Bottoms Up

I had a beer tonight. First one since before Bon was born. I've had a glass of wine here or there since her birth but I've pretty much been alcohol-free. I am already tired with a constant low-grade headache, why add to it?

Tonight, out of the blue, I just felt like a Corona with lime. It actually didn't live up to my expectations. Much more, well, BEERish than I remembered. All in all, it so wasn't worth it because now I will have The Worry.

It's totally irrational. I'm ashamed to admit it because I know how unlikely it is but...

A major reason I don't drink is that I'm always afraid I'm pregnant.

See, I told you it was crazy. I mean, I had my tubes tied. I told Dr. McC to double knot them and I wasn't kidding. Still, she was awfully chatty with her assistant that day. They were talking about all that they had to do later that day which, hi, was kind of rude. I mean, I wasn't unconscious so at least PRETEND to be totally focused on my open abdominal cavity while your hands are in there.

What if she, like, had one eye on my fallopians and one eye on the clock? Crap. Just thinking about that freaks me out.

To add fuel to the fire, while I was stalking visiting a friend on Facebook earlier, I saw a story that her friend posted about someone she knows who got pregnant with tied tubes.

Then recently someone told me that they had 2 tubal pregnancies and maybe one that was successful after getting theirs tied. Actually, I cannot for the life of me remember who it was so maybe that is a total lie and I dreamed it.

I don't know but if it's infecting my dreams, you can see how the fear is impacting me.

Once again, life is easier for the dudes. They get snipped, wait a month, jizz in a cup and the doctor tells them that they are good to go (or not, as the case may be.) Us girls, we don't know our surgery was unsuccessful until we go to poo and, holy crap, there's a baby in the toilet! Well, that explains the achy boobs, mood swings and nutella on bacon cravings.

I so don't want to have a baby in a toilet.

I also don't want to go back on The Pill when I'm more headache-free than I have been in the last 25 years.

Most of all, though, I really, really don't want my imaginary baby to have fetal alcohol syndrome from my Corona.

ACK.

Seriously, who told me about all of the messed-up pregnancies that happened post-tubal ligation? I cannot have dreamed it, that's too weird even for me. It's not like I go around telling the history of Ladyland, though, so I can't imagine I was discussing my fried tubes with just anyone.

Oh hell, I don't know.

Cheers! To drinking beer with no fear. Hopefully, I'll get there. It may not be until menopause (when I'll switch to worrying about having a change-of-life baby.)