baby steps

I had my IUD removed today, a maneuver that struck me as radically counter to an inveterate 17 year strategy of precaution. I was pregnant once before, at the age of 19, and have since taken extra measures over the years to ensure that I did not have to suffer the same ordeal again. I told myself that an abortion at 19 is one thing, but scoring one in your late 20's or 30's only signals one's stupidity and irresponsibility. A friendly gynecologist once set me straight on this account, however, reminding me that if one is doing everything in her power to prevent a pregnancy and a pregnancy occurs anyhow, then an abortion should remain an ethical option. I was glad of her rationale, figuring I may well find myself with another unwanted pregnancy despite my best efforts to avoid one. In any case, I was not going to get pregnant ever again, so 3 years ago I went for the 10 year copper IUD, calculating that it would get me through the bulk of my remaining fertile years - and by the age of 40 it would be do or die. I never figured I would get it removed with several years of effectiveness left.

The nurse at my local clinic ushered me in to a small, windowless, claustrophobic office and took my blood pressure. I told her why I was there, and she said, randomly and out-of-the-blue, "We have been trying for 2 years now and nothing, nothing..." My heart hurt for her. I have read everywhere that once you decide to get pregnant, you want to get pregnant right now. Nature is not always so cooperative, however, and it pained me to imagine living with the rise of hope and the crestfallen descent into disappointment each and every month for several years. I hoped that is not my fate.

I waited alone for the doctor for what seemed like forever. My anxiety mounted as I imagined myself standing at the precise point where turning back becomes less of an option. "IUD's aren't cheap," I told M this morning as he prepared to head to work, "There are at least 6 more years left on mine -it would suck to have it out and then turn on a dime yet again and have to pay for a new one." But sitting there in that little office, I started to wonder for the millionth time if I was doing the right thing, if having a baby was something I really wanted. Could we afford it? Would we be able to manage childcare? Health insurance? What if we lose our jobs? I put in a last-ditch panicked cellphone call to M. I wanted to let him know that it wasn't too late to call the whole thing off. He reassured me that whatever our circumstances we would be fine and that he really means it when he says he wants to give it a try.

The doctor entered at long last and I hurriedly hung up the phone. When I told the doctor the reason for my visit, she asked in surprise, "are you having any problems with it? -or, are you hoping to become pregnant?" as though those are the only two possible reasons a woman of 33 would want to remove her IUD. Shaking, timid, smiling, anxious and damn near tears, I nodded, "yes, I think I want to become pregnant."