Shutting down the baby factory

*Disclaimer - family members hoping for more nieces, nephews, grandchildren and great grandchildren should not read this post as it may cause extreme disappointment.

We have shut down the baby factory. At least that's what a friend of mine called it the day I got my IUD. The baby factory.

Is that really what they call it when you decide to stop reproducing? Shutting down the factory? Like a woman's body is simply a series of mechanisms whose sole purpose is to pump out screaming babe after screaming babe. Pumping her out is not how I would describe delivery... but I digress and Baby Daddy warns me this is getting a little bitter LOL. Factory or not, this body isn't reproducing again. 

Choosing an IUD gives us a five year window to change our mind of course, but we're both pretty happy with our crazy toddler and our daily in-awe-of-everything-she-is-and-will-become moments. Having her in our lives makes everything just a little better. Outside of her throwing herself on the ground and having tantrums like she's already 2 and a half, she's incredibly fun.  

Implanting the device - not. so. much. fun. After three rescheduled appointments to have it put in, I finally made it to the hospital. Terrified. I was scared I'd be one of those rare cases where they puncture a hole in your uterus. And then where would we be? No choice. Ever. See I'm fine with not having more kids. I'm not fine with having the choice taken away from me. Which is one of a few reasons Baby Daddy is not getting the snip. 

The day was full of ups and downs. The first person I saw was a nurse, the same one I made awkward conversation with in the elevator - because that's what I do when I'm nervous, make bad jokes and talk too much. She ended up being lovely, but told me I was supposed to have taken Advil before I arrived. Oops. "Let's give you some then and wait for it to kick in," she suggests. Joy. More waiting. 

Then I get to play 20 questions with a resident. Who is really quite attractive. Why is it that I have to talk about my sordid sexual history with the hot ones? Yes, sordid. Like you weren't 20 once upon a time ;) Then I start thinking about the fact that he is going to be assisting with the procedure and is going to see my intimate details. This fills me with dread, and a little excitement. 

Of course he's the one who inserts the speculum... how do I put it? What's the opposite of gently? Let's just say it's no longer exciting. 

The doctor is amazing though. He has new babies and chats with me about them. The nurse lets me hold her hand. Well, two fingers, there primarily for the purpose of squeezing really hard. 

I'll admit it's a little gross feeling something being threaded through your cervix, but I've had biopsies so I remind myself it's not as bad as that and engage my ujjayi breathing as though I'm in class and I'm simply in the middle of a posture that is a little challenging.

Then it's done. I'm surprised at how disappointed I am. Everyone leaves the room and I cry. I admit to myself that my body cannot handle another kid. I cry because I'll be lucky if my back can stand up to the trials of taking care of the child we do have. I tell myself we have replaced ourselves in an overpopulated world which is running out of resources, but still I cry because our little girl will never have a sibling. And I realize that one of the hardest things I will ever do... is shutting down the baby factory.