TMI Sensitivity or Weak Stomach? Stop Reading Right Now! Seriously.

After my youngest son was born, I decided to get an IUD as birth control. If you're not savvy, it is a tiny device, inserted into the uterus so that implantation (of a fertilized egg) cannot take place. For me, it was the perfect solution for several reasons: it's a one-time deal...no pills to remember, nothing to fool with in the heat of the moment; it is 99.6% effective; it lasts 10 years; there are no hormones involved; it's not permanent. The bad part was that I had to pay out-of-pocket for it, because my insurance company does not cover IUDs. Anyway, it was placed , and I nursed my son for quite a while, so I also didn't have a period for a long time. Then, this month, something was amiss. The date came and went-no period. I had no idea what was about to go through, but I knew what had happened. I knew, just like I knew my father had died. Just like I knew my baby had died. Just like I knew the other four test would be positive. I knew this one would be, too. It was. I stood there, shaking, in the Target bathroom, wondering what in the hell I am going to do with myself, and my other three children. I wonder how many other people do that-purchase a test, and just stop by the store restroom because they cannot possibly wait until they get home.

There started my rollercoaster ride, and it's not over yet. Today, I had the IUD removed laparoscopically. It turns out that it wasn't in my uterus at all...it was between my uterus and my bladder. That means that it probably perforated my uterus and went right through it when it was placed. Meaning, it never was where it belonged. On the ultrasounds, the IUD looked just like a straight line-not the T-shape it should be once it springs open after proper insertion...another hint consistent with perforation. The doctor went in through my belly button as well as another small incision on the left lower side of my belly and retrieved the wayward IUD, a procedure that only took about 15 minutes, I'm told. However, start to finish, I was at the hospital for about six hours. Before I left, they did an ultrasound. We saw the baby, and the heartbeat was fine (as it was Friday). Only time will tell, now. There is an increased risk that I will miscarry because of the surgery. I had to tell my children--they have been worried about my multiple doctor visits, bloodwork trips, and ultrasound appointments, not to mention all the times I threatened them to be quiet while I was on the phone with doctors and nurses. I guess it will be beneficial to them either way-they might as well learn that babies' lives are not in the hands of their parents. We don't always get to bring them home from the hospital in a nice new blanket.

I have talked on several occasions about my desire to have "just one more"...but when I looked at that plus sign on the stick, I nearly died. I realized that I was quite content with life with three. I also realized another thing: while I might look back on my baby days wistfully, I don't want to be pregnant again. It may be due to my recent severe anxiety. It may be due to my age. It may be that I really do have clarity about what I want. This is it. I dare say that I might feel differently if the outcome is poor. I'm known to change my mind like that. When my first baby was stillborn, I immediately wanted another child, despite previously swearing that he would be my only. This time, I honestly think that no matter what, this is our last child.

So, it's kind of exciting, thinking about having another new baby. It will be neat to see my older kids with the baby. The sleepless nights and incessant nursing? Eh. In fact, I'm pretty much dreading it. And I have no idea where we're going to put it. We have a four bedroom house, so they're all full. The rooms are relatively small, so someone is going to be forced to share...and they're probably not going to like it. Good thing we got that minivan, I guess. Then there's the money. Or lack of it. It's already hard enough, living with three. The diapers...my Lord. My youngest is still in them. G joked that if this baby is a girl, she will likely be using the potty before he is. We'll make it, I know we will. It just might be harder than it has been. There are so many what-ifs, so many variables...sometimes it's just hard to keep it all in perspective and recognize it for the immense blessing that it is. Some people would kill for this opportunity. Some people never have this opportunity. When I consider the odds of what happened, combined with the normal odds of achieving pregnancy, it's astounding. It's clear that this baby is a miracle, and it's clear that it was meant to be. You can be as scientific about it as you like; I know that it was meant to be.

So, only time will tell. My problems right now are my anxiety, which I cannot mask pharmaceutically, and my pain, for which I don't care to take a narcotic. Tylenol does little, and has never done much for me. I'm not supposed to be alone with my children for a week...meaning, I'm supposed to take it that easy for a week. Not sure how that's going to happen. I'm trying not to worry about it. I'm trying to take it one step at a time. For now, I'm just thirsty and my throat hurts from the breathing tube.