On Friday, August 26, I got my tubes tied. This procedure had been a long time coming, as I had wanted to get it done after Jane was born. However, Rick had gotten his vasectomy done during that pregnancy and was adamantly against me getting fixed. He SAID at the time that he didn't see the point in me getting it done if he had gone through all of that. I said that neither of us really need any more children. He said he would be ANGRY if I got it done. So I didn't do it. I knew at the time, and he later admitted to me, that he didn't want me to get my tubes tied because he wanted to "catch" me cheating on him. Funny part is, he didn't CATCH ME, and then HE got me pregnant for a sixth time. The best laid plans, I guess...
Anyway, back to Friday, it was a surreal experience. Initially, when I was referred to this "Family Planning" Medical Center, I felt strongly that it was a "Planned Parenthood" type clinic - namely, abortions. I wondered if I would encounter protesters as I entered. Upon my first visit, the office was very quiet. No protesters, and I was actually the only patient they saw the entire time I was there. Wow. Weird. They said they were scheduling procedures for the next Friday. Otherwise, I would have to wait until the end of September. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Totally worth the rush to make this happen in a week! Start scheduling babysitters, etc. Get a ride to the office. Done. I was ready.
When I showed up on surgery day, there was a little old man protesting at the entrance to the parking lot. He had a large sign and flyers and yelled "I hope you aren't getting an abortion!" as I drove past. I was both fascinated and amused. My amusement lasted a short while, but not long after that.
The office was packed with a lot of quiet, serious faces. When they called me back to get my blood taken, I saw a group of women in "Pre-Op" who were very somber. I'm pretty sure I seemed quite obnoxious with my chatting and joking, but it was extremely awkward. Even the blood-drawer-guy wasn't having it. :-P
My friend Brian had dropped off a little stuffed pair of puppies to be supportive (and super sweet) and the nurses were all very excited and impressed. Although they were quick to point out that they couldn't confirm that I was actually a patient there. Later, he told me how uncomfortable it had been bringing a gift into the abortion clinic. Strange, to say the least, but a ray of happiness in a bleak environment. I don't think they see a lot of joy in that office. I overheard a conversation between nurses about a mother calling regarding her daughter who was coming in for her 3rd abortion in 8 months. Shocking and Devastating. As a "pro-lifer" (with 6 children!) I was obviously out of my element.
I think they scheduled all the tubal procedures around the same time, as the women I waited with were all there to have their tubes tied. And we waited together for a long time. My appointment was at 9:30am, and I finally went in with the doctor at 1:00pm. Apparently, they expect a certain number of "no-shows" when they are scheduling. Today, they had only one... As we waited, we ended up talking a bit about our decision to stop having children. No one ever questions me after I tell them I have 6 kids. No one. One woman had 2 (ages 3 and 1) and the other had 3 (ages 6, 3, and 1). I didn't question their decision either. I will always say that two is plenty.
So, 1pm, meet with the doc, get up in the table, in with the IV, in with the drugs, and I'm passed out. Next I remember, I am waking up (mentally, but not really physically) and I hear what sounds like the voice of my friend who drove me, Pat. So, in a drug induced stupor, I start rambling on and on about how great it is that she is there for me and how important it is and how grateful I am. I opened up my eyes and realize that the woman talking to me is not Pat, and is, instead a very wrinkly little old lady. These words nearly escaped my rambling mouth before I caught myself. "I really want to say something," I heard myself saying, "but it's really rude, so I'm going to stop myself." Yes, I was a barrel of laughs in that recovery room. My throat hurt, I needed to blow my nose. They told me it was because I had thrown up. YUCK. Are you serious??? "I'm so sorry." "It happens." They were all very kind. I was still rambling on and on. How I was way more beat up than I thought I'd be. I saw the two women who had gone before me. "I am slaughtered," I said. But I was losing steam...
As I moved along the (obvious) assembly line in the recovery room, and as I became more and more aware of my surroundings, I began to make some observations. The women who had gone before me all left before me, and I noticed that the women who had gone after me were also leaving before me. I realized that I was the last of my "group" and therefore I was probably the last "tubal" followed by a series of abortions. The abortions seemed to have a quicker recovery (sad.) My gurney was set in a different row than the rest of the beds, so I couldn't see anyone, but I could overhear their conversations. I think everyone was a bit doped up so they were talking freely about the decision they had made. One woman explained that she was 35 and her "baby" was 12. She had a 12 and 16 year old already; it wouldn't be right for her to start over now. Another mentioned that she and her boyfriend would like to have a child in another year, when they were "out on [their] own." I will be honest and say that my heart broke for the children they had let go. I felt that God had blessed them with these babies, these little souls, and they had missed their chance. I admit that I have WAY TOO MANY CHILDREN, but neither of those situations would have been enough for me to give up any of my pregnancies. Even Parker. Especially Parker.
I finally made it into Post-Op, or "dress out" and overheard more conversations as I changed into my clothes. A woman mentioned that "this time" she was 6 1/2 weeks, before it had been 8, and before that was 8 1/2. Oh my goodness, I came face-to-face with the woman (girl, really) who was on her 3rd abortion in 8 months. I bit my tongue. I mentioned only that I was there for a tubal,that I had 6 children. The 35 yo mother of 2 asked "So, you weren't pregnant?" "No, I wasn't, I just got my tubes tied." The 3-time patient asked me if it was harder. "Harder than what? Having a baby? No!" I kind of scoffed at her. "I have never had an abortion, so I wouldn't know how to compare this to that." I was definitely the odd man out in this room. I chose my words as carefully as I could, but really, I tried not to speak.
My incision in my belly button was still bleeding a bit, so I went back into the recovery room to "re-dress" the wound. In the 4 recovery beds, I saw 3 women who were sitting up crying uncontrollably. Devastated, Alone. My heart ached.
"I really commend you," I told those nurses, every chance I got, "I don't know how you do it."
One of the nurses, (the one with the really old face) told me I was a great patient, that I was so pleasant, that it was a pleasure to have someone like me come through there. I'm sure they see a lot of sadness and feel a lot of hopelessness. My ability to smile and have hope got them through this day. That felt good.
I learned so much through this experience. About myself. About the individuality of others. Even about our Heavenly Father's love for us. My faith was strengthened further. Another experience to draw upon. God is great. I am so blessed.
And NO MORE KIDS FOR ME! YAY!
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