I Don't Have Children and I'm Happy About It. Can You Handle That? - 08/28/2014
Silly Things People Have Said to Me When I Tell Them I'm Not Having Kids - 10/21/2013
Why is Being Childless By Choice Still an Issue? - 10/01/2014
What it Really Feels Like to Be a Childfree Woman - 08/16/2014
Those of you Constant Readers who know me well, or who have read my book, know that I chose a childless life long ago. At least, a biological child. I have a number of logical, medical and philosophical reasons for choosing this, but have lacked the ability to truly, indefinitely, make it my choice.
Echoing the messages I've read in articles that outline similar choices, I'll re-state it here: Long ago (like, in my early teen years) I acknowledged a desire for complete reproductive freedom. Of course, at that age no one took me seriously. In my early 20s, the viewpoints had remained unchanged. I was met with frequent--nay, constant--rebuttals à la "You'll grow out of it," or "God wants you to have children" or "You can't possibly know how much you're missing out on." Sure, I can accept that third one, I guess. There are plenty of things I didn't know were kick-ass until I tried them, but in this case for me the risks were not worth the potential benefit.
But here's the really important thing: I was not going to change my mind.
Finally starting in my mid 20s, I began asking doctors about sterilization. No one would listen to me. They continued to dispense The Pill, send me on my way, and say, "We'll see you when you're ready to have babies." I was irritable. I knew the failure rates of alternative forms of contraception. They made me paranoid. How many women had I met over the years who ended up with a "Woops! Uh, I'm a mom now." I did not want that for me. And the consequence was that this was a stressor present at every sexual encounter, in some form. It makes you tired. It makes you less interested in your sexuality.
Then I went to medical school and my paranoia blossomed. The major lesson I learned in my ob/gyn training was that 1) most women really have NO actual idea how their body really works and 2) about 50% of all pregnancies in this country are accidents.
By this time I was about 30, and had kept asking my doctors for a Final Solution. I continued to be rebuffed, if not by the physician then by the insurance company whose policy stated that they would not endorse "any form of elective sterilization." My irritability became fury.
PEOPLE. I HAVE NOT, AND WILL NOT, CHANGE MY MIND. WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME?
It was clear that the world at large cared more about my right to reproduce than my decision whether it was right for me to reproduce. I tried--and subsequently failed--the alternatives: NuvaRing, Mirena, Skyla. It was a 1 1/2 year long hell of mood swings, pelvic pain and inflammatory acne. Of cervical dilatory procedures and bad periods.
Then came Essure. An in-office procedure that permanently places a nickel coil in each fallopian tube and induces inflammatory response such that the body will close off the tube as it encapsulates the foreign body. It was relatively cheap. Paid for by most insurances. And usually produced the same level of reliability as tubal ligation, without surgery. I almost pulled the trigger--until I read about the FDA re-investigation of this device, and concluded that I didn't want anything with such potential for going bad on me later.
Now 33 years old, I went back to the ob/gyn, again, and this time we talked ligation (BTL for short). New data has been accumulating that salpingectomy (a sectioning and removal of the entire tube) is becoming the standard of care, because it allows for pathology review of the tissue. I found this to be highly valuable, since I'd been irradiated and treated with adjuvant chemotherapies. If the data was showing that ovarian cancers are actually first starting in the tubes, and being at higher risk than the average bear, this would allow for direct visualization of both structures AND a pathologist's review? I'd just hit pay-dirt.
We extensively reviewed surgical and anesthetic planning with the priority being preservation of the remaining kidney/ureter. My surgeon brought in an additional surgeon to first assist--a gyn specialist who only does high risk pelvic procedures--since I'd already had open abdominal surgery as a kid, and we were expecting it to look like an adhesion-bomb went off in there. My friends still tried to talk me out of it. My parents (at the same instant) said, "I can't believe this!/Yeah, I saw this coming." I couldn't wait.
 |
| Pre-Op Anticipation |
Every freakin' day I enjoy the security and freedom of knowing that I will never have a "Woops!"
No comments:
Post a Comment