Woo-hoo in My Hoo-hoo

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.

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.

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.

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.

DEPO PROVERA

“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.

ORTHO EVRA

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.

NUVA RING

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.

ESSURE 

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.

TUBAL LIGATION

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.

VASECTOMY 

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.

IMPLANON

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.

ALLLLL THE IUDS

Also known as “sticker upper birth control” all up in your piece. Nowadays, there’s pretty much two main options, Paragard or Mirena.

PARAGARD

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.

MIRENA 

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.

http://www.mirena-us.com/about-mirena/see-mirena-up-close.php

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…”

-which I rode out without punching walls or even crying once. Seriously. It gets old people!

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.

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?”

I thought for two seconds on it, since I preferred a woman for empathy, but went ahead anyway.

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?

HUSBAND!!!  

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?”

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?”

“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.

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 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.”

I almost cried.

Husband throws me a high five, we set up the follow up appointment, dress, and leave.

EPIC. PROCEDURE.

For my Antelope Valley ladies who want to see Doctor Giggles for their own IUD, I’ll be happy to refer you in a private message with his name and practice location. I seriously have never “enjoyed” pain like that before.