“…because birth control is the last thing you want to worry about.”

(read in an add in a parenting magazine while at the ophthalmologist to discuss my newest medical curiosity, macular sucker, ahem, pucker. That’s a retinal disease, apparently caused by faulty genetics and aging. ‘nough said)

Birth control IS the last thing I worry about. But is that what I wanted? Hell no. I wish I had to. I desperately wish I had to.

I do worry about my period though. It’s getting progressively lighter and lighter again. A reasonable guess is that the uterine adhesions have returned. Asherman’s is fucking with my body again. Of all the reproductive shortcomings, I think I have the hardest time with Asherman’s. Why? It was caused by a fucking c-section with uterine rupture and infections.* Nothing fun to begin with. But apparently that’s how life operates: once on the road of sickness, sickness has a tendency to multiply. It’s like the rich get richer and the poor poorer. It seems to be universal law. Quite evident on infertility island. Had I had a nice, uncomplicated vaginal birth, I wouldn’t have to worry about blocked fallopian tubes and thin uterine lining** (not to mention that I could still dream about more than two children, something that the uterine rupture apparently put an end to). Ups, was there a kernel of bitterness surfacing?

I wish I still had to worry about birth control.

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* I consider myself "fortunate" to have got Asherman's from a c-section that gave me my beautiful daughter rather than from any other possible scenario .
* * I understand that vaginal births may carry their own undesirable after-effects, like pain with intercourse. Doesn’t sound like fun either.