IUD (TMI), Part II

Again, don't forget to enter my giveaway!

Welcome to Part II of my birth-control journey, the part of the story where I tell you all about the IUD insertion. Please be sure to read Part I in the saga prior to delving in to today's post. You wouldn't want to miss out on all of those juicy details.

Again, if you're not interested in the Journey of TMI, you may just want to exit out of this ol' blog now and stop back for a PG daily recap later this evening. You're welcome.

After leaving my gynecologist's office and before heading in for the actual procedure, I did my research (shocking). This mainly consisted of talking to every single one of my girlfriends about what it was going to feel like, but it also included perusing the lovely brochure my doctor gave me:

Just look at those women: relaxing by the ocean, basking in the sun, loving life with their IUDs.

And then comes the requisite illustration of female anatomy.

Interestingly, I did not do a whole lot of online research, which was probably a good thing. I'm doing a bit of research now to write this post, and I am terrified by what I'm reading. So, just cross your fingers that perforation, expulsion, ovarian cysts, and/or an (immaculately-conceived) ectopic pregnancy are not in my future.

Before I knew it, April 9th (aka The Day) rolled around, and I was terrified. First, I couldn't take any drugs beforehand (which is what the doctor recommended at my previous appointment) since I am likely allergic to all sorts of NSAIDs. Second, I had no idea what to expect -- aside from the crazy pain that I experienced during the "let's check the depth of your uterus" procedure.

I took a few hours off from school and headed to the doctor's office. When I was finally called back, I peed in a cup (not pregnant) and was taken to my room where this awaited me:

Yep, I took a pic in the gynecologist's exam room. You're
lucky this is the only pic I took in the exam room.

That alone sent me into a conniption. I have never seen so many tools and gadgets prior to hopping into those stirrups, including when I had a colposcopy done a few years ago.

Yikes.

I was honestly shocked that my blood pressure was somewhat low -- and not through the freaking roof. I was about to lose my shit.

One thing that I did not take a picture of was the exam-room table. Not only did it have the stiff tissue paper and the sheet just waiting for me, but it also had one of those puppy pads: you know, the thing that you put in your house in case your dog isn't potty-trained.

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Yep, that.

That upped my holy-shit factor by about 20 bazillion. Was I going to bleed out on the table?

As directed, I stripped from the waist down and sat on the puppy pad while I freaked out some more and waited on the doctor.

When she entered the room about five minutes later and cheerfully asked me how I was doing, I told her the truth: "Scared shitless." She, of course, laughed (because I'm soooooo funny, duh), told me I'd be fine, and started prepping the torture devices.

I laid back on the table, scooted my butt down "just a little further," "relaxed," and started freaking out even more.

(Are you sensing a theme? Lots of freaking out happened a week ago.)

First, she inserted the speculum, which was just the usual discomfort. She continued to tell me how well I was doing, and I thought to myself, "If this is all there is, piece of cake! Bring on the IUD!" She continued messing with the gadgets on the table, and then according to the Mayo Clinic (since I was too preoccupied with not dying during the procedure to ask questions), "cleansed the vagina and cervix with an antiseptic solution."

Around this time, she also did the whole "stab-my-lungs-through-my-vagina" procedure to try and kill me "test the depth of my uterus" and "align my cervical canal with my uterine cavity."

This time the test took quite a bit longer than the 20 seconds it did in the previous appointment. And I'm not going to lie: I definitely screamed holy shit! and Exorcist-crawled backwards on the exam table. The doctor kept trying to soothe me: "You're doing just great. You're almost done. Awesome job."

Yeah, right.

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Thankfully, after what seemed like an eternity, I got a little bit of a respite while she prepped the next stage of the torture procedure. I'm pretty sure she was talking to me (and I may have been answering, who knows), but I was too focused, again on not dying, that I have repressed that part of the appointment.

The doctor turned from the line-up of instruments back to my pain-riddled lady bits, and I instinctively slammed my knees together -- until she told me to "just relax" yet again.

Lady, you are jabbing pointy objects into a place that is not supposed to be entered. There is not going to be any relaxation happening.

But, I relaxed as much as possible, thinking that a.) the faster I relaxed, the faster this would all be over, and b.) maybe if I relaxed, it wouldn't hurt as badly.

The next step of the procedure (again, according to Mayo) was to insert the actual IUD through an applicator tube.

There are much more interesting pictures/photos online,
but this is the tamest I could find. I'm sure you all know
how to use Google if you're so inclined.
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This step, just like the last one, was so incredibly painful -- and this is a pain that is indescribable, a pain of which you are not even aware unless you have also had your uterus manipulated from the inside. Honestly, I cannot even remember how it felt, and I'm not sure I could even describe it if I did: it was the most unique (and most crazy) pain I have ever experienced.

Just like when she used the stab-y uterine sound, I shimmied backwards on the table, clenched my hands in the tightest of fists, and may or may not have dropped the F Bomb and a few other expletives -- prior to, of course, apologizing to the doctor for my language.

It's hard to believe that something this little and "cute" could
cause so much f'ing pain.
Source

I was still stuck on the table with the speculum oh-so-comfortably jammed between my legs while the doctor trimmed the strings to the IUD.

Immediately after the procedure was done, my first thought was well, I no longer want a natural childbirth. Seriously, that's the first thing I thought. Ever since reading Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife, I have wanted natural childbirths (and have had an even greater appreciation and respect for my mama). After this tiny little procedure, I'm thinking natural childbirth might literally kill me.

The doctor was cleaning up the counter, talking to me the entire time, and I was lying right where she left me. I felt super queasy, literally exactly how I felt before fainting after my first tattoo and before passing out while donating blood. So, instead of sitting up, I laid right there on the table, legs still in stirrups -- spread eagle. (You know I must not have felt good because I gave two shits about what it looked like down there and kept my feet right where the doctor had them throughout the whole thing. I was not about to move.)

I'm pretty sure I looked just like this.
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In the meantime, the doctor told me that I was not allowed to wear tampons for the rest of this cycle, as the strings were still getting themselves situated, and she didn't want me to risk pulling them out. Um, yeah thanks: I don't want to risk that either. But, I have also not used a pad in, oh, 17 years, and I also wore a thong today. Awesome.

After a few minutes, I decided I should probably attempt to sit up. I didn't necessarily feel any better, but I also knew that the situation was not going to improve with me just hanging out in the gyno's office. So, I sat up -- and was immediately washed over with the most extreme cold sweats ever. You know how sometimes you sweat profusely while shivering? Yeah, it was exactly like that. I was pretty much two seconds from passing out.

The doctor apparently thought I was doing just fine, however, and left the room. While I was hanging out on the exam room table, trying not to pass out and/or puke all over, I heard the conversation in the next room (why the walls at a doctor's office aren't thicker, I don't know):

Doctor: So, are you thinking you want to go back on birth control?
Patient (who presumably was about six weeks postpartum): Yeah, I think so.
Doctor: What were you thinking?
Patient: Well, I was considering the IUD until I heard what happened in the neighboring room, so now I'm just thinking the Pill.
Doctor: [nervous laughter]

Oh, crap. Someone had the pleasure of listening to me panic and curse. Awesome.

I sat there for a couple more minutes and then literally thought to myself, "Okay, Em: you just need to make it to your car. You just need to make it to your car. You just need some air. Just get to the car. Then you can puke if you still need to." (Yes, I had totally perused the room, and there was nowhere to throw up if necessary, and I wasn't about to have Nosy McNoserson hear me vomit up my pain anyway.) So I haphazardly threw on my nice work clothes and headed out of the office.

It felt like it took the desk clerk 18 years to make my four-week check-up appointment (to make sure that the IUD is still in my uterus and not in my liver or colon or diaphragm or outer space). I just. needed. to get. outside.

This picture has nothing to do with anything: I just thought it was funny.
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Finally, after getting some air and chilling in my car for a bit (and not throwing up all over the parking lot), I felt a bit better.

Aside from a few cramps throughout the day (either from the IUD insertion or just from my period in general), I felt pretty darn good. I went back to school and led professional development, I met with my student teacher, I went bowling, etc. I felt fine.

And now a week later, things are absolutely 100% normal: no period, no cramping, no nothing.

Here's hoping to it staying that way for the next five years.

Thanks for following along on Emmy's BC Journey.

What have been your experiences -- positive and/negative -- with birth control? Any good stories to share?

IUD (TMI), Part I

Don't forget to enter my giveaway for matcha green tea powder!

Those of you who know me in real life know that I am an open book: there is pretty much nothing I won't talk about. (And honestly, those of you who know me in blog land have probably figured that out, too.)

One thing that I like talking about -- and one thing I think more women should talk about -- is ladies' issues: for instance, birth control, gynecological exams, weird shit that happens down there, etc. I mean, if we don't talk about it, how will we know stuff? How will we share advice and help each other out?

Also, I'm a doctor's daughter: absolutely nothing was off-limits for discussion in our house. That has clearly translated to my adult life.

So on that note, I am going to tell you all the gory details of my IUD insertion last week. You can either stop reading now or thank me later. :)

Such a fun position to be in: "Just relax and scoot a little further down."
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First, let's chat about why I opted for the IUD.

I went on the birth control pill when I was 17, and I went on it for period control (and okay, a little "just in case" insurance since I did have a long-term, serious boyfriend). The first pill that I took was Yasmin, and it worked really, really well for me.

Over the course of several years, I got switched to the generic versions, both Zarah and Ocella, since my insurance would not cover the brand-name pill if generics were available. When I initially switched from brand-name to generic, I had some definite issues (mainly irritability and other PMS symptoms) that I discussed with my doctor. She suggested going back on the brand-name pill because the hormone dose can vary quite significantly from brand-name to generic, making the generic almost an entirely different drug. (I am not going to pretend I wholly know what I'm talking about here due to my lack of pharmaceutical knowledge, but I one-hundred percent know that the doctor told me this.) However, I was not about to spend $50 per month on one medicine, so I decided to buck up and deal with the generic.

Yep, the pill that makes people die. Awesome.
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A few years ago, I started having more issues: these ones, however, were much more serious. For about a year, I got a migraine about once a month, and I had never had a migraine before. It took me nearly that entire year to notice that each time I got a migraine, I was on the placebo pills, not on the active birth control pills. Being the Type A person that I am, I immediately did some research and realized that I was most likely suffering from menstrual migraines, migraines that resulted from a lack of hormones being pumped through my body.

Initially, I pretty much just thought, "Well, this sucks," and dealt with it. Yay, Ibuprofen.

I talked to my doctor at my yearly appointment, and she decided to have me take four packs of pills at a time, skipping over the placebo pills, so that I only got my period once every three months. This was awesome: getting my period fewer times sounded heavenly to me.

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And it started out great. The first cycle went swimmingly -- until my period came, and with it the most killer of all killer migraines. It was like my body had saved up all of its headaches for three months, simply to pummel them at me all at once. It was debilitating, and I stayed at home in the dark for two days.

But, I thought that if that only happened once every three months, I could deal with it. So, I kept on truckin'.

Then, I started getting my period randomly. Maybe I was on Day 21, or maybe I was on Day 47, or maybe I was on Day 53 -- my body seemed to not care at all and gave me my period regardless. Some days my period only showed up when I wiped, and others it was full-blown, I-need-a-tampon-right-now. Some days I had major cramping, and other days I had no idea anything was happening down there.

And whenever my period decided to show up, it decided to last until it was supposed to come -- and then it just came more and more and more.

So essentially, instead of only getting my period once every three months, I was getting it once every three months for approximately eight weeks at a time.

I'm sure you can imagine how fun that was.

Of course, I discussed these issues with my doctor. She decided that instead of the Yasmin/Ocella/Zarah/whatever I was taking, I should switch to something with a lower-dose of hormones. (It was around this time, too, that I really started questioning the amount of hormones that I was ingesting, the amount of weird shit that was coursing through my veins on a daily basis.) So, she switched me to Loestrin, a very low-dose birth control pill.

Again, the first cycle was amazing: nothing was abnormal, and I just had a teeny migraine when I got my period.

The second, third, fourth, etc. cycles were a different story. Again, my body said, "Screw this shit," and gave me my period whenever it damn well pleased.

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Meanwhile, all of my friends were raving about their IUDs, saying they were life-changing, that they cannot believe they didn't get them sooner, that it was the best form of birth control they'd ever used, etc. This entire time I was telling them that the IUD made me nervous because of how allergic my body is to absolutely everything: I was nervous that if I got the IUD, my body would attack it, and my uterus would get hives, start sneezing, rebel against me, etc.

Recently, though, I had had enough. I did not want to ingest crazy hormones anymore, I did not want migraines every time I stopped taking pills, and I did not want to get my period a.) sporadically or b.) all the time.

So, I discussed some options with my doctor. She mentioned a different type of birth control pill, one that would vary the amount of hormones throughout the month. And I mentioned the IUD -- specifically Skyla, the IUD with the lowest dose of hormones (aside from Paragard, the copper IUD that has no hormones).

We discussed the pros and cons of each, and my doctor (whom I love so much and trust entirely, one-hundred percent) strongly recommended the Mirena: it has hormones, yes, but it is a very low dose of hormones and is localized to my uterus, not pumping through my bloodstream like the pill. And, because it does have hormones, it will help lessen the duration (and oftentimes frequency) of my periods.

Since, like I said, I trust her wholeheartedly, I opted for the Mirena.

On the day that we decided I'd be getting an IUD, the doctor "measured the depth of my uterus." Friends, let me tell you about that: holy f'ing shit. It does not feel good. First, she inserted the speculum, just like at a normal gynecological exam ("You're going to feel some pressure"), and then I'm pretty sure she shoved something poke-y and stab-y up to my lungs through my cooch.

Apparently this is what the uterine sound looked like:

Source

But for you visual learners, I'm pretty sure it actually looked like this:

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Thankfully, that fun only lasted about 20 seconds until she told me that my uterus looked good and that if I can handle that, I can definitely handle the IUD insertion.

Yippee.

While she was all up in there, she also did a quick check for gonorrhea and chlamydia, as those are apparently not so great, especially with an IUD, apparently. (Don't worry, y'all: I'm a-okay in that regard.)

I did some quick math to figure out when my period was supposed to "for real" arrive and made the actual appointment. (Doctors recommend getting the IUD insertion during menstruation for two reasons: first, it means there is no pregnancy, and second, the cervix is more open.)

So, April 9th became The Day.

If you made it this far into the Emmy Birth Control Saga, congratulations! And please stop by tomorrow to get the real scoop on how the actual insertion went. :)

A Case Study

Thank you all for your kind words on my post this morning. Like I said, it took me forever to write and even longer to post. But, it felt really good getting it out there and hearing from all of you. So thank you. :)

Today was jam-packed and quite exhausting, so I'm going to get right to the play-by-play.

First, I woke up so much less puffy, less rashy than I did yesterday: victory!

Side note: my brother is calling my sister-in-law Jr. Dr. Aly because she is treating me like a Dr. House case study. She has been trying to figure out for the past week what the heck is causing my allergic reactions. Right now, she has it narrowed down to avocados or bananas. Let's play a game: who can guess what's wrong with Emmy?

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Prior to school, I ran by Farrell's, not to workout but rather to grab a jacket (my favorite workout jacket) that I had inadvertently left there last Monday. Then, I sped to school.

I was pretty busy during the morning, and then at 10:30, I had to split for my appointment: I got an IUD today, friends. I am contemplating writing a whole post about this, as it was quite an interesting experience, and I feel it may be helpful to others who are interested. And, while I think a post about it would be quite informative, I also think it would be quite hilarious because of how it all went down. If I decide to give y'all way too much information, expect it to happen next week. :)

After my appointment, I met one of my good friends, CT, out for lunch at Gusto. The food was excellent (more on that later), and the company was awesome. It was nice to have someone to distract me from the pain/sweating/near-fainting that was about to be happening as a result of my appointment. (See? I told you it'd be a good story.)

Then, we had some amazing professional development: Ryan Sallans, a transgender advocate from Omaha, spoke at my school. I read his book, Second Son, about a year ago and really, really enjoyed it and learned a lot from it, so hearing him speak was absolutely awesome. He gave a lot of information about gender and sexuality in general, spoke about how to be a positive support and strong ally to all students, and discussed his own personal story. I loved the presentation, and I am interested to hear what others thought at school tomorrow.

I hung around school a little longer than normal because my former student teacher was stopping by to drop off some work and to chat, and then I finally got home around 5:00.

Whew.

But, I wasn't home for long before I had to cook dinner and head to bowling.

Bowling was good: I sucked the first two games but rocked it the third game. It seemed to go by fairly quickly, which was much appreciated because I was not feeling super fabulously fun (as usual).

I've had a busy week and just need some at-home time. But, I guess that will happen, oh, this summer. :)

Breakfast: I forgot to take a picture of my meal because I was too busy running around trying to get everything taken care of for this afternoon. Picture this: sweet potato, eggs, jalapeno, and mushroom. It really needed some avocado, but I spaced.

Lunch: I forgot to take a picture of my lunch because I was too busy trying not to keel over in pain and/or faint and/or vomit in public. But, it was the salad I usually get from Gusto: the Fromage Bleu Salad (without the blue cheese). The walnuts were a little more peppery than usual today (and there was a ton of red onions scattered throughout), but it was pretty darn good otherwise.

Dinner:

It's a pretty ugly picture, but it was a pretty good dinner: chorizo, eggs, sweet potato, jalapeno, tomato. Yum, yum, yum.

I also drank a Multi-Green Kombucha, followed by a Lime La Croix. Nom nom nom.



Please be sure to link-up with me and Aly tomorrow for our weekly rendition of Three Thanks!