Through a bizarre conglomeration of events, my IUD went rogue, tunneling through my uterus for the vast freedom of my abdomen. Clearly my appendix was a MUCH better place to prevent pregnancy. This prompted a rather quick decision to remove it via surgery and while we’re in there we’ll check out a cyst, get rid of that possible ectopic pregnancy, do a D&C because of the miscarriage and then tie my tubes.
I was really cool with all of that except for the tying of the tubes. I agreed to it because it is the right decision for us but I wasn’t ready for it. Brian does not want more children. For all of the right reasons. He doesn’t want to have to focus more on work than he already does and he stresses about providing for us. He already feels stretched for time with the kids and he loves our family the way it is. I do too. I agree. I want to give our children the world and another one in daycare? Would bankrupt us. I would need to quit my job and stay at home. Meaning we would lose my good health insurance and have to get Brian’s crappy and insanely expensive insurance. I was okay with the whole thing.
Sorta. The thing is… I was banking on those five years of IUD time to allow me to come to terms with no more gorgeous, yummy, sweet babies. I never expected or understood how intoxicating my children would be. I didn’t see how watching them grow would both warm my heart and make me proud but also leave me yearning for those early days.
It’s done now. I’m comfortable with the decision. I wouldn’t have allowed my doc to do it if I wasn’t.
Logically, practically I am alright. Emotionally I’m still sad about it.