Disclaimer: Do not read this post if...
a) you are my dad
b) you are uncomfortable with the fact that I have sex
c) you are eating something
d) you are easily frightened
e) you are my dad
If you are any of those above mentioned categories and you read this anyway, don't say I didn't warn you.
Alright then. I may not have mentioned it, but I had a baby about 4 months back. She's awesome, snuggly, and so sweet I could eat her with a spoon. Her being all these wonderful things made me realize something though, and it hit me like a ton of bricks when she was only a couple months old. I want another one!
I know some of you out there are yelling at your computer, "GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, WOMAN!" and believe me, you're absolutely justified in that, and my husband shares in your sentiments. We don't need another baby right now. We're doing just fine with the 2 young'ins we have thankyouverymuch, but man, aren't they sweet and squishy and yummy and look at how freakin' cute they are while they sleep! So because I'm having all these irrational thoughts about babies, I decided that some iron clad birth control was in order. None of that silly condom business that can break and surprise you 6 weeks from now. And no birth control pills because a) I'm too forgetful for all that and b) Blech, they make me want to puke my guts up, and c) I forgot what C is supposed to be, so please refer to A again. So, my midwife had given me some info on these fancy little contraptions called IUDs.
It looks harmless enough, right? It's affordable, it's effective for 5 years, and once inserted you don't have to worry about remembering a pill or "preparing" before sex. Sign me up. This thing is what I need. This is going to be awesome. I excitedly made an appointment and went in for my insertion.
In a perfect world, getting an IUD goes like this....
You go to the office, lay on the table and chat with your midwife while they gently insert the IUD into your uterus. You laugh with her, and talk about how awesome it's going to be not to have to worry about birth control for the next 5 years, feel a tiny little pinch and voila, it's in. You're good. High fives all around. You skip out to the car feeling all proud and protected, and give yourself a pat on the back for taking control of your fertility. You go home, have sex with your husband, and laugh in the face of a positive pregnancy test. Life is beautiful.
In the real world, getting an IUD goes like this...
Before you leave for your appointment, you start Googling "Mirena insertion" and immediately proceed to kick yourself in the tail for doing so. There are pages of horror stories about the pain, and you show up at the midwife's office a nervous wreck. Waiting in the paper gown, you notice this foot long box sitting on the table nearby labeled "Mirena" and you start to make a run for it and just have 10 more babies, but your husband stops you and says, "GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, WOMAN!" The midwife comes in and assures you that everything is going to be okay. It is a little painful for women who haven't had children, she explains, but since you have and your cervix is a little open from childbirth, they should just be able to jam that sucker in there with no problem. They're just going to take this tool which looks like a skinny yardstick to measure your uterus. Okay, ouch. That hurts a little. Ow, ow, ow, ow! You reach over for your husband's hand and squeeze it a little. The midwife then proceeds to tell you that despite the fact that you've just pushed a baby out, your cervix is still in the way, so she's going to need to use this instrument that can only be described as a medieval torture device to....are you ready for this???...
Let's have a moment of silence on that note.
You turn white and glare at your husband who gives you a knowing smile and a little "You can do it" cheer. You brace yourself, she inserts the "instrument" and as she
(just wanted you to remember that part), you decide this is what hell must be like. The pain makes you see spots and start sweating and get dizzy and wish that you could be pushing a baby out of your vagina without meds instead of this. It hurts that bad. When the insertion is finally over (what seems to be about 2 days later), you apologize to your husband for drawing blood on his hand, gather your things, and hobble out to the car with the instructions not to have sex for 2 weeks. 10-4 on that one. Sex is the furthest thing from your mind right now. When those 2 weeks are up, you finally give the ol' IUD a test drive and it stabs your husband's penis like tiny little needles. Sex is painful for you as well. You feel like a virgin again, and are so sore that you walk around like a horse has booted you in the crotch.
So, yeah. Not such a happy ending with the IUD yet. I read Rebecca Woolf's accounts of her troubles with her Mirena and I should have listened. My hair isn't falling out, I still have my sex drive, and I haven't been struck with yeast infections yet, but so far Mirena is not my friend. IED, indeed, Rebecca. IED, indeed.