June 23rd, 2023

It's a Friday at about 11am and I'm stiting the waiting room at my OB/GYN's office. There's a woman at the check-in desk being told her doctor -my doctor- is overbooked today and she may not be seen since she was more than fifteen minutes late. I feel bad for her, but I'm also thankful it wasn't me getting that speech. She rebooks her appointment for a couple of weeks from now and as she steps out from behind the counter I see her vouminous belly peeking over her jogging pants. She goes straight for the bathroom as I try to look anywhere else, feeling a twinge of guilt as I think to myself that she probably needed this appointment more than I did. I'm not here because I'm pregnant, I'm here to get my birth control renewed. 

Last night we had the talk again. The talk that we've had hundreds of times before. The one where we sketch out a rough draft of a little minature version of ourselves and then we crumple it up and toss it in the waste basket. Waste of time. Waste of money. Waste of youth. Ok, that's a harsh way of putting it, but when you break down the peices that's what, "we really can't afford it right now" or "it sounds nice, but it would be nice to travel more" really means. We're making a concious decision to keep putting it off, and every year that ticks by I may not feel my womb quiver, but I know that my time is running short. That classic "the clock is ticking" analogy feels much more real on the other side of thirty-five. 

I'm sitting there thinking about what to say to the doctor when I get called back. In pre-visit questionnaire I just said, "removal of birth control implant". It was time, I'd had it for three years already, the maximum efficacy time that I was warned about back in 2020 when I had it placed- just after I had been laid off. Recently we have been talking about whether I should have it replaced or go on another more "controllable" form of birth control, or potentially none at all. In truth I didn't know until the evening prior what I was going to do after the implant was removed, but now I did, our conversations had made it clear. I was going to asking for another three year implant today. I couldn't help but feel a little alone as I stared at a lone Cheerio on the waiting room floor. The child that left it there was long gone, in fact, I hadn't seen any children there that morning at all. I wondered what it was like to carry a baggy of Cheerios to the doctor? I wondered if I would ever know.

Just a loney Cheerio

In reality, I have had a hand in raising many children- my step-children included. I love them just as if I had given birth to them and I know that a piece me of will be left behind in them even if it's not a biological piece. There's a part of me that wants to be selfish though, that wants a child that I don't have to share the role of mom for, one that I can (along with my husband) make all the decisions for without the consideration of another. I want full responsibility. Sometimes I feel cheated... but that's much too complicated to go into today and there's a part of me that fears I wouldn't explain those complicated feelings well enough. I'll continue to love and cherish the little family that I have and keep these selfish feelings at bay. 

As the nurse comes to collect me to have my blood pressure and weight checked, I run through the conversation I'm expecting to have with my doctor again and again in my head. It doesn't take long and all the preparation I made feels futile as the words so carefully curated evaporate from my mind when the doctor asks me to tell her why I'm there today. She's young, cute and extremely nice- a perfect fit for bringing babies into the world. I tell her that I want my implant replaced since it's been 3 years and we still aren't ready to have kids yet, but then she tells me there's no need because since I had it placed they've actually updated the guidance to 5 years...

I can't help but laugh internally about this situation because now I'm here sitting in this office having a conversation that could have been put off for another 2 years. I decide to make the most of the situation and ask some questions about pregnancy after 35 and she tells me not to worry that "on the coasts" the average woman doesn't have her first child until her late 30's and that for most pregnancy is uneventful unless they have certain comobidites like hypertension or diabetes. This is mildly reassuring, but the part of me that wonders if I can keep up with a child and teen into my 50's isn't so sure.

I leave the office no worse for wear thinking to myself that at minimum I've bought myself 2 more years of "freedom"... or if I hit an early menopause, maybe the rest of my life. Only time can tell.