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Authors: Teresa Strasser
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the question all preteen girls agonize over while performing Emily’s big monologue at theater camp: “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it?”
What I mean is, I never appreciated guilt-free drug use until it was gone. Did I just compare not using Klonopin to dying? Is that overblown? Someone get me to Samuel French because I’m feeling dramatic.
I had no idea how much I took the privilege of occasionally poisoning myself for granted until now. I’ve always been moderate about my use of prescription drugs and alcohol, yet my pregnant longing for a lightly altered state makes me feel (and come across) like a flat-out junkie. No matter. The fact is this: I’m pregnant, which means I’ve got way more worries than ever before, and way fewer chemicals to make them go away.
Chemicals, I can’t wait to return to you. Until then, here is a list of the substances I miss the most.
VICODIN —Narcotics are bad. Except for the fact they produce a little something called euphoria. Listen, this drug is a highly addictive opioid that should be used only to manage moderate to severe pain. However, my definition of “pain” is a loose one. Is it painful to sit around pondering labor, the mysterious process of somehow squeezing a human head out of your va-jay-jay? Does it smart to look down the pike at childbirth, something most of us have only seen in movies (during which the woman sweats profusely, swears, wails, curses her husband and, let’s face it, dies half the time)? Speaking of death, does it hurt emotionally to ponder the absolute end of one’s identity? Is it a bit of an ouchy to imagine never going to the gym, the nail salon, or the therapist, without first scheduling a sitter? Does it ache to even hear yourself say the word “sitter”? If a future of pureeing yams to make your own baby food causes a throbbing in your very terrified soul, well, you are in moderate to severe pain. When pain-killers are prescribed “as needed,” I always feel “as needed” is a very fluid concept. Medicines are categorized in various ways as it pertains to their use during pregnancy. The FDA says Vicodin is a category C drug, meaning it is unknown whether it would be harmful to an unborn baby. Since there haven’t been adequate or well-controlled studies, since vitamin V is habit-forming and may depress the baby’s breathing if taken late in the third trimester, most doctors won’t sign off on this and neither will your conscience.
Incidentally, any drug worth your time will probably be a category C, which should stand for “Could be fine but you’ll feel like a selfish baby maimer if it’s not.” Category B drugs are considered “probably safe,” and include such party favorites as Tylenol and Pepcid. We’ve all heard about those underground Pep/Ty raves. All the kids are rolling on P and T, saying Screw E, we’re up in here with mild relief of muscle aches and almost no heartburn. Join us in this unfettered pleasure-fest. It’s a pharmaceutical bacchanal. Even though Vicodin means I’m twenty minutes from the sense that all is right with the world, I’m off the junk.
KLONOPIN —Relaxes muscles, reduces anxiety, helps you sleep, features a nice long half-life so you wake up fresh as a daisy and worry-free. Take it the night before a job interview or audition and the entire next day is kissed with a light potion of placidity. Klony seemed so harmless until I read that when taken during pregnancy it may cause “floppy infant syndrome.” I don’t know what that is, and I don’t want to know.
NICOTINE —C’mon. Smoking sucks. I get it. But how else are you supposed to know when dinner is over?
Of all of my darling toxins, I’m shocked to miss smoking the most. Nicotine was never and is not now a physical addiction for me (I’m what’s known as a “chipper,” someone who smokes a few cigarettes regularly but never becomes a pack-a-day smoker). I know nicotine is bad. I quit smoking my two to
What I mean is, I never appreciated guilt-free drug use until it was gone. Did I just compare not using Klonopin to dying? Is that overblown? Someone get me to Samuel French because I’m feeling dramatic.
I had no idea how much I took the privilege of occasionally poisoning myself for granted until now. I’ve always been moderate about my use of prescription drugs and alcohol, yet my pregnant longing for a lightly altered state makes me feel (and come across) like a flat-out junkie. No matter. The fact is this: I’m pregnant, which means I’ve got way more worries than ever before, and way fewer chemicals to make them go away.
Chemicals, I can’t wait to return to you. Until then, here is a list of the substances I miss the most.
VICODIN —Narcotics are bad. Except for the fact they produce a little something called euphoria. Listen, this drug is a highly addictive opioid that should be used only to manage moderate to severe pain. However, my definition of “pain” is a loose one. Is it painful to sit around pondering labor, the mysterious process of somehow squeezing a human head out of your va-jay-jay? Does it smart to look down the pike at childbirth, something most of us have only seen in movies (during which the woman sweats profusely, swears, wails, curses her husband and, let’s face it, dies half the time)? Speaking of death, does it hurt emotionally to ponder the absolute end of one’s identity? Is it a bit of an ouchy to imagine never going to the gym, the nail salon, or the therapist, without first scheduling a sitter? Does it ache to even hear yourself say the word “sitter”? If a future of pureeing yams to make your own baby food causes a throbbing in your very terrified soul, well, you are in moderate to severe pain. When pain-killers are prescribed “as needed,” I always feel “as needed” is a very fluid concept. Medicines are categorized in various ways as it pertains to their use during pregnancy. The FDA says Vicodin is a category C drug, meaning it is unknown whether it would be harmful to an unborn baby. Since there haven’t been adequate or well-controlled studies, since vitamin V is habit-forming and may depress the baby’s breathing if taken late in the third trimester, most doctors won’t sign off on this and neither will your conscience.
Incidentally, any drug worth your time will probably be a category C, which should stand for “Could be fine but you’ll feel like a selfish baby maimer if it’s not.” Category B drugs are considered “probably safe,” and include such party favorites as Tylenol and Pepcid. We’ve all heard about those underground Pep/Ty raves. All the kids are rolling on P and T, saying Screw E, we’re up in here with mild relief of muscle aches and almost no heartburn. Join us in this unfettered pleasure-fest. It’s a pharmaceutical bacchanal. Even though Vicodin means I’m twenty minutes from the sense that all is right with the world, I’m off the junk.
KLONOPIN —Relaxes muscles, reduces anxiety, helps you sleep, features a nice long half-life so you wake up fresh as a daisy and worry-free. Take it the night before a job interview or audition and the entire next day is kissed with a light potion of placidity. Klony seemed so harmless until I read that when taken during pregnancy it may cause “floppy infant syndrome.” I don’t know what that is, and I don’t want to know.
NICOTINE —C’mon. Smoking sucks. I get it. But how else are you supposed to know when dinner is over?
Of all of my darling toxins, I’m shocked to miss smoking the most. Nicotine was never and is not now a physical addiction for me (I’m what’s known as a “chipper,” someone who smokes a few cigarettes regularly but never becomes a pack-a-day smoker). I know nicotine is bad. I quit smoking my two to
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