Emergency
I don’t remember now the events leading up to the need for emergency contraception, though I can guess at the important part. Without health insurance, the question of whether or not to pursue being seen by a doctor and paying for a prescription or just taking the risk that I wouldn’t be pregnant seemed like it needed to be weighed carefully. Looking back from far away, it was pretty much a no brainer. The clock was ticking. 72 hours. Okay, maybe more like 60. I headed to the phone book first, looked under pregnancy or women’s clinic or some other such thing, and called a number that offered free pregnancy tests and counseling. I called and explained my situation, and asked about the morning after pill. The woman on the other end of the phone told me that there was a strong possibility that I could be pregnant and that there were a lot of resources that could help me, and that if I chose to take the morning after pill and I was pregnant, I would in effect be killing my child.
I’ve never been able to effectively articulate the effect that conversation had on me. They’re not called pregnancy scares for nothing, and to add the charge of infanticide from a complete stranger from whom I was seeking professional advice didn’t help the situation any. It was like being kicked in the stomach. It was like she’d reached into my chest and squeezed. Maybe she got satisfaction about the fact that she made me think about it, even for a second. After struggling to find a comeback for a few seconds I hung up the phone without saying anything and promptly burst into tears. Leary of further human interaction, I headed for the internet.
This is what I found out:
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