Disclaimer: Please stop reading if you’re my grandparent or my dad. Just, please.
Here’s a little story for you, inspired by my friend Natasha:
Leith and I have this really great agreement going on. It’s called No More Kids. It’s working pretty well, considering I gave birth over 4 years ago and have yet to be cursed with another uterine spawn since then.
Unfortunately, keeping a hollow uterus isn’t the cake walk I’d hoped it would be. In fact, it’s such a pain in the ass that I would LOVE to pass on my ability to conceive to any of my friends who are currently struggling to conceive. I would gladly wash my hands of all fertility to allow them to bless their families with more babies.
Alas, that’s not in the cards. It turns out you can only share your uterus, not donate it, and I really, really, REALLY hate being pregnant.
So that leaves us wading in the scummy pools of modern birth control.
I spent the better part of 10 years taking a plain old boring birth control pill, then stopped, popped out a set of twins, and said, “NEVER AGAIN!!”. Since then, it’s been…fun.
ARTICLE ONE: The Mini-Pill
Pros: Can be taken while breast-feeding.
Cons: Must be taken at the exact same second of every day or you will screw it up and get pregnant. Because that’s something a new mom of twins can remember. Oh, and you won’t get your period, so best of luck keeping your fingers crossed when you DO screw it up. Sucka.
ARTICLE TWO: The copper IUD
Pros: No hormones, no remembering, dirt cheap over the course of the 3 years its good for, generally quite awesome for its entire existence…until:
Cons: It decides to get drunk one day (my version…) and FALL OVER, embedding itself in your uterine wall. You know, for funsies. This renders it completely useless, a bit painful, and a bit of a jerk because a) you now wonder how long you’ve been playing with fire while it lolled around all tipsy, and b) it requires a referral to a real OBGYN, instead of just getting yanked at your regular doctor’s office. Jerk.
**oh, and the increased risk of eptopic pregnancy too…but we avoided that one.
**oh, and husband will become paranoid and terrified when it falls over, and declare that it is the WORST FORM OF BIRTH CONTROL EVER. Trust between husband and IUD is over.
ARTICLE THREE: The birth control patch
Pros: Wear a sticker on your butt for a week. Change each week. Take a week off. Once a week is easier to remember than every freaking day. Also, can be used with the tipsy IUD while waiting for the OBGYN referral.
Cons: Develop sudden numbness and lightheadedness, and other stroke-like symptoms. Call your doctor while your coworkers encourage you to go to the ER. Throw the Patch in the garbage. Feel better. Discover that you cannot tolerate systemic hormones ever again in your life, or YOU WILL DIE. Awesome.
…if you’re following along, my choices are now: a) get pregnant and die, or b) take birth control and die. Excellent.
ARTICLE FOUR: Mirena, aka hell in a one-inch chunk of plastic
Pros: Same as the copper IUD, but with the added protection of synthetic progesterone only. And it stays local, so I won’t die. And I won’t get my period ever again!!! (or for 5 years…whatevs)
Cons: This will require a bullet list:
- massive mood swings
- ridiculous levels of irritability
- depression relapses
- unconquerable fatigue
- all the joys of PMS with no period to tell you why you’re being a bitch
- impossible to lose those last 10lbs
- did I mention the mood swings and irritability? the fatigue? the depression?
- other yucky stuff that I won’t write on my blog
- headaches and achiness without other causes
- basically feeling like a ticking time bomb of early pregnancy, without the uterine spawn
And then some.
There are days when pregnancy would be a welcome change compared to my little plastic friend. It sucks that much. I hate it. And unfortunately, it was our last modern-pharmaceutical resort.
So that leaves us with three options:
- Fertility awareness method, which I’ve used and loved but am far too lazy to trust myself with…
- A tubal ligation for me, which I am vehemently opposed to because I’ve seen way too many friends with waaaaaay too many complications that I just don’t feel like dealing with. Ever.
- Booking an appointment for the husband.
Guess what I’m picking? Hint: it ain’t #1 or #2.
In the meantime, I have the green light to get this little hormonal plastic alien from hell ripped from my body. I have my consultation with my family doctor on Friday, and hopefully she can book me in for the yanking ASAP. I cannot wait to get back to being me again.
Although I will miss having something to blame for my occasional bitchiness