This blog is not FDA approved
My doctor suggested a pregnancy test. No, I said, I’m on birth control. He said, let’s just rule it out before we start looking at more serious causes.
The results came back. Positive? I asked. Positive, he confirmed. Well…there we have it, I said, I’m having another baby. I went home smiling, until I told my then-husband. My then-husband did not smile. He said, goddammit I’m getting fixed.
Eleven months later, he had not so much as consulted with a physician about a vasectomy. He had, however, insisted that I was never, not ever, never-ever to get pregnant again.
The entire responsibility of preventing pregnancy was mine. I was not going to trust birth control pills. Twice I had gotten pregnant while taking the pill. At my six-week postpartum check-up, my mid-wife and I talked about options that weren’t the pill. We covered Depo-Provera, Essure, Mirena, and two surgical options, an endometrial ablation and tubal ligation.
I didn’t want surgery, so I only brought up Depo, Essure, and Mirena when I talked with my then-husband about what I could do to prevent pregnancy. He did not want me to get the shot because he did not want me to gain weight; I had already gained enough from being pregnant. He did not want me to get the Essure because from implant to maximum effectiveness is a three-month time-frame.
The Mirena IUD was my first choice, so I didn’t mind that he discounted the others. It offered everything I was looking for in birth control. I called my mid-wife and we scheduled the IUD for 12-weeks postpartum. I had to somehow keep from getting pregnant in the six-week interim. My then-husband needed his release, so he said; sex was required for his well-being, and therefore mine, and because he was married, condoms were out of the question.
It turned out to be easier than I originally expected to remain baby-free. For a month my then-husband brought himself to release on my stomach or back, depending if he could stand to look at my face that day. And then he threw me through a door in the worst attack since we married. I was hurt enough not to care about his anger at me for refusing sex.
Finally the day of my appointment arrived. It was a Friday. My then-husband was thrilled he would finally be able to have sex again. He was tired of waiting. He had been patiently waiting for two weeks while I dealt with my issues over the door incident.
Everything went as well as could be expected. I was to come back for a follow-up in a month. I was back in the office three days later.
By that evening, I was in pain, a piercing, sharp pain. All night I could feel this indescribable pain in my abdomen. I could feel it when I moved. I could feel it when I was still. It was extreme. I felt it all day Saturday. I still felt it Sunday and so I called the nurse helpline. I described the pain, and we went through a series of questions. Within minutes, it was clear there was a problem with the IUD.
I returned to see my mid-wife Monday morning. She couldn’t find the strings for the IUD. I went for an ultrasound. The technician couldn’t see the IUD. I went for x-rays. The technician found the IUD resting against my left hip bone. I returned to my mid-wife’s office and met with the surgeon. We talked about the surgery and discussed a tubal ligation. There was significant damage to my uterus as a result of the IUD perforating the wall.
The surgeon asked me to return on Tuesday with a decision on having my tubes tied, and be ready to sign the necessary forms. That night my then-husband told me I would be consenting to having my tubes tied. I was in so much pain I didn’t care. I signed the forms on Tuesday.
The doctor I met with Tuesday was not the surgeon who would be performing the surgery. Tuesday was her day off. This doctor explained my fallopian tubes would be cut and cauterized to complete the procedure.
Wednesday I arrived at the outpatient surgery center. After I was given Valium, and before I put to sleep, the surgeon came in to check on me and reassure me everything would be fine. She explained she would be putting tiny little clips called Filshie Clips on each fallopian tube to squeeze them shut. I was confused, and drugged. I told her that’s not what the other doctor explained. She patted my leg and went to scrub in.
When I awoke, I found out again about the clips. I also learned she had put two on the right tube because she felt she hadn’t completely clamped the tube with the first clip. I was furious. I couldn’t understand how I consented to one procedure, yet another was performed. I couldn’t understand how, after the trouble with the IUD, she would put more foreign objects in my body, three more foreign objects. I called her Thursday. I told her I was upset. I told her nothing, and I mean nothing, better go wrong with these.
I was still in pain and still bleeding two weeks later, and still a month later. My then-husband moved us from Georgia to Florida five weeks after the surgery. I wanted to see a doctor; he wanted me to pack boxes. I packed boxes. He had thrown me through a door for disagreeing with his decision to move us to Florida, and so I did not disagree again.
Seven weeks after the surgery, I saw a new doctor. I hadn’t stopped bleeding since the first surgery. I was put on medication to stop it, and we scheduled an ultrasound for two weeks later. The technician found only one clip on each tube. Surgery was scheduled for mid-July to find and remove the missing Filshie Clip. The bleeding didn’t stop.
It turned out that the missing clip wasn’t missing. It was hidden by massive swelling. The bleeding was a result of an infection in the swollen section of the tube. The surgeon removed the clips, and cut and cauterized my tubes. I healed and left my then-husband a month later.
He is my ex-husband now.