My Sterilization Story

There has been a bit of a hubbub about women’s (and sometimes men’s) requests for sterilization to be granted.  Slate has run a series of articles on childfreedom during which the topic emerged, and it has also made this month’s issue of Vogue.  In turn, this seems to have prompted some of the bloggers I follow (and now me) to keep the discussion flowing.

By the time I discovered the word “childfree” and found out that there was an entire online community of people seeking relief from the baby-rabies surrounding them, I had already been sterile for a few years.  My experience – both the decision and the execution – was so easy that it never occurred to me that other women would have to fight to be sterilized.  As I consider my situation, I realize I had several factors going for me (plus a little bit of luck that my small-town doctor was supportive), and I hope that sharing those might assist anyone reading this who is considering a procedure.

Time (and maturity) was on my side.  In my early twenties, I brought up sterilization to my first gynecologist.  At the time, this woman had known me for only about half an hour, and she could see a lack of confidence in my demeanor.  She was very frank that my hesitancy, my age, and her lack of knowing me well made this a non-discussion.  I was not ready to put up a fight, and I really did not mind waiting.

In the meantime, I heard people saying things like, “By the time you are 30*, you know for sure,” and, “Once your friends start having kids, you will want them too.”  When I reached 30, I had observed enough close friends having children to make me even more certain that it wasn’t for me, and I’d had about 15 years to reflect on why I did not want children and what I did want for my life.  I now had a confidence and an ability to articulate myself that a reasonable doctor could not ignore.

*That “magic number” 30 also pops up in some research about which Laura Carroll blogged; in one study, about 20% of women who were sterilized before the age of 30 later regretted the decision, whereas only about 5% of women 30+ expressed regret.

I had “done my homework” and had a plan.  When I finally broached the subject with my nurse practitioner, I was able to explain to her in less than 3 minutes why I should be sterilized.  I explained that I always knew I didn’t want to bear children and played the “30” card so that she knew this decision had been carefully considered for years and that I had been willing to wait for as long as conventional wisdom demanded.  I also shared, with passion and conviction, my commitment to adoption should I ever decide that I wanted to add another person to my family.  She listened intently and agreed that whenever I was ready, she would have her office refer me to an M.D. who could perform the surgery.

I anticipated the doctor’s questions and reactions.  When I met with the M.D., I was again able to tell the story I had shared with my nurse practitioner.  I am sure it also did not hurt that I could tell the M.D. about my advanced degrees, my career, and my marriage too.  I know that some people do not appreciate doctors grilling sterilization candidates, but given that this woman had only just met me, it seemed perfectly reasonable that she would want to hear my story – and my ability to anticipate her concerns and articulate my story meant that she had relatively few questions for me.  Instead, I felt that she did a great deal of listening. At one point she said, “I wish your husband were here so that I could talk to him too.”  My response?  “I’ll bring him in from the waiting room!”  I know this is also anathema to many who feel like the doctor is asking them to obtain their husband’s permission, but I had anticipated that the doctor might be interested in our family dynamic.  Again, she had only just met me.  I see it as responsible of her to be sure that I was doing this without pressure and that my husband knew the risks to me.  In fact, one of the reasons she stated had to do with risk – she would prefer to know that he was at least willing to have a less-invasive vasectomy (this was when Essure was in its infancy and thus not an option in my little town).

Of course, I jumped in to make it clear that this was about me.  If, God forbid, anything ever happened to my husband or, God forbid, I were raped, I wanted to be sure I was taken care of.  Though I did not bring this up to the doctor, I was also influenced by the pressure one of my relatives had faced.  Her now-ex-husband had a vasectomy when they finished having children, so she was left unprotected in a sense.  When she remarried, her childless husband started pushing her to have a baby with him.  However, she had clearly already left that stage of her life behind.  Her children were older, and she did not want to start over with a baby, especially at her age.  Needless to say, things did not end well (though on a positive note, no new lives were destroyed in that tug-of-war).

Lastly, I was able to anticipate a time frame that worked for all of us.  I was uncertain how long it might take to schedule a surgery, so I purposely arranged for a consultation in the spring with the intention of surgery in the summer when I would be off work.  When the M.D. agreed to the surgery, she added, “I want to give you three more months to think about it, so we’ll schedule the surgery for summer.”  I replied, “Perfect!”  Waiting periods may raise the hackles of sterilization advocates, but because I had already built that into my plan, I still felt a sense of… I guess… control, that this was exactly what I wanted and I was not just at the whim of the medical establishment or whatever.

I am very healthy.  Speaking of risk, I had no health factors that might dissuade the doctor.  This made the surgery smooth and successful, and it assisted in a relatively easy recovery.

The only compelling argument I have heard against sterilization is that with the wealth of options available, some of which (i.e., IUD) are more effective than tubal ligation, people should be more resistant to take permanent and potentially dangerous measures.  However, my belief is that it is still up to the patient to decide what risks are most acceptable to her.  The doctor informs; the patient chooses based on that information.

Seven years and counting, and I still celebrate my sterility every day!

Please feel free to share your experiences in the comments or to offer advice to anyone considering a permanent procedure.

So, Am I Really “Childfree” Anyway?

As I navigate the childfree community online, I have found a variety of definitions for being childfree. Some of them are extremely strict -- you cannot call yourself childfree if you have or are even willing to have stepchildren, godchildren, or foster children, or even if you would be willing to take in someone’s children (nieces/nephews, for example) in an emergency. And you must be committed to having an abortion if you were to get pregnant. Some definitions are looser -- stepchildren are OK and godchildren are fine, as long as you don’t actually want to be a parent. And others don’t seem to worry too much about the details; you haven’t borne a child and don’t want to? You’re childfree.

I have spoken several times on the blog about adoption and have occasionally described how I thought I would adopt an older child someday. I have also stated that it seems that God is not asking that of me, at least not right now.

But the reality is that I am open to it. I always have my heart wide open, ready if the right circumstances presented themselves. That seems to be the way God works with me; I think he knows that I can be a little distracted and oblivious, maybe thick-headed when I start to over-analyze things, so for the big stuff, he pretty much drops clear-cut opportunities right in my lap.

A friend told me a story of a woman who opened her home for a few months to a teenager from another country as a humanitarian gesture. During that time, she fell in love with this young person and decided to adopt him. Another friend of mine adopted her first child, a teen, when my friend was in her 50s. One of my favorite stories is that of a couple who mentored a young adult and adopted him when he was in his mid-20s!  I could see any of these things happening to me and my husband.

And I think that one of the appeals of a relationship with a young adult is that I would much rather have a mentoring relationship with a young person than to be a parent. I have neither the stamina, nor the wisdom, nor the patience to be an authority figure or disciplinarian. In addition, when I see what parenthood has done to most of my friends & acquaintances, how most of them have changed for the worse with their sense of entitlement, their self-absorption, their myopia, their descent into traditional gender roles, etc., I don’t want to fall into those traps. I would be loath to have a young person refer to me as “mom.”

So I’m definitely pregnancy-free and baby-and-kid-free, but perhaps I should say I’m comfortably on the fence with respect to teen/young-adult adoption, accepting whichever way God would nudge me. And if I’m only ever nudged in the direction of mentoring, child sponsorship, and supporting the adoptions of others, that’s just fine with me.

Insights on Being Childfree and Christian

My interview with Laura Carroll, author of Families of Two.

Laura and I collaborated on the following piece, which is also available at her website, http://lauracarroll.com/. Here is what Laura had to say...

I recently connected with blogger I.Am.Free at her blog--Childfree Christian: Thoughts on the intersection of Christianity and childfreedom. She has some great thoughts and insights on being childfree and Christian. I hear from Lots of Christians who struggle with this, so I asked if she’d co-post an interview, and I am happy she agreed!

First a few words from I.Am.Free:

I want to thank Laura for inviting me to “co-blog” with her. I have a great deal of respect for her, and I am grateful for her support of people who wish to be true to their faith while living a life without children.

What I have to share is coming from the perspective of a married Christian woman. Unmarried people in the church certainly have their own challenges (such as being single in a pro-marriage environment!), but I do not feel qualified to address those. And I may be wrong about this, but my observation is that unmarried Christians are given a “pass” for not having children (yet). No one in the church seems to have a problem with singles, nuns, Jesus Christ, etc., not having children, but in the church -- and the culture at large -- there is an expectation that marriage leads to babies. As such, much of what I am about to say pertains to married people who have chosen not to have children.

Laura: How did you come to decide you did not want children?

I.Am.Free: I do not know if it was as much a decision as it was a realization. I do not ever recall wanting to have children, but when I was a child I assumed it was just something that happened when a person grew up. However, as I entered my teenage years, I began to dread the possibility of someday having children…the idea of pregnancy and childbirth, the thought of being around babies and small children. But I remember my mother being quite open about how she used the Pill until she was ready to have me, and one day it struck me: if you could use birth control to delay having children, why not keep using it so that you never had to have children at all? This realization brought tremendous relief and clarity to me. I simply knew that I would not have children.

Laura: What factors did you consider that relate to your faith in making this decision?

I.Am.Free: Because I was such an early articulator, I cannot say that my faith had any bearing on my initial decision. At that time, it never crossed my mind that these things might be considered inconsistent or mutually exclusive.

However, as time passed, I discovered that not bearing children might actually be an expression of my faith. The Bible is full of commands and reminders to care for the poor, the suffering, and the orphans. Upon being deeply moved by stories of orphans and adoption, I began to feel as if God were calling me to be a voice for discarded young people, especially the older children who are less adoptable. I felt compelled that IF I were ever to have children, it would be through the adoption of an older child. I also realized that the cares of bearing my own children would only detract from my compassion, my drive, and my financial resources to care for others. I set to work on sponsoring a couple of adolescent girls in other countries, offering financial and moral support for other people’s adoptions, and mentoring young adults through my profession.

Stay tuned for Part II right around the corner~

Having a Child at All Costs

A recent Time magazine article reports on studies that link infertility treatments to autism. Apparently, women who have undergone infertility treatments have much higher rates of children with autism. While one study adjusted for the mother's age and ruled that out as the cause for autism, it is still unclear whether the fertility drugs are to blame, or the infertility itself, or other factors associated with fertility treatments, such as premature birth or multiple births.

And autism is not the only risk. IVF is also linked to birth defects and genetic defects, not to mention the physical and psychological toll that it can take on the mother.

It saddens me that our society idolizes motherhood and the passing on of our own genetic material to the point that we are willing to risk anything and everything to have a child. We are willing to create more children with a much higher risk of developmental disorders and birth defects while 140,000,000+ orphans -- many perfectly healthy -- cry for homes. We are willing to throw away thousands of dollars on this risk while children all over the world starve. We thumb our noses at nature and then react with surprise when nature strikes back.

And while I'm rambling... I wish our culture showed a little more compassion for people struggling with infertility. Instead of sweeping them away in the dogma of "you MUST have a child at all costs!", what if we showed them acceptance and alternatives? Maybe we could stop treating them as if they have no value unless their "disease" is cured, and focus on the other contributions they make to humanity.

I suppose I just don't understand the cult of procreation and the concept of risking it all to create a mini-me...

Childfree Confessions, #6 (pregnancy announcements)

I cannot bring myself to be happy for anyone who announces a pregnancy.

Stereotypically, women are supposed to respond to such an announcement with squeals of delight, hearty congratulations, and girlish giddiness. I just feel a little ill.

Sometimes I try to fake it with a half-smile and an un-heartfelt, “Congratulations,” in which case I feel like a fraud. When I have more time to think about it, I am able to pull together a more honest response such as, “I wish you the best.” With a couple of my closer friends and acquaintances, I have blurted out without thinking, “Well, better you than me!”

There are so many events in which I can share another person’s joy (new house, adopting a pet, getting a job or promotion, etc.) that I have asked myself over and over again, Why must I feel so unhappy when these expectant parents proclaim their news?

I can promise you that it is not envy or jealousy. I have not ever, even for a fraction of a second, wished that I could be the one making the announcement. I have no questions or concerns about my childfree status, nor do I ever desire any part of the lives of my childed friends (in fact, whenever I leave the home of someone who has children, I am overwhelmed with relief and gratitude that I can retreat to my quiet, peaceful, clean home). That is, unless you count the simple feeling of being on the outside. They are being initiated into the parent club, and I will not be joining. They will have their conversations about exploding diapers and sleepless nights, smiling knowingly at other parents while they make comments to me along the lines of, “You can’t understand unless you have kids.”
And so, “I’m becoming a parent” = “I’m better than you now.”

I will admit that some of my ire springs from pure selfishness. When my peers become parents, without fail they stop spending time with me. No more invitations, no more e-mails. They cannot come to my parties because they cannot find a sitter. They cannot come to my house for dinner because they need to go with little Isabella to her friend’s birthday party. They cannot attend event X with me on Saturday because the kids have a soccer game. (And of course, on those rare occasions when they do spend time with me, they remind me that I’m not a part of their club anyway.)
And so, “I’m pregnant” = “It was nice knowing you, but don’t bother contacting me anymore.”

But it is not all about me. Every new pregnancy means the loss of a potential home for a less fortunate child who has already been born. I have expressed before that I am passionate about adoption and about caring for the world’s orphans. As the reality sets in that may never be ready to adopt a young person myself, I grow increasingly weary that people who want children completely close their minds to adoption. Many times I have tried to plant the seed in the mind of a future parent, but my words have always fallen on deaf ears. The lack of compassion and empathy breaks my heart.
And so, “I’ve made a baby” = “Who gives a rip about the orphans suffering in the world? I need someone with my own superior DNA!”

Corinne Maier said, “…every baby born in a developed country is an ecological disaster for the whole planet.” I consider that hyperbole more than anything else, but I do believe that every child born in the U.S. is headed down a road filled with unbridled consumption and waste, the likes of which the orphans in the world could never imagine.
And so, “I’m having a child” = “I and my family are going to become more gluttonous and wasteful than ever before.”

Wait… why should I be happy about a pregnancy announcement?!

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God is this...

…to care for orphans in their distress. (James 1:27, NRSV) Today’s post is a follow-up to my comments about adoption in a previous post. I shared a very personal conviction about adoption that day, but my feelings go far beyond just my own experience. As James says, all Christians are called to care for orphans.

My guess is that at the time James penned those words, caring for orphans in a practical way might have entailed giving alms, maybe even adoption in some cases, but most families probably could not afford to take on another child. As I look at the abundance that many in the world have (and I am especially thinking about Americans since I’m from the U.S.), I think that the practical application of caring for the orphans should go beyond giving a little money to charity and should focus on adoption of the 130 - 140 million orphans in the world (source of that statistic: United Nations). Every time another friend, family member, or acquaintance announces she is pregnant, I can’t help but feel a deep sadness for an orphan who would have done well in that home. I try not to be judgmental because I hate it when people judge me for being childfree, but I begin to wonder if it is morally wrong for a Christian to procreate if it results in that Christian shirking her/his God-given duty to care for the orphans.

A Clear Path to Follow

I do believe I was actually called to not have children, although the reason was not always clear to me (and sometimes still is not). In fact, God decided to lay out a very clear path for my life in many respects.

• When I was 10 years old, I discovered what I would like to study in college.
• When I was 12 years old, I realized what my future career would be.
• At 17 years old, it was so clear which college I should attend that I filled out only one college application and was awarded a full scholarship to that school.
• At 20, God put me in the path of a young woman who introduced me to the study abroad program, and I spent the following fall in England as an exchange student. God used this to re-direct the path I had been on by expanding my view of the world and expanding the scope of my career.
• At 21, God intervened (mostly through that study abroad) in an unhealthy relationship in which I had spent many years. I rededicated my life to God and told him I would be willing to remain single forever if it would suit his purposes. Within a few months, I met my husband-to-be. I held him at arm’s length for quite some time until I could no longer deny that we were supposed to be together.
• As with my undergraduate college, I applied to only one graduate school when I was 22. It was clear where I should go, and God blessed us abundantly during that time.
• As I neared the end of grad school at 25, I applied for about 50 jobs in several states, all the while asking God for clarity about where we should go. The answer was clear: one job offer (and I am still at that job 9 years later).

I could continue the list indefinitely, but I think you get the picture. While my life does have plenty of uncertainty, God has always been faithful in providing direction for my major decisions. So when I felt the absence of any desire to bear children, and when I realized around the age of 15 that I did not have to have children, this seemed as clear a part of God’s path for me as any of the other scenarios I described above. There was no rebellion, no questioning God, no drama, no real decision-making, none of the soul-searching that many other childfree people have to go through. It just WAS what it WAS.

At some point when I was a teenager, I had a glimpse of why God might want me to be childless: adoption. As I watched and listened to stories of orphans, I could hear the still, small voice of God saying to me, “This is what I would have from you.” So I agreed with God, “OK, someday.” However, this is where the path has become uncertain… will someday ever come? I am still open to adoption, particularly of an older child, but the call has become all but silent. In the meantime, I sponsor a couple of children through World Vision, and I support Show Hope. I ask myself if perhaps this is what God wants for me, at least for now. There is one thing about which I am certain: when or if the time for adoption comes, it will be abundantly clear.

[As kind of a post script to this blog… I wrote a more detailed and secular version of my thoughts on adoption for publication on The Childfree Life, called “Childfree, but Passionate for Adoption.” Check it out, and expect to see a few more posts about adoption on my blog in the future.]