Plumbing
Saturday morning at 9 am I had a visit to the gynaecologist specialist.
Nine o’clock in the bloody morning. On a Saturday. If a man is going to be flashing some lights up my cooch on a Saturday morning he’d better be calling me darling and pouring me mimosas on a bed with far too many pillows, not requiring me to shower beforehand and drive through the fucking snow just to get to his office.
For the past four months or so my body’s been slowing going downhill. Never mind dealing with relationships, my joints are going on strike, my colon has effectively told me to fox trot oscar, and my insides have decided to act like an asshole. Men, look away for this paragraph and then come back at the next one, ok? Right, so for the past four or five months, I’ve been getting a period every three weeks. Said period lasts five days and is so heavy that I’d like to roll up the Michelin Man and stuff him up the front passage to staunch the flow. As soon as the period ends I spend the next two weeks spotting heavily until the next period comes along. It’s a brilliant time, and part of the reason I jumped at the chance to buy 196 tampons on sale.
OK so – men are you back now? Right. I went to the specialist and found out he’s actually a urinary/gynae specialist. As someone who has spent her life dashing to the toilet every twenty seconds, this pleased me. Further, he felt my constant bladder and kidney infections were A Problem.
“But I was scanned and told my organs look normally shaped,” I replied.
“I don’t care how they’re shaped,” he replied calmly. “I care how they function.”
And that my friends is why despite my pinkness I can’t help but love private health insurance, particularly as it means a problem is going to be fixed this time.
We talked. I was examined. He seemed to think I would be upset about being examined, up until the point I explained I’d had five rounds of IVF. Then he acted like he was checking any motor car in the motor pool.
After the exam I swished my way back to his desk courtesy of the 450 litres of lube he’d used.
We talked options, some of them more frank than I realized at the time.
I am to undergo a whole series of tests, including but not limited to a hysteroscopy in the next month. The only good thing I have to say about all of this, besides hopefully finding an answer, is that at least I get knocked out for the hysteroscopy because seriously – that’s the kind of procedure that sounds like I don’t want to be there for.
He told me that if the biopsy he wants to perform is normal, then I am to be fitted with a Mirena Coil. Seeing as I’ve been long out of the birth control loop, I didn’t know what one of those was. Turns out it’s a type of IUD, and we covered the basics.
“You’re not going to have any more children, right?” he clarified.
I thought about my life for a moment there. I thought about my fantastic stepkids were back in Sweden but due back in a month. I thought about my two bouncing toddlers were at home with their father, likely bouncing around the house to Thomas the Tank Engine. I thought about how hard – how fucking, horribly hard – it was to get pregnant and have the twins. I thought about how I had been told that pregnancy and I, we would never be friends. I thought about Alastair and his approaching age of 48 and his wishes to be an active, youthful father. I thought about how each month our nursery bill is more than our monthly mortgage payment. I thought about how it’s important to me to have a stable, happy environment for the children, complete with whatever limited financial security we can offer. I thought about the fact that I am turning 36 in a few months and what that means for fertility. I thought about the needles and the IVF and the hell that you go through wishing and hoping and making bargains with various deities. I thought about how my lucky socks are in the post winging their way to another woman that I am quietly hoping and cheering for. I thought about how much I love my family, how much I love my children. I thought about how the idea of having another little baby in the house elicited both a sentiment of “Oh how wonderful!” equally mixed with “Are you fucking crazy, lady?”.
“No,” I replied finally. “No more children.”
Even before this appointment I knew that I would not be having any more children. Deep down, I knew. And now I am heading into this territory that makes it permanent. If the scans and biopsy are normal, I’m having a Mirena Coil surgically inserted. According to the specialist it will make my periods end. It lasts for 5 years, at which point another coil will be surgically inserted. After that they will check to see if my body has entered menopause. If I have, then…well job done I guess (and holy hell – am I that close to menopause? Fuck.)
And so here it is. My bladder and kidneys aren’t functioning normally. My womb (as he keeps calling it, which makes me feel like sniggering immaturely) is not functioning normally. And even though I have talked about and come to terms with the fact that Nick and Nora are the only biological children I will ever have, this is it. Baby Factory Closed.
Now I am going to be facing something which brings it home. While getting my periods under control which, believe me, I am delighted about, I will be riding out the last of my possible years as a mother with a little piece of plastic that releases hormones into me. It’s like the hammer, ending the auction. This is it. I feel a bit like a surfer, riding a wave to a shore called Menopause.
And it makes me feel a little sad, if I’m honest. Even though I am at peace with my choices, with my children, with our future as a family. I have the two most amazing, fun, happy, gorgeous children in the world (really, there’s no bias here.) I ran the fucking IVF race and I fell at two hurdles with two miscarriages, but I won the IVF lottery and have boy/girl twins, the alleged diamond in the IVF tiara. My situation is sublime by some standards, including those that I personally had in 2006.
But I don’t know why, but it makes me just a little bit sad, riding this last crest into the twilight of this phase of my life. This part of me, it’s over. It’s done. And I’m ready to let it all go but it doesn’t mean I’m not just a little bit blue over it.
-S.
I think all women face that. I had many of the same emotions and never went through your situation. I think it is just another hurdle of life you realize you will never cross again. Best of luck on getting the body in shape!
Be careful with the IUD. Sometimes they can be painful. The strings may also be felt by your male counterpart during sex after it’s newly inserted (which is not comfortable for said man). Just FYI.
I am glad they are finding answers for you.
I think I would feel the same way if I had to face the end of child-bearing. Completely understandable. :)
Laura is right – we all go through this when we finally realize that our last child is, indeed, our last child. HOWEVER – you are then rewarded with grandchildren at some point in the future. And that’s when you forget the last little bit of being blue over it. Don’t worry – you’re a normal mommy and woman.
I feel awful for pointing it out, but the Mirena IUD may cause your joints to pack up and go on strike. I was strongly advised against it because of the progesterone only nature of it. The dr seemed to think that with the EDS, it would be a bad bad idea for me.
But after going through the same bleeding type stuff as you, I know how you feel and I hope like crazy that the Mirena is the best thing you’ve ever done.
I understand how you feel about the twins being your only and last children. It is an odd feeling, but you will probably find that the benefits will outweigh the sadness. Good luck! (And after reading the above comments, what about endometrial ablation? Is that not an option in your case?)
I had my mirena put in this past June. So far, it’s been a positive experience. I was having pretty heavy periods, too. Wearing a tampon and a super duper heavy duty pad. Going through those in 45 minutes. My last period was – I kid you not, half a day. I bought a box of tampons (my first since June) and I used one tampon. You can’t beat that. It did not hurt one single bit going in and the whole procedure took maybe three minutes. I have not had any cramping. I have had a tad more spotting than I ever did pre-mirena but not enough to complain about. I do have to mention that I have had some aching in the joints in my hands. Arthritis seems to run in my family, so maybe that’s why I notice it. It’s not bad aching, though..it just kind of feels like my fingers are swelling (such as in extreme heat during the summer) Feel free to e-mail if you want to know anything else about my experiences with it.
And I understand where you’re coming from when you decide that you are DEFINITELY not having anymore. I love, love, LOVE my girls. But having two under two has been a physical, emotional and financial stress. Much love to you. : )
Here is a link that may be helpful. http://edsalert.wordpress.com/category/medical/.
My girls were given the given the same advice when they were younger. Youngest has PCOS and has been on PCBs since age 14 due to a ruptured ovarian cyst and has had much less joint issues than older daughter who has not used BCPs. During the last national conference we did an informal survey at one of the doc’s request and there did seem to be a consensus that those women who took some sort of BCP did seem to report fewer problems with joint pain and dislocations than those who did not. Totally nonscientific, but no one that I talked to was using the coil for the reason cited in the alert, so you may want to discuss this with the doc.
Sorry if we have thrown a wrench in your plans!
Mirenas seriously rock. The hysterectomy rates (believe me THAT is more permanent, a mirena can come out if required/anything ever changes) have gone through the floor since mirenas came in to being. Amazing what a tiny dose of progesterone to errant endometrium can do.
There is also endometrial laser ablation but that’s, obviously, kinda permanent, too.
Also, I’m assuming your gynae is looking for the underlying hormonal as well as anatomical reason for the bleeding stuff. Even though the solution shall be wending it’s way northwards through your south parts soon enough.
Finally, as a woman who has had a bazillion kidney infections, stones, uti’s, admissions with serious sepsis and delerium second to the previous, I feel your pain. My kidneys aren’t normal, but then again I have always liked to do things differently.
Double finally, because you seem to have hit a nerve, I sucked at pregnancy harder than the proverbial toothless prossie, and yet I can’t feel ‘done’. My spouse is also older, we’re pretty damn rocky at best right now, daycare bill suitably astronomical, I like my sleep and I hated IVF. But I’d do it again in a hearbeat.
Clearly I like to suffer.
g
I understand. We are also done. We wanted one child. We now have Lexi and she couldn’t be more perfect. I honestly don’t want any more children, but it still makes me a little blue to know that I’m done. So, I understand.
I really wanted just one child, we tried for 3 years and were unsuccessful, now I am 45 and on Lybrel (BCP with no placebo = no periods) to keep the endo under control. And yet, I am not over it, a piece of me died the day we decided to stop trying and I’ve never been the same since that day. So you go ahead and feel blue, you should.
So sorry for all the crap your body is doing. That sucks!
I have mentioned this to you before, but even though I am pretty sure we’re done, saying so makes me sad.
I haven’t been through close to what you have, but every time I read your feelings on this coming to a close, it gets me. Our paths to this point are different, but I am there with you my friend. My heart aches for you and along with you.
Oh God. The plumbing! The plumbing!
The whole fertility thing is so hard-fought and hard-won for, you know, ‘us’, that having to say good-bye to it, even when it’s perfectly obvious that this is the right and meet thing to do, SUCKS ARSE. With a lovely garnish of nettles.
Seriously hoping the hysteroscopy (oh, ick, poor love) shows nothing too wildly amiss and it can all be treated without aggravating the EDS. Because, Christ, how much would THAT suck?
It always astonishes me the way the Universe saves its best mind-fucks for the people who really don’t deserve one. And the nastiest health-issues for those who most deserve to be cartwheeling through daisies or some-such. Anyone would think Pat Robertson was right and sane.
I had the Mirena a bit over 4 years ago and I’ve not had a period in 4 years. It’s WONDERFUL!!! The comment of “surgically inserted” isn’t necessarily the right term. They manually dialate your cervix and push it in. You aren’t sedated in the least (not even a Valium). I will say it’s not comfortable if you’ve never delivered vaginally but SO worth it!! It’s much better than dealing with heavy periods each month. Not everyone ceases having periods but there are many lucky ladies who do.
Good luck!
I thought I had come to terms with the idea that I’d never have biological children of my own, till I sat in on my best friend’s 3 month scan.
After the last 10 years of seeing my own scans with various tumours in my womb I didn’t realise quite had badly it would hit me to see a living thumbsucking baby in her womb. And I wept, I wept so badly I had to leave the clinic and spent the next 2 days in my bedroom sobbing into my pillow.
That was a year ago last week. And I’ve finally excepted that it will never be ‘ok’ that I didn’t get the chance of motherhood. I don’t cry anymore about it, but there will always always be a part of me lost for ever.
Part of me wants to scream that you have been blessed so much with your babies, but the other part of me knows that closing the door on the chance to have any (more) babies is a very hard day indeed.
Whew. I’m still not used to seeing “Mama Pants” in places where I didn’t write it! :-)
Dude, I love my Mirena. No more period. I get an occasional comma. Faaaaabulous! I haven’t bought tampons in a couple of years. The last box I bought is still mostly full.
I voluntarily shut down my own factory back in May. And made sure it was shut down by my husband getting the ol’ sniperoo as well. I was THAT SURE I was done. And it still makes me sad too. I think it’s completely normal.
Timely post as I lay here recovering from my somewhat elective* hysterectomy – that I am 100% totally thrilled with, by the way. I’ve never envisioned myself as a biological parent and am over the moon with my daughter who was adopted from China nearly 2 years ago. Adopting her made me even more certain that bio wasn’t the right road for us which made me even more okay with pursuing the hysterectomy. I’m 39.
And all of that still didn’t stop me from fretting over the damned finality of it. I worried it to death for a couple of days and then realized that it was a sort of emotional grieving process that I needed to work through despite the intellectual knowledge of this being the right decision for me and my family.
*I say elective because I could have stayed on the same old, same old endo treatments that didn’t really work that well anyway. I requested the hysterectomy, got turned down by one doc because I didn’t have bio kids (ugh!), and found a more enlightened one who finally took me seriously.
I can only add to the chorus-I think those of us that know we are done having kids still wince at the thought of not having anymore kids. ever..
Even though I DO NOT want to have more kids, and that I have heavy, wacky periods, it was Adam who got snipped. The finality of me getting something done scared me. I have no idea why, because getting pregnant would scare me even more. As I begin to show signs of menopause (at 36!), there’s a certain kind of sadness that goes along with it. How HRT is going fuck with me causes a lot of worries too.
xoxo
Yeah, I also have to chime in and say that you should be really careful with the IUD. I had constant, escalating spotting, which worsened post intercourse with mine (not a mirena – standard non hormone one) I think I am a little cynical though – each attempt by my gynae to suspend my menstruation has resulted in a redoubling of my bodies efforts to screw me over – ie. more bleeding than with nothing.
Crap, thanks for reminding me I have to make a long-overdue gyno appointment. I was enjoying not remembering.
Hey, Shannon. Still reading, but a lazy commenter. Just wanted to say how much I appreciate the honesty in your blogs. It’s gut-wrentching and refreshing at the same time. Just a note to say I look forward to your entries.
I am so not ready to not have more children either, yet we’ve made that decision, and in a weird way I am at peace with it. Hope they find something that works for you.
Lost my factory via hysterctomy at the age of 37. That was a real loss feeling, kind of amputation-like, although physically only minor unpleasant. So, this sounds a little easier, although I understand your blues very well.
Are there any side effects or dangers of progesterone?
Yeah, my wife & I have resigned ourselves to enjoying our grandchildren, including the one on the way in a few weeks and the one we’re currently raising.
I’m having some serious issues, too, and I’m frightened. I’m frightened that I’m going to end up with no lady plumbing like my mom, my grandma, and my great-grandma. I’m frightened that I’m going to be like my aunt – unable to have more children because of a disease. I have two beautiful, non-ivf conceived children. We want one more.
I’m terrified my baby days are over.
But, it’s probably something routine and normal. I’m trying to stay positive while I simultaneously ride the reins of terror. I make a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.
I am in the last couple of months of having the Mirena IUD and I have been SO happy with it! I tell every woman I know about it, and many have got it from my recommendation! I haven’t had a period for almost 5 years, and very rarely have PMS. It didn’t hurt too much going in, very much like a regular exam. For the 24 hours following though, I had horrible cramps, like a bad period cramp, (which I had every single month for my entire life up until that point) then they magically disappeared and haven’t come back for 5 freakin’ years! I spotted for a couple of weeks afterwards, and for the first couple of months I got very light periods, not even enough to use a tampon for. Then poof they were gone and I haven’t looked back since.
Of course we are different people, and your experience may be different. From my experience I can highly recommend it. I’ve been trying to talk my hubby into another baby but after 3 kids he’s not having any of it – in a way I’m relieved, but a bit sad. So I think that part of it is normal.
“holy hell – am I that close to menopause?”
Maybe. Depends on your family. Not that I expect you to ask them, really.
And don’t worry about what you “should” or “should not” be feeling. You’re entitled to feel the things you feel, and one of them is that we don’t like to close off options, even if we know we’re not going to be taking them.
And I like your doctor’s attitude. That’s somebody who cares about proper diagnoses.
It hits you a lot harder than you think it will. When I was pregnant, I was just done. Over it. I knew there would come a time that I would grieve over it. I just didn’t think it would be when my baby was still a baby.
I think knowing the quick and dirty finality of it all, really just hit home for me. But really, I should count my blessings. I’m lucky to have two great kids. And one of each. Like a complete family! (sarcasm on that last part).
I get that. In those little undistracted moments where we are asked to consider our mortality and say goodbye to parts of our youth and womanly identity, it makes me want to sit down with a bowl full of carbs covered with more carbs. Then again, I also know a lot of people who have had so much fun and emotional freedom in their old age that I can’t help but make a few plans for what I intend to try to get away with.
My twin boys were conceived the same day as yours via IVF, too. I started following you on that last cycle. I should have previously delurked but didn’t. Your feelings are so understandable and hit a cord here. I am glad you are getting answers. You are a talented writer – I am one more fan.
Yeah, I get it. Actually, I think you get it more than I get it. Even though I never even got to decide I wanted to have kids (or not). Premature ovarian failure years before I got married for the first time. So I can do better even than a half-day period, Lindsay! I got nuttin’! ;)
I was blue and pissed and thought for a time about revenge (yes, rational, I know) on my own body. I SMOKED for a time just to get back at my stupid abnormal and badly-functioning body. It was my pathetic version of “Oh yeah? Well fuck you back.” Then I just accepted it (as you will) as terrain that’s easier to negotiate with (medical) intervention. It often is. And often, for some, it’s really the only option. So? I’m glad you got to use your lady parts for what they were intended, whatever that means.
Anyway – Shannon – I’m a doc, so consider my opinion as about as useful as any other. Heh. You’ll be on a stable/constant dose of hormones with Mirena, but with fewer options (okay, only one – have it removed) in case the particular estrogen or progestin contained therein doesn’t agree with you. Ask this doc why he thinks that menstrual suppression via any (yes, any) OCP isn’t acceptable, given that he thinks Mirena IS a viable option (and I presume you agree; so do I). There are other advantages – the pill is less invasive and can’t cause the potential-but rare-anatomic or physical problems that the IUD-like device could. They both do and ARE the same damn thing, with the exception of dosage route, and off-label is okay even across the pond. I’d be curious to know, but also completely respect your decision to go with Mirena too. While there are (relatively unusual) exceptions, it works quite nicely for very many women.
Looking forward to seeing you less anemic. :)
First of all, nearly died laughing at the ’swished back’ part. Secondly, totally learned something about Mirena coils. I knew as soon as my second one was born that this was my last, probably on account of the fact that I nearly bought the farm in the 48hrs following his birth. But still, even now, as I *know* that I *could* have more. I know I’m done.
To give perhaps a little bit too much information, but in the hopes it’ll help you: all the women in my family have major menstrual issues. Cramping, pain, blood… when I went off the pill, I threw up on the street from the pain. My mom had the UID put in and had to have it removed three days later due to the fact that it just hurt so much. So I opted for the implant. It’s about the size of a match stick, goes into your arm with local anesthetic and stays there for three weeks. It’s lighter than the pill so doesn’t really bother me… and I very rarely have a period now. When I do, it’s a light one. Maybe a little uncomfortable, but nothing like what I used to experience.
As for another commenter who mentioned that the UID is estrogen, the implant is progesteron.
http://www.patient.co.uk/health/Implanon-The-Contraceptive-Implant.htm
I feel your pain too (about the possibility/reality of no more children), and thank you for writing the feelings so eloquently. I also have two-year old IVF twins and despite being nearly 44, still am not sure that I am done with babies. It’s a hard thing to give up at any time, any age I think.
On a brighter note, I had a Mirena put in when my twins were 3 months old and it may become a new love in your life. I also had frequent periods and terrible ovulation cramps before and with Mirena, barely a spot every few months. Wonderful. I wish you the same experience.
good luck exploring the plumbing – they may find something ’simple’ like a polyp or two – sounds crazy, but they can be the culprit (and their absence can be the fix).
I love it when you write posts like this. Tis why I keep coming back.
I looked into Mirena myself. I’d love to get one the only thing holdling me back is the cost of $400 which isn’t covered by our persription drug plan. (Even in Canada and my partner serves his country being in the Navy) When I called our insurance company to inquire I was told that only oral contraceptives are covered. I told them it was in their best interest cover Mirena because if I conceive they’re the ones covering another insuree.
Not to put a dampener on your messages about the Mirena, as everyone is different- here is my experience. I got the Mirena in 2006, 2 months after my daughter was born. It sounded the best option for contraception. (I mean what woman would say no to the promise of no periods and no pains?) Well I had no periods for a year which was great! The second year onwards very irregular periods. In the second year the doctor had to give me tablets to stop me bleeding as I was becoming Anaemic losing so much blood. Anyway the problem sorted itself out until this year. (3 and a half years later) I was experiencing periods every second week! This then followed in January with severe abdominal pains. The pain was worse than childbirth! I was referred to the gaenocologist last Friday only to be told my coil was the cause! I had an ovarian cyst the size of a tennis ball apparently and my coil had penetrated and made a hole in my womb! Luckily it hadn’t caused too much damage but I was put straight into surgery the next day (Saturday) for a Laparotomy (incision across abdomen) and the coil and cyst removed. I now have to rest up for 6-8 weeks. The doctor asked if I’d like another Mirena, I said “no, keep it”
I have since searched common problems with the Mirena and realised that what I experienced can be fairly common and I was one of the lucky ones as it could have been more severe.
I suggest doing your homework on contraception before deciding the best one to take. I will in future :)
It’s a hard thing to say goodbye to. Something most women don’t have to say goodbye to and men don’t really ever say goodbye to. I’m sorry you have to face it this way and I hope you give yourself the chance to grieve it.
You have a lovely family, and I’m so happy for you for that.
I love the Mirena. I’ve had mine for over 2 years now. It was incredibly uncomfortable having it placed. I recommend taking whatever arsenal of drugs that are available to you beforehand. I was shocked because my MD did not prepare me for the amount of discomfort it would cause. I was seriously lightheaded and nauseated during and directly after its placement. The cramping was nasty for a couple of days afterwards as well. I still had a sensation of something odd inside for a week or so – kind of like I needed to pee, but the feeling subsided (or I don’t notice it) and I’ve loved it ever sense. I do have mini-periods every four or five months (and only for a day or two). It’s so worthwhile.
Said period lasts five days and is so heavy that I’d like to roll up the Michelin Man and stuff him up the front passage to staunch the flow
I had a good friend once tell me that she wanted to tie a tourniquet around her waist because her flow was so heavy?
What can I say? Lots of my friends have been women and they shared. A lot. Wouldn’t have it any other way, either.
Take care of yourself.