The last time I went to see my doctor, she mentioned some drugs to help me avoid migraines, but they’re all anti-seizure medications that are associated with birth defects.  She mentioned a friend of hers who does acupuncture and who has $20 Tuesdays, which all sounded great until I looked at the website; it’s part-salon, like you can have a manicure and also have acupuncture. You can have your toes done while you have needles in your ankles. This doesn’t really seem like the kind of experience I wanted to have, even if the result is all the same and it’s cheaper. So I called a friend of my friend’s. We set it up for Friday at 11:00. Even though it’s more expensive.

So I went. Even though I seriously consulted the internet for what to expect, I still didn’t know exactly what to expect, and the truth is that my experience was exactly what the internet said it would be. She looked at my tongue. She listened to my pulses. She stuck a few points in– top of my head, middle of my forehead, hands, and about six down each lower leg, and then I lay there for about a half an hour. I could feel aching in my hands, and something not unlike aching or like a deep stretch in my legs. I also swear I felt it in my ovary. The left one.

Before I left, she told me not to eat dairy and to exercise more. Stagnation of the liver qi, she said, which is not the liver but is a different kind of liver. This is what makes my menstrual blood brown and makes me hate my husband’s shirts and teeth right before I start menstruating. I need to go for long walks and breathe deeply, and unclog my qi to get the life force all up in my girlbits.

And okay, I know I’m being snarky. I wasn’t snarky when I left. I was all a warm puddle. I felt like my bones were soft and pliable, and while I was on the table, I could feel the possibility of life beginning with me. I wanted to take that feeling and hold onto it tightly and never, ever, let it go. But then two hours after I came home, Jesse and I were sword fighting in the dining room– I, with my roll of wrapping paper and he with the broken wand from the blinds– and then he didn’t have a face. He did, but he didn’t. And then I saw the zig-zag lines, like a carnival ride just out of my sight, and I knew I’d be in for a migraine. I went to see the acupuncturist about migraines and also about fertility. If it brought on a migraine, does that mean it will bring on fertility?

That migraine knocked me on my ass. I threw up; I couldn’t handle light or sound, and I couldn’t think of the correct words to use to say to turn the fucking television down. I took three aleve (knowing adverse affects on fertility, la la la) and when that didn’t do a thing to lessen the pain, I opted for a vicodin. It still hurt. Even today, it hurt, and then I was in for round two. This time, I took one of my friend’s Imitrex, which wiped it out within an hour. Monday, I am going to ask for a prescription for Imitrex for just me. I figure if the migraines are menstrual, it’ll probably be safe to take the drug since I’ll have missed whatever window may have existed for me to become pregnant.

I also wonder what the effect of pregnancy will be on my headaches. (Look how optimistic I just was.) If I go back for another acupuncture treatment (Thursday) and have another migraine, that will be the last time I ever have acupuncture. The migraine has taken away all of the fuzzy softness that the needles gave me.