Ah, the six-week postpartum check-up. What does that mean? It means it’s time to resume intimate relations with my loving partner. Or at least that’s what people say. I mean, I enjoy intimacy, but let’s be real: I’m utterly drained from breastfeeding, dealing with hormonal shifts, and recovering from childbirth. On top of that, I’m in discomfort and feeling a bit resentful of my partner who doesn’t have to go through all this. Did I mention exhausted? I could easily drift off during a high-energy concert, yet I’m supposed to prioritize intimacy over sleep? Oh, and let’s not forget the risk of pregnancy. I’ve been there before, and I’m not eager for a repeat experience. So, here’s how my six-week check-up conversation went:
OB: So, what birth control method are you considering?
ME: Our newborn.
OB: (blank stare)
ME: No, really. He’s always right there, effectively blocking any romantic moments with my husband.
OB: What about when the baby is asleep?
ME: (blank stare)
OB: Have you thought about what to use once he starts sleeping in his own room?
ME: Is there a magical pill that can make me temporarily infertile?
OB: Yes, it’s called the pill.
ME: No way! I can’t remember to take a pill every single day. I’m looking for something that can shut down my reproductive system for a bit.
OB: Yes, that’s the Kaput pill.
ME: Really?
OB: No, not really. How about a vasectomy?
I’m guessing she thinks I should stop having kids altogether.
ME: That’s a bit too permanent. My husband is done, but I’m only about 98% sure, and hey, I’m only 40! Did you see that woman who had a baby at 62? I’m not ready to close that chapter yet.
We discussed my options, and here’s why I believe relying on my baby as a natural birth control method is preferable to any of the following alternatives:
- IUD: I have friends who swear by IUDs, but I quickly learned about their little strings that hang out of the cervix. I just can’t picture myself checking those strings regularly. It sounds like a bad DIY project gone wrong.
- Condoms: The costs add up, and I remember when they were practically free in college. Paying for them feels like I’m buying intimacy, which is ironic since nowadays, I feel like I need to be compensated for intimacy! Plus, using them can be a challenge, especially when they don’t unroll properly. And then there’s the aftermath—no one enjoys dealing with a used condom.
- Female Condoms: Ever heard of anyone using these? Me neither. They’re said to be 95% effective, but honestly, the idea of explaining this method to someone is a deal-breaker. “Yeah, I use a female condom.” No thanks.
- Diaphragm: Don’t these belong in the past? Carrying one around seems awkward—imagine it falling out in a public place!
- Cervical Cap: I had to look this one up. It’s a silicone cup shaped like a sailor’s hat. No way am I putting anything resembling a sailor’s hat inside me!
- The Sponge: The name alone is off-putting. Why would I want my birth control to sound like a cleaning product? Plus, with only an 80% effectiveness rate, it feels like a risky gamble.
This article was originally published on Oct. 22, 2010. For more insights, check out this other blog post here.
In summary, the journey of postpartum birth control can be daunting with numerous options, each with its own quirks and challenges. Ultimately, for now, I think I’ll stick with my unintentional and very effective method—my delightful baby.