Get Out! Get Out! Get Out!

** Warning: This post is chock-full of TMI about hormones and horrific periods.
If this makes you cringe, move along little doggy. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. **

So I’m totally over the IUD-thing. I’ve decided: I’m a Pill girl. Yup. I love the Pill. The Pill? She is my friend. The IUD? She’s a bitch on wheels. OK, she makes me a bitch on wheels. For exactly one week every month. The bitch.

Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch.

Now that I’ve cleared that from my system … let’s recap: I got the IUD because I was breastfeeding and didn’t want to get pregnant again. Being that I got pregnant while on the mini-pill and breastfeeding, I thought I was darn smart for getting the copper, 10-year, hormone-free IUD. Besides, before I went on the Pill in my 20s, I had about 4 periods a year, they were pretty light, and I barely cramped or had acne because of it.

Flash forward: After my cyst removal (and IUD insertion), my milk dried up and I had to put Allie on formula anyway. My whole reason for getting the IUD — not being able to be on the regular Pill — is now moot.

I’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow to discuss taking (or actually taking, I’m not entirely clear on that part) the damn contraption out. Because I’m so very done. Mayhaps I should explain? Yes?

When my doctor put it in, she said, and I quote:

You may experience bad cramping and heavy bleeding the first two months or so. That’s normal. But if this persists for almost six months, you need to call me because that means your body is rejecting the IUD. Meaning that it is trying to FLUSH it out of your body. Again, CALL ME if this is happening and we’ll take it out.

The first two months? Let’s just say I thought I was going to die. Seriously. Outside of the cramps, (which rivaled early labor pains, by the way) I have never, ever, had to buy “ultra super” tampons before. Never even knew they existed. They do. And you know what? I was changing them every 30 minutes – 1 hour. Oh yeah. In addition, I had two gigantic overnight pads strapped to my underwear and I might as well have been wearing diapers. (So sexy, btw) And yet I bled through all of them: The ultra super tampons, the two ginormous overnight pads, my underwear, and through my regular pants. Twice. I was scared to sit anywhere but my kitchen chairs because I was afraid I’d leak on them. I slept on top of a beach towel folded in half.

It was ridiculous. Horrific. “Carrie” had nothing on me.

It was so bad that I could feel when I had to change the tampon, if you know what I mean. No? I could feel the blood squishing around the tampon and gushing onto the pad.

And that’s just the period part. Factor in the aforementioned phenomenal cramps, crazed psychopath it made me, along with the increasingly frustrating acne (really?!) and yeah. Here I am — and although it is marginally better than those first two months, it’s still a freaking roller coaster that I have absolutely no desire to ride anymore.

Here’s how it’s better: This weekend, I had to hand Allie to Jason really quick. As I practically dropped her into his lap, the only thing I could manage was “I’m gushing” as I ran for the bathroom. I vaguely remember his face turning white and his eyebrows going up in disgust/sympathy/why did she tell me that? horror.

Before: By the time I got to him to hand Allie off? There would be blood pooling in my jeans and I would have had to say “Take her so I can go change.”

So yeah. Doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I want this thing out and I want to get back on the Pill instead. I miss her.


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