This will be TMI both physically, and um, morally.  Just so you know.

CD6: Condoms, day 6, which was yesterday.

Actually, since we’d been taking a few-day break from sex while I tried to get my stomach to stop hurting, it was more like condoms, day 4.  Either way, it’s become obvious that this “simplest form of birth control” is going to take some practice.

I was pretty well aware, while we were already engaged in coitus, that Doug didn’t have a condom on.  But then I started second-guessing: could I just not feel it?  Had he maybe put it on before I’d even come into the room, and then put his shorts back on over it, and was just trying to be prepared like a good little ex-boy-scout?  Was he planning on pulling out all along anyway, and didn’t want to waste one of our precious resources?

Somehow I doubted all of the above, and could even hear the nurse practitioner I’d seen telling me to “make sure he puts it on before anything touches anything,” but I just…  I couldn’t be bothered to stop him.  It just felt so natural, doing things the way we’ve always done them – even though the nagging voice in my head demanding that I push him off me and yell at him was kind of distracting.

“I missed the part where you put the condom on,” I told him after he’d finished (without pulling out, of course).

“Oh.  Um, I could do it now?”

And then, lying there in the dark, I brought my hands up and covered my face.  What are we even doing here? I agonized.  This is not how this is supposed to happen.  What’s the point of all my suffering these past few years if we’re just going to – whoops! – have a baby now, with nothing any different than it was before?

But when Doug asked me what was wrong, I couldn’t articulate any of this.  Because it’s really hard for me to say out loud, “No, I don’t want to get pregnant, and we’re doing the right thing.”  Not after all this time I’ve spent mourning my non-pregnant state.

Ever the voice of reason, Doug reassured me that this one time probably would not result in an accidental pregnancy.  “It took us almost a year the last time,” he reminded me.

(I was also inadvertently reminded of the few times in my younger life when I had condom-free sex with a casual-but-repeated partner.  He had assured me he’d just been tested, and since I was practically a virgin, and on the pill, what could possibly go wrong?  Thankfully, nothing did.)

Doug also promised me that he wouldn’t make the same mistake again:  “It’s my responsibility, and I’m sorry.”

Another thing I decided not to tell him is that, actually, it’s our responsibility.  That I’m every bit as much at fault for not having said something sooner, or pushing him away, or slapping him across the face for being so fresh and untoward.  I chose to say none of this, because…  Why not make it his responsibility?  The pill and the IUD – things that went in my body – were mine.  So why not agree that it’s his penis and, therefore, his problem?

Like I suspected, now that the IUD’s out, it feels like it would be way too easy to do this for real – especially with my insiders in the trying-to-conceive blogging community inadvertently telling me exactly how to better my chances of getting pregnant.  But I’m considering last night’s mishap a test, which I passed, if only barely.  The opportunity to “forget” revealed itself to be as wanton and easy as I’d imagined, and yet, I didn’t react the way I had imagined.  Because as it turns out, I don’t just want a baby for me and Doug; I want a better life for me and Doug and that baby first.

Of course, the part of me that wishes things were somehow different/better/more baby-accommodating now is devastated.  But…  We’ll get there.  Life is a journey, and all that jazz.
This entry was posted in birth control, future, past, sex or lack thereof. Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Whoops…

  1. Sara says:

    Hey, on a related note, Costco has s great price on Durex condoms. $9.99 for a “variety” pack of 48. Trojans were $11.99 for 48. We saw them, and I instantly thought of you! Jason took a picture to send you, but his phone refuses to send messages to you.

    • Marie says:

      Aw, tell Jason I’m sorry my phone hates him. Thanks for thinking of us. Next time we go to Costco (inside, not just through the gas station), it’s definitely on the list!

  2. slcurwin says:

    I hate condoms. I think everyone does.

  3. Saundra says:

    Yeah…hate condoms…but when they’re necessary, your partner shouldn’t play prom night — you know, “oops, slid it in without you noticing!”

    I think you’re right in wanting him to take condom responsibility, especially after the hell of Mirena. I like Doug, but it you told me this story in person, he’d have an incredibly off-putting scowl to contend with.

    And then I’d get up and walk out of the restaurant without paying.

  4. Elliot says:

    “He could’ve at least shot it on her chest.”

    Words of wisdom from a half decade older, my friend. (Except that the pull out method is total fail, too. We’re just splitting a growler here and this entry interrupted the episode of “Dexter” we were watching.)

  5. mommyodyssey says:

    I second (third?) the condom-hating thing. I am soooo tempted to “forget” them when hubby and I do it. But he’s actually pretty vigilant about it because we’re not yet ready to TTC, so he’s the strong one in our case. I would really suggest sharing those feelings with Doug a bit more. I think it would make you feel a heck of a lot better.
    Plus – make sure to stash some within easy reach wherever you guys do it often. That way it doesn’t break the flow and keeps things (fairly) spontaneous.

    • Marie says:

      Haha. They’re in super-easy reach already. Like, people coming over and accidentally walking into the bedroom instead of the bathroom will be confronted by them.

  6. clafever says:

    Not to add to your angst, but I have actual, biological proof that it really only takes one time. My daughter was conceived during such a month. If you’re really not ready, cover it up. No matter how annoying it is.

    • Marie says:

      I know – I mean, not about your daughter, but about it only taking one time. I think my odds are altered by my anatomical complications, but still. Point well taken.

  7. Arohanui says:

    There is a high failure rate with condoms, now you know why! Do you think Doug actually wants to make a baby now? Maybe not consciously? Still, if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.

    • Marie says:

      I think we are both very, very conflicted. Heart verses head, you know. But what I keep bumping up against is that if we do it now, in this way, by accident, then all my suffering has been for naught. I can’t have that. So we wait, as planned.

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