For years I resisted the idea of getting an IUD. Not a UTI (I’ve had about, like, a billion of those), but an IUD: that little twisted piece of copper they shove into your cervix to block the sperm from entering your egg like Bowser preventing Mario from reaching the ultimate prize.
I don’t know why I resisted it. Probably because I was scared. I had so many of my girlfriends tell me these epic horror stories of the pain they endured after the procedure: cramps so debilitating that the earth somehow seemed flat and spinning like Britney Spears’ chair in “Stronger”, constant bleeding for months, period malfunctions and all the feminine hell you can imagine.
Was I really going to risk shoving a foreign metal object into my body all for the “promise” of sex without the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy? No thanks, I’ll stick to my Alesse (that I occasionally forgot to take) and cross my fingers.
The IUD made a trendy comeback in recent years. After years of pills, NuvaRings, patches (ew, who wants to wear a greasy bandaid for a month?), the ever-so-stupid “pull-out method” (my personal favorite in my drug-addled early twenties), the IUD started to seem like the responsible option and science proved it had few side affects and risks (for the majority of us).
Of course, being a woman with a womanly body that ebbs and flows, changes and fluxes, freaks and flounders like a starlet on ‘ludes, the concept of an IUD seemed a little bit too good to be true.
So, the doctor freezes your area with a tiny needle, opens you up and inserts the tiny copper stick and the IUD basically karate chops semen for the next five years without a re-up? You’re all good? For real? As my friend Bronwyn would quote, “Back off War Child. Seriously.”
When I knew I was moving to the US with the vision of doing who and whatever I wanted, I knew I had to invest in an IUD. In Canada, you can get ‘70s-style copper version for about $64 (the brand-name Mirena IUD costs more and contains hormones). I thought, “What the hell?” I’d try.
To prep for an IUD, they tell you to take a mild, over-the-counter painkiller and have someone pick you up “just in case”. But being the chick who always has way too much on her plate, I completely forgot about my appointment, and thus, forgot the pain killer and to secure a ride.
I arrived at the clinic and revealed this information. Once I saw the doctor, I told her to just go for it because dummies feel no pain. She froze my body and began to work. She complimented my cervix (it’s “text book perfect” and I’m pretty proud of that because nothing else about me is) and looked up at me through my open legs in the stirrup.
“This might be painful, deep breath…” she instructed.
Pop. I felt nothing.
After it was done I felt great. Frozen, but great.
The doctor looked up at me, “Now, on a scale from one to 10, how painful was that and how do you feel now?”
I reassessed. I was not high. I was sober. I felt nothing. I felt fine. Better than ever actually.
“Um, a two?” I said.
She looked shocked.
“Really? You sure you don’t want a hot water bottle?” she asked as she escorted me out into the hallway where a group of girls were laying on beds moaning and holding bottles to their lower abdomens.
“No, I got a bus to catch, so…” Easy as pie.
The next few months proved a little weird. My periods got heavy, but not “I’m dying for a Percocet” heavy, just the usual Midol heavy. The thing about an IUD is that if you already suffer from bad period cramps before inserting Bowser, it’s probably going to kill you. You have to be able to take the extra pain. I happened to be a good candidate and despite thinking that my body would reject the thing (like it does with most food, booze, drugs), it did not. It was fine. Here I am, over a year later, not letting any stupid sperm beat the level and save the princess.
I stand behind the IUD. In a country like Canada where these services are available at reasonable prices, I think all women should take control of their bodies and choices. If you do not want a child but want to bang like you could make one, then an IUD is perfect. It’s cost-effective, easy, devoid of hormones that make you go cuckoo and there is literally nothing you need to do until you get it reinserted five years down the road. Hell, there’s even a 10-year one for the truly absent-minded women.
