I didn’t always know that I didn’t want kids. I mean, growing up, it was one of those things you did as a girl, pretending to get married and have babies and do the whole family thing. Which, I honestly can’t say I did a lot of that really. I wanted to climb trees, ride bikes, play in the dirt and all that other “tomboy” stuff. I didn’t care to play with dolls much.
On through high school, it was just kinda one of those expectations. You’d just one day have kids because that’s what you do when you get involved with someone. I didn’t question it much. But, I never really babysat either. I did other things. I didn’t want to watch someone else’s kids, even if it meant some money. I wasn’t good with them then!
I did get pregnant at 19 and it didn’t exactly work out. It’s likely a good thing though because the guy I was with was a control freak and had every reason to believe that child porn was his thing. And that’s actually just the tip of the iceberg to the hellish things I saw him capable of.
Realizing the possibility of child crimes, seeing how children were being raised (and how they still are!!!), and my general lack of interest in kids period, coupled with birth control options, I just realized that they weren’t for me. I didn’t want them. Maybe ONE day, but not any time soon and no way no how was I about to leave that control in someone else’s hands.
I actually had no idea that “childfree” was a quickly growing lifestyle choice. And initially, I caught some flak from people who figured I’d change my mind later down the road or that I was “still young” etc. I wish I could pinpoint when exactly I learned that there were other childfree people out there. Either way, I’m glad I did.
There was actually a point in time with my last long term ex where I had to attend his brother’s wife’s baby shower. Part way through, I sent him a text, every bit serious, “This makes me want my uterus removed.” His dad thought it particularly hilarious and I’m sure he had a chuckle soon, but even still, I think the ex thought he could one day change my mind. There was another situation after his nephew was born where he wanted me to hold the kid. I flat out refused because I didn’t want to “break it.” I didn’t think it was a big deal, but it apparently upset him because, “it might be the only time I get to see you hold something so small…” Meh, not good enough for me. I was already an additional mother figure for his other two kids, that was plenty.
After being a “step mom” for four years and then charting off to new waters in my own boat, I finally decided that 100% kid-free is how I wanted to live. I started dreaming of the day I could get fixed so I’d NEVER have to worry about being “oopsed” (guys will do that too!). And it was natural that I could make my own choices about whether or not to get involved with a man that already had kids, which just wasn’t going to happen again.
Well. That day came 🙂
April 6, 2012, one of my good friends carried me into the surgery center at around 10:15AM in preparation for my 11:30AM procedure. After registering, I only had to wait perhaps another 20 minutes before they called me into the back to pee in a cup, get weighed, and go over some other details about the surgery and what would happen.
She explained the basics, had me sign a few more papers, and then dropped the bomb on me about the bleeding. They don’t tell you that before you go. I mean, it makes sense that with them poking around there, you’ll bleed…but it was something I’d have preferred to be a little more prepared for. So, if you’re going in for your tubal soon, get some f*cking pads. Bastards.
Anyway, she handed me a bag and told me to throw my clothes in it after getting the gown on and then to put that and my other personal belongings in the cubby space under the hospital bed. While I was doing that, she wandered off to go get some warm blankets. That was pretty neat actually, being covered in warm blankets. But, maybe find a way to do that at home yourself. I don’t really recommend getting surgery done for the experience 😉
After that, the anesthesiologist came in to get my IV started. For general chit chat, he asked, “So, not having anymore kids huh?” “No sir!” I replied. And then…he says, “how many ya got?” Me, chipper as ever, “None!” Poor guy wasn’t expecting that and there was a brief pause before I added, “I’ve got dogs.” I think he was a bit thankful that there was something else to deviate with the conversation since it didn’t take on the path I’m sure he’s used to. He handled it well all things considered and didn’t question me about it.
Once he gets the IV started, my gyn comes in and briefs over a few more things with me about what they’ll be doing, which realistically, I can’t tell you what she was talking about. I just…don’t remember. I must have closed my eyes after that though and was out.
The next thing I know is that I’m waking up and I see my friend in the room with me along with the nurse. So I immediately look down at my belly and see blood. My drugged up response was a rather matter of fact, “Oh, there’s blood.” So the nurse grabbed stuff for a bandage and covered up my incision which I barely remember that too. I do, however, remember looking down and seeing that f*cking pad! And then having to get dressed, which I’m pretty sure I flashed my bits to my friend. I remember her saying not to be shy, it’s no big deal. I didn’t want her to see anything, but I damn sure didn’t want to be in the room anymore and wanted to leave. So. Somehow I got my pants on and we left. She decided I was going to her house and at that rate, I wasn’t going to complain about it. I knew I’d be useless at home and my insides felt incredibly twisted and painful!
I actually barely remember the ride back to her place. I don’t remember too much about walking through the lobby to walk through the parking lot to get in the truck. I DO remember though that once we got moving, the sickness washed over me. She found a bag in the truck and got it to me just in time 😉
Back at her house, I rested for a few hours. I was absolutely miserable. I couldn’t stand straight and the pain in my abdomen was…Ugh. Things just felt twisted! As the hours passed, I continued to improve and gain coherency back. Updated Facebook to let my friends know how things were going and took a few pics of the bruising that I finally looked down to see.
The photo above shows things from my point of view, looking down at my belly, the incision in the belly button, covered under the bandage and the bruising traveling downwards from there. It was similar on both sides.
After about 8 hours or so at her place, I finally felt able enough to go home and insisted. She wanted to keep me at her place overnight, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from my dogs that long. Thankfully, she didn’t argue much with me, and home I went.
Later that night, the top of the bandage was loosening, and curiosity plagued me to see what it looked like under there! So, I peeked and took a pic!
Eeep! So freaky to look at now….
The next morning, I also had to take a pic to show just how puffy I was! They apparently inject CO2 in your abdomen to give room to move around and do things so, it made me look pregnant!
Later on in the day after my surgery, about an hour before I showered, I couldn’t stand the bandage anymore. The tape on the bottom of my belly felt particularly painful! So, off it came!
I also have a belly piercing. I was REALLY worried I wasn’t going to be able to get it back in after surgery with the way things were looking. So, after my shower, I HAD to try. I figured if it were painful in any way, I’d leave it alone. Well, needless to say, no pain, and I got my jewelry back in 😉
Next, we’ll just go through the series of photos over the following days to show the intensity of the bruising and how it’s changed.
April 8, 2012
April 9, 2012
April 10, 2012
April 11, 2012
April 12, 2012
And finally, today, April 13, 2012
My friends have been INCREDIBLY supportive with me in this. For the most part though, I did neglect to specifically tell my family members what I was doing. I’m sure they know, but they haven’t said anything to me about it at this point. And that’s fine. This is a decision that *I* made and no amount of questions or “what if” scenarios were going to change my mind.
I don’t regret it at all and despite the pain, I’d do it again. Should I EVER lose my mind and decide I want to be a mom, I’ll adopt. There’s over 7 BILLION people on this planet and COUNTLESS children without parents who are growing up in the foster care system. That would be far more virtuous to me to adopt than to bring another person into the world when so many others are unwanted.
To another childfree day!