Not even five months after my 18th birthday, I made the decision to investigate birth control. I had just gotten into my first committed relationship, and I decided it was time for me to start taking preliminary measures to make sure I received all the opportunities that life had to offer. I am stubbornly careful with what I choose to put into my body, I am vegan, after all.

So, I refrained from the most popular option- the pill. The potential side effects along with the maintenance that it requires were not appealing to me. So, without ever having a gynecologist appointment before, I dove headfirst into my decision to get an IUD.

The appointment was made a month in advance, so I had plenty of time to look up all the horrible experiences others had endured before it was my turn. I would stay up past the time I could wake up rested in the morning, huddled beneath a blanket, and blinded by my bright phone screen. Paragraphs and paragraphs would fly across my phone, either relaying the traumatizing experience or reporting that it was painless, pleasant even. I just knew that I would be one of the majorities who would be in pain, and as May 3^rd rolled closer, I got increasingly nervous.

The night before I was scheduled, I was a wreck. What if it was so bad that I had to get it removed, or if my body rejects it? Questions and assumptions ran circles around my head, crawling onto my pillowcase and whispering the worst in my ear. However, when I woke up in a tangle of sheets, put on my clothes and shoes, and stepped into the truck, I was oddly calm. Whatever was going to happen to me was going to happen, and I am not the first nor the last to have this done, so there is no need to be afraid. Endless nights of stress and anxiety must have boiled away under the heat of the inevitable. This was my decision; it was time to own up to it.

Leading up to sitting in my designated room in nothing but a white sheet from the waist down, moments in the lobby and getting my weight and blood pressure taken were all a blur as I was on autopilot. My mother was in the room with me, and although some may think that is awkward, I was grateful she was there with me just in case anything was to go wrong and for the support after the procedure was done. The doctor came in with an air of confidence and a straightforward personality which was endearing as well as quirky, so I focused on her words instead of what she was about to do.

She explained the several types of IUDs that I could choose, and before I let my answer fully escape my lips, she left the room to prepare. The anticipation of waiting made time slow down and I became aware of every uncomfortable feeling I had- the crinkle of the sanitary paper under me, the scratchy white sheet against my knees, the bright white lights that were headache inducing.

It reminded me of being sick as a child, not the fake kind where you try to get out of school for the day, when I was truly sick, and not even ice cream could perk me up. I would awkwardly look at my mother to answer the doctor’s questions about how I was feeling, only this time I had to do the talking, and there wouldn’t be any treat after. The doctor came back in after a while, and she immediately began to work.

I barely had time to think as her quick hands performed, and before I knew what I felt or how I was doing, a quick sharp pain pierced me from beneath my belly button, down into my body. To put it frankly, it was the worst cramp I had ever felt, and I could not help but let a pained sound escape my lips as my stomach tensed up. The cramps were like knives stabbed into my stomach, and whenever the pain started to numb the knives would twist and turn, leaving me immobile and drenched in a cold sweat.

While the clock only lapsed around five minutes in total, every tick lasted what felt like thirty minutes to me. No matter how prepared I thought I was, I had never felt any pain like this before. I had read of women who felt no pain while getting their IUD, and I was cursing at the sky for not letting me be one of them. My doctor was finished soon after, and I was given pain medication and some time to recover, but I could not predict what would happen next.

The corners of my vision were tilting dark and dizzy, and my mind was losing the battle to stay upright while my body started to fall limp. I had thought that was the end of my less than pleasant experience, but soon I fainted. I had felt this feeling before, back in 10^th grade when I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian. I was so excited that the local vet was coming to perform a neuter on a cat that I got anxious thinking about what it would be like if I did that every day, if I could do it and be good enough to make it my career. I was so focused and so nervous while the veterinarian did the demonstration, that it was only after he packed everything away and put the cat safely back into the crate that I had that dizzy feeling. Although I had no idea what was happening, I just knew I had to sit down. I fell to the ground amongst my classmates, and it only took a minute or two to recover.

This faint, however, was not as light. My body experienced shock, and during this spell I would open my eyes and not see a single thing. I was blinded, hot, and I could not move a muscle. When people use the term “passing out,” it is easy to believe that you do something like falling asleep, and I wish that were the case. I was fully conscious, and it took several minutes of icy water on my face before my vision came back and I felt okay enough to stand and go home. My mother related my episode as being as if I had lost my soul for a little bit, and honestly, I would not be surprised if that were true.

Some may believe that my choice was one of losing my womanhood. Without kids, would I ever truly fill my societal role as a young and healthy woman? As I lay there on that cold, medical bed, I could help but think of the irony of my position: reclined back, feet up in stirrups; It was a position of birth. And as I experienced the worst pain I had ever felt, I thought about the pain of womanhood. Kids or not, pain is what makes a woman in its most universal form. Throughout history, women have undergone so many challenges both physically and socially.

There was a time where we could not make choices concerning our body or have the modern technology to execute these experiences, childbirth, safely. The world has come such a way that young women can have a say in what dictates their future and make safe and educated decisions on what they need to be successful. Making a choice, at least for now, to not have children for the sake of my own future is a symbol of womanhood for me. Having the choice over my future was such a pivotal step in my blossoming adulthood.

In the end, I had a few weeks’ worth of crippling cramps and many nights spent cuddling a heating pad. I realize now that this was my first adult decision, and one that will save me years of stress and worry. The process has led me to make more informed decisions and really look at the pros and cons of every situation. I feel confident now more than ever in daily decisions I make in my life, and getting an IUD has made me stronger in every way.