But doctorly business? I'm all set with that.
After three years of infertility (read: lots of doctorly vagina business) and seven months of pregnancy, I'm done with the stirrups for a while.
As ridiculous as it seems to consider that I may require contraception, my doctor assured me that I do. Choosing my form of contraception was a long and thoughtful process for me. It was also a celebrated process, because hey infertility - look who's calling the shots now!
After much deliberation, I chose a Mirena IUD. I didn't want something I would have to mess with every day. I didn't want something that would pump my sweet little babies full of synthetic hormones each time I nursed them. I did want something that was close to permanent. I did not want something that actually is permanent.
After many painful fertility treatments, I'm not big on womanly pain. And since my babies did not travel through my cervix on their way into this world, I thought that perhaps having an IUD shoved through there for the purposes of contraception might be a wee bit uncomfortable. My doctor, always the honest one, told me to expect three minutes of pain.
Three minutes is a long time.
She told me to take some ibuprofen before coming in for the big event. I took her advice and took some Vicodin.
And now the Mirena is in. Three minutes of pain is an accurate analysis. If I were to describe it in more detail, I might use adjectives like "gut wrenching" or "dear lord is it over yet" pain, but I won't. Because maybe some of you are considering a Mirena.
For me, the three minutes were worth it. Barring anything unexpected (like that ever happens!), my vagina is now closed for all non-routine doctorly business for the next five years. And I kinda like to think that I'm symbolically saying, "infertility? What? Who? Me? No, no. I have twin babies. I require contraception. It's in my uterus right now, in fact. All snug and warm. Keeping the nasty infertility away." And so it is.