write
After we collapse breathing heavily
Our hungover brains clear the fog
And it hits us.
Right between the bloody eyes.
Whilst you flounder around
appologising and trying to find an explanation for your behaviour
I'm trying to convince you that it's fine
We weren't having sex
And I attempt to carefully clean myself up.
As our breathing subsides,
We meet eyes across the bed
and in our combined fear
We acknowledge that in our haste
In our excitement
We may have, after three years,
become clumsy.
It only takes one time of carelessness
For us to rush ourselves out the door,
We march to the pharmacy
And red faced
Shuffling feet,
We ask for the goods.
We contemplate in that moment what may have happened to us
And yet in that same breath our logic invades
Telling us that realistically we are overreacting
And yet somehow, you and I
are terrified.
And so awkwardly we wander off
And I swallow the pill
But still cannot rest.
I question how I can ever decide to have sex
With such fear looming
That I can't cope with
When the chances are crazily slim
All we think is
It could happen.
So we hold hands across the table
And we pray
And we hold each other
Because we cannot do this.
If this doesn't work, we cannot be parents
We cannot make the impossible decision
And then the logic reminds us again,
that pregnancy without sex is rare,
that also rare is the morning after pill not working
But I am sick to my stomach.
I am ashamed,
Embarrassed
Feeling Foolish
Careless
But together, we are terrified.
We will wait a month,
Anxious all the days
To find out whether a second of clumsiness
Has cost us our terrified lives.
