"You guys need a plan A!"

About seven years ago my boyfriend and I made a Saturday morning stop at the Planned Parenthood. He waited in the car while I buzzed and said into the loud speaker, for all to hear, "Emergency Contraception!" I wasn't yelling, but that speaker could make a whisper sound like a bellow. I filled out the paperwork and waited. Finally, the physician's assistant took me into a room, gave me the pills, detailed instructions, and sent me on my way.

I took one pill and wrote a note on my hand to remember to take the second in twelve hours. (If I could remember to take pills, I wouldn't be at the Planned Parenthood on a lovely Saturday morning).

It was very anti-climactic. I expected the pill taking to do something to me. Like Alice. Like I should shrink or grow. Or, at the very least, become enraptured by a white rabbit.

Six and a half years and two kids later, (my boyfriend now my husband), I found myself at the Rite-Aid getting carded and spending $50 on Plan-B once again. I was still trying to figure out what kind of birth control to use. IUD? Pill? I had to talk to my doctor. In the meantime, I used nothing.

Two months after that, I worried that the pharmacist might reach for the Plan-B on recognition. It was my third time, to which my sister exclaimed, "You guys need a plan 'A!'"

The third time really bothered me. I had weird uterine contractions and felt icky. I did not like it one bit. I told my husband I wasn't taking it again.

I finally straightened out my birth control, and the nice ladies at the PP also included two packages of Plan-B. Which, at this point, frightened me. I accepted them. You never know. But I'm hoping not to use them.

I found this excellent article on a blog written by Dr. Sari Locker, a noted sexologist, pointing out the misconceptions and reality of Plan-B. I learned a few things about how it works in our bodies and thought if anyone was considering it, she's a much better source than the pharmacist.