So in the process of working my way through the abortion clinic, the staff not unreasonably queried my future birth control plans. At the time, I decided for the sake of symmetry, that my husband should get a vasectomy within the two week enforced abstinence period following the abortion [side not, in hilariously straightforward language, the post-op instructions state “do not put anything in your vagina for two weeks, including tampons, a diaphragm, douching, or sexual intercourse” as though a penis is yet another implement of feminine hygiene].
My husband dutifully made the appointment for the big V, although no openings were available within the two week window. However, since I have taken a vow of celibacy, the point seemed moot. Still I realized that I had several packs of unopened birth control pills from my last attempt to use them. Post abortion, a little nausea seemed a small price to pay for a double failsafe, as the engineers say, just in case, you know, his super swimmers miraculously managed to make it across the flannel sheets to me in the next few weeks. After that recent octuplet birth birth, I am not taking any chances.