A couple of weeks ago my sister told me she had a dream that I had a baby. I was immediately like, “Oh no! Was I a nervous wreck in the dream? Did I check on the baby every 30 seconds to make sure he/she was still breathing?” Jess assured me that it was all good. It was a boy and things seemed great. Her dream has no idea what the reality would look like.
Ever since she told me that I’ve been a little bit panicky. Like what if something crazy happened and I got pregnant? That would not be good, my friends. No, I do not hate children. I actually really like kids. Rob and I have just decided that it’s not something we’re going to embark on together. We’ll enjoy his daughter and our pets. I mean Rob is not a spring chicken. He looks like a spring chicken and acts like a spring chicken (totally rides his bike like one), but his drivers license says otherwise. And remember, I’m a bit of a neurotic mess, so there’s that.
Who can afford kids these days anyway? I get together with my girlfriends and they talk about all the lessons their five kids are in (yes, I said five) and I start getting heart palpitations. I mean they obviously have a yearly income of like a million dollars. How else is all this possible?
So in light of this new worry, I’ve been extra diligent about taking those magic pills they call birth control. My doctor prescribed a new brand though and the tablets are chewable. Chewable birth control? What the hell? So I’m chewing them, but I’m worried because little pieces are getting stuck in my teeth. I’m (obviously) obsessively picking them out and swallowing them. What if enough doesn’t make it into my system? Good lord. It is not necessary to have these pills be chewable. They are itty bitty!
Anyway, there’s my latest and greatest worry. I’ve already brought it up with my therapist.