Well hey there all you nice people. Today we’re going to
talk about my baby maker.
That’s right.
For those of you who don’t like reading about birth control
or my ladybits, walk away, cause it’s about to get real ALLLL up in this piece.
This post is brought to you by husband, who either really enjoys me making fun of my experiences, or just wants to see all you nice people suffer like he did yesterday.
As I’ve mentioned before in this post, husband and I have no
plans, intentions, or inklings about making progeny, like, ever. We don’t do
that.
We’re those Aunt and Uncle units that kidnap your kids for
the weekend, spoil them rotten, load them with Redbull, and drop them back off
with you.
And we LIKE IT.
And we LIKE IT.
With that in mind, I’ve been exploring more
permanent, low-maintenance baby blocking options. I’ve been on the hormonal pill for about seven years now,
and it’s been nice. I take it for a few different reasons, but the primary one is my
strong desire to maintain the perpetual vacant sign on my uterus.
Let me first say, when it comes to birth control methods, don’t knock it until you try it. Every method comes with its own horror
stories, but only you are you, and different methods work differently for
everyone. Just because Janey had a bad time on that particular pill or condom or
device does not mean the same for you.
You’re not Janey.
Talk to your doctor or Planned Parenthood counselor and find you.
You’re not Janey.
Talk to your doctor or Planned Parenthood counselor and find you.
Anyshoe.
No babies. Long term method. No more pills.
Okay back on track.
I’m tired of “the pill” because I travel a lot, and over-commit my time which means OOPSes. I don’t care for OOPSes and don’t want to see any fallout from OOPSes.
I’m tired of “the pill” because I travel a lot, and over-commit my time which means OOPSes. I don’t care for OOPSes and don’t want to see any fallout from OOPSes.
Thus the search began, which took a few months of hem-and-haw with husband and
doctors and the internet before we settled. Here’s where I get all med-student, so if you bore easily
just look at the pretty pictures and keep scrolling until something awesome
happens again. All of the titled methods are links to informative sites for you readers and curious people.
BARRIER METHODS
See also – condoms, diaphragm, sponges, etc
etc.
Since we’re on the same team about not getting pregnant for many years up to forever,
these did not seem like a cost efficient option. For those of you wanting to
know more on these methods, hit me up in the comment section and I will gladly
make a supplemental post on proper use and safety stats.
“The shot” you get every three months filled with hormone injected blocking
powers. As a LakeLA commuter, checking in every three months on the dot wasn’t
practical.
Also known as “the patch.” You put this hormone filled guy on once a week for three weeks, skip it one week for your period, and try not to lose it to the sweat and grime of the Antelope Valley. No thanks.
Neat little hormonal ring you put in your vagina and take out every three weeks
to have your period for a week. I hate spelunking when I
put in OB tampons, so I didn’t think I’d enjoy this.
Basically, it’s like a stopper cap on your fallopian tubes. You can’t drop eggs
into your gumbo-pot to stew anything up. It’s pretty new, so there’s limited
long term studies, but it is permanent. Once in, game over. As a sufferer of ovarian
cysts, this was not a good option for me.
Another permanent undo for your hoo-hoo. There are multiple types of
procedures, but this is the one people refer to as “getting your tubes tied.” Some procedures can be reversed, but still inhibits your fertility, and
generally does not allow successful pregnancies. All procedures are quite invasive (surgical) and
come with their own risks, which was a big reason we said no to this one.
Yep, dick pic.
This is the nice one I managed to find after two hours.
You're welcome.
This is a very permanent shut down of the highway to sperm. Since I wasn’t about to get chopped, husband wasn’t either.
This little buddy comes highly recommended for women who have never been
pregnant or given birth. It goes in your arm and chills there for 3 years, giving you nonstop hormonal baby blocking. It’s about the size of a matchstick, pretty flexy and after initial
healing is practically unnoticeable. Again, not a big fan of getting cut, and
the IUDs generally have a longer life-span, which is why I skipped this option despite Every. Single. Doctor. Telling me the details and recommending it over
my choice. Be aware, babyless ladies, if you go for long-term devices, they
will insist on this one.
Also known as “sticker upper birth control” all up in your piece. Nowadays,
there’s pretty much two main options, Paragard or Mirena.
This is the infamous copper iud. It is completely and totally non-hormonal, and is a great choice for ladies who want baby blocking powers up
to TEN YEARS. Keep in mind, IUDs can be removed at pretty much any point you change your mind. Most ladies I know who HATE other methods (read - hormonal methods) go this route, because
they just don’t do well with hormonal additions. I being a fan of the chemical
balancing act of birth control hormones in my life, opted out of this one for
now.
This is the other IUD, which only comes with hormonal control. It lasts up to five years, and is also removable earlier than that. I went with this one because it had some history to it, and the hormonal control that I need for other issues.
Here’s a cool interactive thingy to play with the Mirena and
be less terrified of it. Note that the Paragard is about the same size, but a
liiiiittle less flexible, and you can see how not-scary it is.
So now you know all the things I knew before getting into
this. For those of you in the AV going to “regular” doctors instead
of Planned Parenthood, brace yourselves. I had to do a lot of explaining and
re-explaining to different medical professionals about why a married, 24 year
old woman would not want to have babies. It got annoying after a while, but I
summoned that tiny ball of patience I keep buried and marched on until I got
answers and appointments.
Step one to getting "sticker upper birth control" is an initial exam with a licensed gynecologist. They get to speculum your
lady place open and check out the engine room to see where everything is, and
if your situation will even allow for an IUD. I barely passed with my virgin (haha) territory, since my family has a penchant for small lady plumbing, and I
hadn’t had a football sized fetus in there to soften it up. They usually do
some swab cultures while in there to cover their bases and make sure you don’t
have anything in there (read babies or STIs). Once again, if you have a thorough doctor, they will talk your ear off about options and what they think is
best for you. I got the baby talk again, consisting of:
“Don’t you think you’ll change your mind?” “What about when
you’re thirty?”
“Is your husband okay with that?” “I’m sure you’ll feel
different in five years…”
Next step is the fun part. And by fun I mean suckiest.
You get to have it sticker uppered!
Now before I got mine put in, I had heard maybe 200 horror
stories and like, 3 happy endings about this Mirena and the insertion
procedure. I expected to be out of commission
for days after this went down from all the trauma these ladies put out there
with their vague, emotionally charged regrets.
I am here to dispel aaaaaaaaaalll those fear-mongers' words and
tell you how this went down.
First of all, I got husband on board with having to babysit
me and my needs for a few days, since I didn’t know how my gumbo pot would like
this aggressive force moving in it’s turf. Husband was stoked, bought up treats and
got the chili cooked – which as my faithful readers know is my catnip/comfort
food of choice. I helped and cleaned the house and fluffed my room into snuggly
ecstasy so I would have nothing to complain or worry about other than healing.
I had my heat pack in the microwave to zap upon entry, ibuprofen on the night
stand, and Cheers in my DVD player.
We were set. The only thing I hadn’t covered was how much I wanted his help in the procedure room.
We were set. The only thing I hadn’t covered was how much I wanted his help in the procedure room.
SIDE STORY – Husband is 41, and holds on to a lot of old
patriarchal values when it comes to our relationship, which 98% of the time I love. However, he has insisted repeatedly if I ever baked a baby, he would hide
in the waiting room with my dad until it popped out.
No hand holding. No hair petting. No “you got this, go team!”
The last time he had to “help” me was my oral surgery for my
wisdom teeth, and he damn near punched out the surgeon just at the anesthesia
shot. So when it came to this procedure, I was sure he wouldn’t be
on board for hand holding.
Back to the story.
We head back into the exam room, and the nurse gets us
situated. I got a bathroom break because, lets face it, no doctor really wants
to get peed on. Does it happen? Yep. But let’s try to prevent that.
I get back, strip down, and talk Husband through what’s
about to happen. I showed him the stirrups and we both admired their unusual
softness. Seriously, they had like, koozies on them, it was awesome. Then I put
the little sheet on and pointed out all the tools – speculum, iodine, Mirena,
and swabs. By then, a gentleman comes in and intros.
“Hey I’m Doctor Giggles (changed it, duh), I’m your Doctor’s
husband. She can’t make it, will you be okay if I do this procedure, or would
you like to reschedule?”
Nurse comes in with the sanitary gear, they glove up, and I’m
thinking husband is gonna bail and search for the safety of waiting-room la-la land. Nurse asks, “So are you nervous about this
procedure?” And I say, “Yes.”
Who steps up?
It was more than I could hope for in him.
There was hand holding. There was hair petting. There was “you
got this, go team!”
Doctor Giggles gets ready to go in, and he says,
“It could get uncomfortable. You can bite or scratch husband all you want, just not me, okay?”
“It could get uncomfortable. You can bite or scratch husband all you want, just not me, okay?”
I like this guy.
He talked us through the whole thing, like a team,
“I’m putting this here, I’m doing that, I have to twist this to see if it clears, it will pinch.”
Husband and Doctor Giggles even made jokes throughout to
keep me distracted. They were talking
crap about how I whined at some discomfort, and then turned around and made
jokes about how the wife is queen and whines when she wants and please don’t
bite me.
We get to the famed “terrible” part, and Giggles warns of
the pinch. I let out a nice solid, “OW,” reminiscent of the colored portion of
my tattoo. Giggles just pseudo brushed it off and says,
“I know you’re okay, husband isn’t even bleeding, did it hurt you husband?” Husband jumps in, “No my uterus is fine, you doc?”
“I know you’re okay, husband isn’t even bleeding, did it hurt you husband?” Husband jumps in, “No my uterus is fine, you doc?”
“Fine.”
So me being me, “Oh glad everyone’s ladybits are dandy, I guess 2 out of 3 ain’t bad.”
And we’re laughing our asses off despite my level 8 pain. I barely even thought about it. It kind of sucked, but at the apex of the terrible, he had me count.
“Just count to
like, 20, do it slow. I’m not in any pain, so take your time.”
So there I am, and husband is laughing at me while I try to count and laugh. The whole “terrible” part lasted maybe two minutes, maybe. And with all the crap-talk laughing, it didn’t even feel that long.
So there I am, and husband is laughing at me while I try to count and laugh. The whole “terrible” part lasted maybe two minutes, maybe. And with all the crap-talk laughing, it didn’t even feel that long.
Then Doctor Giggles cleans up, pushes my legs back, and
has me touch my knees together, “Okay this part I need you closed tight because it only works if you’re super
uncomfortable tight, and it’s going to hurt so much you might cry.”
And I of course react, “WHAT!? I THOUGHT THE BAD PART WAS OVER.”
And I of course react, “WHAT!? I THOUGHT THE BAD PART WAS OVER.”
And Giggles starts laughing while he cleans up the gel/small
blood mess, pulls back, and he says, “No worries, I'm kidding, just sit up so we can talk.”
I sit up, and he continues, “I know I just pinched you
and it was not fun, but your insides are unfit and I can’t put it in today.”
Husband makes nervous giggles, and I can only respond, “You’re
yanking my chain. No way.”
Giggles almost fell off his chair laughing and he says, “Yes I
am. That went WAY smoother than I expected for your shape and size. You did
great.”
Husband throws me a high five, we set up the follow up appointment, dress, and leave.
EPIC. PROCEDURE.
ReplyDelete"This is the infamous copper iud. It has the option of being hormonal or non-hormonal."
I'm super curious whether an OBGYN, doctor, etc. backed this up. Copper IUDs are typically known for their complete lack of hormones, and (at least for me) it would be a huge kick in the teeth if they ended up having any, even in trace amounts. It's just not what I bargained for, and I was very clear about that. I'm just curious which, if any, copper IUDs have hormones, too. Thanks!
Copper IUDs have absolutely zero hormones, no worries. The way that they work is that the copper ions disable sperm from swimming. Absolutely no hormones of any kind. That may have just been a typo/misunderstanding on the author's part.
DeleteHey Anon #1 and Anon #2!
DeleteThanks for the question, and pointing out a FUBAR typo!! I definitely did not intend to make things more confusing, and with all of the information laid out in front of me, I made a mistake. I'm surprised that's the only one, but it's definitely a big one.
I appreciate the collective cool heads, and for stepping up for me Anon #2. I'll be straightening out that oops ASAFP.
I love you!!! Hahahaha huge laughs.
ReplyDelete