Tubal Ligation Process

I’d heard that getting a tubal before 30 was nearly impossible as no doctor would do it unless there were certain risk factors.  So I decided to wait until after my 30th birthday rather than take on the potentially emotionally draining process of trying to find a doctor to acknowledge my truth and help me have complete autonomy over my body and reproduction.  Just before my birthday this year, the Roe v Wade memo leaked, so I made a call to my GYN.

I’ve had an IUD since I was 19, making my way through two Skylas (3-year expiration), a Paraguard (10-year expiration), and finally my current Mirena (5-7 years expiration). When my second Skyla expired in 2016 I opted for a Paraguard because of a deeply seated fear that reproductive choice in this country would be nonexistent upon the election of a certain orange monster as president.  This ended up to be an entirely reasonable fear, which I’ll address later, but having a Paraguard was fairly miserable.  To this day it frustrates me that the only long-term, non-hormonal method of preventing pregnancy saddles you with a life of long, heavy periods and miserable cramping. Someday I’ll share more about this, but I switched to Mirena after just 3 years of having an IUD that should have lasted me 10. Having a Mirena was *fine* which for female birth control meant moderate acne and weight gain and spotty/irregular periods.  I will rage until the end of time about the bullshit that women have to put up with just to avoid pregnancy.

Finally, in March of this year (2022) I got a new phone and learned the hard way that I had lost three years of period tracking data.  And by the hard way, I mean that I went to check where I was in my cycle to see if it could explain why I was constantly crying, and instead found absolutely nothing.  Cue heaving sobs and panicking. My dependency on technology has always been something I feel iffy about, and I freaked the fuck out realizing that because of this loss, I truly didn’t know what my body was doing hormonally at any given time.  I have taught classes on hormone cycling and intuitive care for your body/mind around your hormones, but I didn’t know what my own body was doing because I had a hormonal IUD.  I would spot one day and bleed three days later and have sore tits or be irritable but never have a period.  I was OVER it.  I wanted to know and deeply understand my body in the ways that I know are possible.  The ways that I teach people to be intuitive about their bodies.  To be able to sit and really listen to what my needs are and where I’m at any given moment. 

So I took the plunge.  I played phone tag (aka I put it off and then when she finally called back it went to voicemail and I didn’t call back for two weeks) because subconsciously it felt so.  Final. Committed.  I scheduled my tubal consult for June 6th and started counting down.  I invited my husband to join me for the appointment, and his reply was that he didn’t feel like it was his place to join for an appointment that was inherently about my own body and choices.  Point one for a life partner that models feminism to the fullest extent, always.

I went to my appointment and my doctor was fucking awesome.  When I first met her in 2019, she knew that I was polyamorous and kinky, and accepted that from the beginning.  She has always been very open and supportive, ordering regular STI tests for me and trusting that I know my body better than anyone (looking at you GPs who make folks come in to test for a yeast infection when JFC WE KNOW WHAT A YEAST INFECTION FEELS LIKE).  I should have expected that because of this, her response to me wanting a tubal ligation would be one of support. Her exact words were “it’s clear that this is an intrinsic decision for you, and one that you’ve put time and energy into planning and thinking about.”  Hearing these words hit me full force, and brought me to tears.  Because she was right.  Even though I had spent so much time questioning my own truth and understanding, hearing her use the word “intrinsic,” to describe this decision made me feel seen, held, and understood.

She also said, “I know that because you’re non-monogamous, a vasectomy doesn’t apply here so I won’t even suggest it as an alternative.”  But she also proceeded to explain that tubal ligations are often performed differently now, making them essentially irreversible.  Rather than “tying” or other methods of just separating the Fallopian tubes into two hales, doctors now prefer to remove the Fallopian tubes completely. This method of complete removal is fairly new, and has been widely adopted as the primary method of tubal ligation as it carries significant benefits in preventing ovarian cancer in women. Ectopic pregnancies are still a potential (very rare) hazard, but your “tubes” won’t come back together anymore, either intentionally or unintentionally.

This is great in theory but fucking terrifying when you’re making a decision that feels entirely permanent.  I had felt so confident in my decision and so READY going into this appointment but was also reassured by the fact that *technically* my tubal would be reversible with an 87% success rate.  This new method of performing the procedure would eliminate that possibility, meaning that I really was permanently opting out of biological children.  I left resolute, but a bit squeamish.  She said her scheduler would call me within the week.

Before the scheduler could call me, Roe vs. Wade was overturned in the United States and I wept. From sadness, rage, and disappointment.  This also absolutely cemented my decision to move forward with this procedure. And when I finally got in touch with someone to get me on the schedule, I knew I was ready.

It’s been two months now, and I’ve continued to talk about this with anybody who will listen - my therapist, best friends, people I’m dating, random women I meet at bars because I’m chatty. Every time it comes up, I’m met with unwavering support for my decision from others, and an internal excitement and calm combination that I’m really not used to. I’m a week away from a life-changing, though ultimately non-invasive and “easy” procedure.  I have no idea what to expect from my body because I haven’t gone under anesthesia in over a decade, nor have I ever been great at accepting that my body is not entirely under my control (lookin’ at you, rolled ankle that has yet to heal because I’m too stubborn to rest). But I know what to expect from my doctors, I’ve made a care plan with my loved ones, and I’m starting to be better at trusting them to show up for me even when I don’t expect it. Most importantly though, I trust myself to know how to ask for what I need and to know what’s best for myself.

I’m looking forward to reporting back, thanks again for reading <3