Today we went to Planned Parenthood and had my IUD removed. I was tempted to have T do it at home for free -- I have a pair of hemostats, after all (which I have yet to use at work).
But there are some things which are better left to the professionals. Feline euthanasia, for example. Also gynecology.
So we paid a nurse midwife to remove this little device from my uterus. T watched. (Hey, he needs to get to know my vag. It is going to be a major player in a very important event in about nine months.)
The removal didn't hurt much and the device came out pretty easily, which was a relief. After six and a half years, I was worried it had grown into my uterus and become a part of me. I didn't see how it could not have done so. And, based on an anecdote I heard from a girlfriend, apparently the cure for an IUD that you can't pull out is, well, pulling harder.
The IUD was much smaller then I had pictured it. When my uterus was cramping down on it during my periods, it always felt huge. But it wasn't. Here's a picture of a copper Paragard IUD:
This isn't a picture of my actual midwife holding up my actual IUD. My midwife was wearing gloves. And my IUD was covered with thick, sticky mucus. And the copper had turned dark, greenish-black. I asked if we could keep the used IUD, but the midwife said we weren't allowed to. One less thing to paste in the scrapbook. *sigh* And she probably just threw it away.
So much for preaching re-use.
The midwife told me I had to wait "a cycle or two" before trying to get pregnant. Then she emphasized, "a couple of cycles." So I let Planned Parenthood give me some condoms. Planned Parenthood loves giving you condoms.
So, sex with condoms again. Good ol' condoms. The sensuous feel of latex.
*sigh*
But at least the IUD was out. Whew! I scratched one thing off my To Worry About list.
Then the midwife gave me a bunch of packets on how all modern products, and all old houses, cause birth defects.
And I had to add 472 things to my To Worry About list.
But there are some things which are better left to the professionals. Feline euthanasia, for example. Also gynecology.
So we paid a nurse midwife to remove this little device from my uterus. T watched. (Hey, he needs to get to know my vag. It is going to be a major player in a very important event in about nine months.)
The removal didn't hurt much and the device came out pretty easily, which was a relief. After six and a half years, I was worried it had grown into my uterus and become a part of me. I didn't see how it could not have done so. And, based on an anecdote I heard from a girlfriend, apparently the cure for an IUD that you can't pull out is, well, pulling harder.
The IUD was much smaller then I had pictured it. When my uterus was cramping down on it during my periods, it always felt huge. But it wasn't. Here's a picture of a copper Paragard IUD:
This isn't a picture of my actual midwife holding up my actual IUD. My midwife was wearing gloves. And my IUD was covered with thick, sticky mucus. And the copper had turned dark, greenish-black. I asked if we could keep the used IUD, but the midwife said we weren't allowed to. One less thing to paste in the scrapbook. *sigh* And she probably just threw it away.
So much for preaching re-use.
The midwife told me I had to wait "a cycle or two" before trying to get pregnant. Then she emphasized, "a couple of cycles." So I let Planned Parenthood give me some condoms. Planned Parenthood loves giving you condoms.
So, sex with condoms again. Good ol' condoms. The sensuous feel of latex.
*sigh*
But at least the IUD was out. Whew! I scratched one thing off my To Worry About list.
Then the midwife gave me a bunch of packets on how all modern products, and all old houses, cause birth defects.
And I had to add 472 things to my To Worry About list.
No comments:
Post a Comment