By Guest Writer Melissa H.

I didn’t intend to go off the Pill in September. It just sort of happened that way. My Pill prescription ran out, and by the time I got it refilled, it was too late. So began my first month of chemical-free womanhood in a long time—unplanned, unwelcomed, and unpleasant. But along with it came some surprising insight.

The real trouble began when the time came for Aunt Flo’s guest appearance. No Aunt Flo. Of course, I immediately freaked out. Were hormones—or lack of fake ones for the first time in eons—to blame for a change in timing? Or something more sinister, at least to a control-freak who was most definitely not ready to conceive?

I pity the loved ones who dealt with me that month while I slowly went from Melissa to Mad Woman.

Typically, I got my period like clockwork. Of course, that was not my body’s natural cycle; that was synthetic hormones creating an unnatural rhythm in my ovaries.

When my body was left to its own devices, all previous ETAs went out the window. My body was not cooperating with me. I didn’t like it one bit.

On top of an AWOL Aunt Flo, I had another upsetting and highly suspicious problem: My weight started inching up. I’m a gym-rat who has been eating healthily on Weight Watchers for almost four years. I journal and count every bite I eat. But I started gaining anyway. And it infuriated me.

A week after I should have gotten my period, I suddenly got back-aches. Lethargy and unbearable bloat settled in. My breasts were swollen and my chest hurt in the shower, let alone if someone brushed by me. My tummy looked rounder in the mirror. My hips seemed fuller as I walked by store windows. I even started getting “pregnesia,” my best friend’s nickname for forgetting things while she was pregnant.

So like any modern gal would do, I Googled my symptoms. And of course, every symptom, real or imagined, told me, “YOU’RE PREGNANT.”

For days my mind raced incessantly with the implications. “It’s impossible, isn’t it?!” “We’re not ready to be parents!” “What about my job?” I’d often said I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom but right now, could we afford that? Did we want to?

My husband, meanwhile, was almost hurt: Why did it bother me so much if it turned out we were about to have a baby?

Logically, I had nothing to worry about: I’m happily married and 28. My husband and I have good, stable jobs, health insurance, own our own home, and eventually want children. But I’m definitely not ready yet.

It’s this simple: I’m Type A all the way. Up until this point, my life, and my period, had been happily managed in little blocks of time with help from synthetic hormones. So to enter unplanned into something as life-changing as a pregnancy threw me for a loop, mentally as well as physically. I didn’t want to be the girl who “got knocked up.” I wanted my husband and I to carefully plan my pregnancy, down to the approximate time of year I’d like to give birth (i.e., not summer!). I wanted to be taking pre-natal vitamins and flaxseed, avoiding caffeine, and limbering up with yoga months in advance of my actual pregnancy.

It took multiple negative pregnancy tests, more calls to my gyno (who said it was likely post-pill amenorrhea and not to worry), and a negative blood test to put my mind somewhat at ease. What also helped: My mother-in-law, who had been staying with us during this entire secret fiasco, went home.

As my stress levels dropped, my body started to function properly. A week later (albeit 17 days ‘late’) my period arrived. I sighed with relief and called my husband immediately.

Now, nearly two months later, I’m still having occasional spotting. My weight is still up. And I’m still breaking out. The fallout isn’t over. No, I definitely do not recommend accidentally quitting and restarting your Pills.

But here’s the kicker. My terrible time off the Pill left me with a very unexpected insight: I might be readier than I thought to tackle the next stage of life.

Sounds strange, right? What happened is, the moment I got my period and relaxed, everywhere I looked, I saw babies. Suddenly, the notion of having one didn’t seem so scary or overwhelming. In fact, my uterus kind of started “aching” for children. It was the strangest thing…and even more strange, it didn’t freak me out.

In the end, I realized my fear hadn’t been of becoming a parent, but about allowing my body to be out of my control, and dealing with the consequences of change. Next time, when I choose to go off the Pill for babymaking, I’ll be ready to respect the various changes I’m going through, with a lot less stress.

Hopefully within a month or two, the spotting and weight gain will go away, and the pill and I will be back in sync—yet ready to greet the next chapter of my life with a little more wisdom and a much more positive outlook.

Want to read the second piece in The Flying Trapeze’s series on birth control and pregnancy? Check out the introduction and Goodbye Pills, Goodbye Cravings?