minutes of informational diagrams: SEX = Babies.

I know the video that I watched pretty much said one thing and one thing only. If you look at a boy, he’s going to want you to kiss him and if you kiss him you might get pregnant. If you had sex with him you were going to have a baby and if you had protected sex, you were still likely to have a baby, because sex = baby.

So when I started dating my now-husband, I thought long and hard before I let him play “Hide the sausage” because I sure as hell didn’t want a little pants-crapping mini-person running around. I got on the pill, made him wear a condom and things were good. After we were engaged and I had been on the pill for awhile, we decided that the condoms could stop. After all–we wanted kids anyways, so what was the harm if we had an ooopsie baby.

So we had the ceremony and promised to only pester each other for the rest of our lives and friends and family rejoiced. We came home, looked at each other and thought “now is as good as a time as any” and I stopped taking my pill.

One month–two months–three months…hmm, interesting. Well, you know–it does take awhile for the body to get normal again after being on the pill.

Four months, five months, six months….hmmm, wow. Well, surely the pill is gone by NOW. I’m going to start charting and figure out when we should be hugging in that “special way”.

Seven, eight, nine, ten months—Well I’ll be damned. Maybe we’re just not timing it right. Let’s do it more often (:insert excited look from husband:)

Eleven, twelve, thirteen months— Shit.