Yesterday morning Patrick and I launched into another discussion of “So Do We Really Want To Have a Baby?” We do this about once a month and it always ends in the same manner – we either drop the discussion or laugh it off. So for once and for all we made ourselves finish the conversation.

Just a bit of backstory: A few years ago my doctor informed me that people who suffer from migraines are something like 3 times more likely to have a stroke. For women on the pill who have migraines, that number jumps up to 9 times more likely. After the age of 35, well, it increases even more. So, she told me that when I turn 35, she wants me off the pill. That was fine 4 years ago, but here I am, 7 months away from that “magic number.” Over the years, Patrick and I have joked about it – always laughing about our shrinking window of opportunity.

Yes, I know there are other birth control options, but I really, really like the pill.

Yesterday we decided that at some point I need to stop taking it (either because I turned 35 and am forced to stop, or because we decided to have a baby). Neither of us could decide when that would be. Patrick didn’t want to make the decision because it would be my body that would be going through the changes (and pain) of a pregnancy/birth. I couldn’t make the decision because, well, I’m psychologically addicted to the pill. I spent my entire adult life trying NOT to get pregnant, and now I’m supposed to flip that switch – not happening. Some people see this as me not being ready to have a child, but that is not the case. I am highly neurotic and get freaked out by little things, so the mere idea of a human being growing inside my body, while rather cool and empowering, freaks me out. It’s like some kind of weird science fiction movie – how come all I can think of is Invasion of the Body Snatchers?

We decided that since we couldn’t choose a day for me to stop taking the pill, we needed a neutral third party. So last night, we made a huge pitcher of mango daiquiris and left our future in the hands of…well, not in anyone’s hands, but on a bunch of tiny pieces of paper in two cereal bowls. Yes, we held the very first “Baby Lottery”. One bowl had #s 1-31 (representing the days in a month) and the second bowl had #s 5-12 (representing May – December). Patrick shook the bowls and I picked the numbers. Actually, there was a bit of confusion when I actually picked the months because I thought he was using the names of the months and not numbers, so when I picked one out I thought he accidentally handed me the bowl of days.

I was a bit worried that I would pull out the day May 30th, which would scare me, but I realized that I also didn’t want to choose anything in November or December because it seemed too far away. Neither of those happened, and I’m OK with the date that I randomly chose.

While it might seem weird that we used this method to choose when I’d stop taking the pill, it was actually quite satisfying – it wasn’t my decision and it wasn’t his decision. No one felt like they were making a life-altering decision for the other.

We’ll see what happens when I actually have to stop taking that darn little pill…

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