Why I Hate My IUD

I loathe my IUD.

I hate it. I abhor it. I detest this menacing little copper T with weirdly coiled strings that is permanently lodged for the next ten years deep inside of me.

I hate that when I had my IUD inserted, I yelped and squirmed and wriggled around on the table all while apologizing to my OBGYN who was wearing red cowboy boots and telling me that she’s seen it all, and she’s seen worse, and really, would I stop saying sorry and just keep my legs spread.

I hate that immediately after I had my IUD inserted, I vomited from the instantaneous nausea.

I hate that there are rumblings of a coup inside my uterus at all moments of the month. I hate that I can feel everything that’s going on inside of it, now that I have this stupid little copper device transmitting signals to me what feels like every single day. I hate that I can feel each little twinge, every kernel of thought it has; every sigh and hiccup that take place within the confines of my potential future fetus-carrying space I know about, because my lower back and left ovary don’t like it when I go too long without thinking about them.

I hate that for the first month after my IUD moved in, my already squishy lower belly was permanently puffy. I felt like I was walking around with a helium balloon belt stuffed inside of me. I hate that I still get nervous when I have to poop — will I dislodge it from a simple bowel movement?!

I hate that two months into my IUD-having stint, I stuck my index and middle fingers as deep into my — surprisingly spacious — vagina as I could and panicked when I couldn’t find the elusive strings. I hate that when I went to the doctor four days later, still not having found my strings, she rolled her eyes, unwound them from my cervix, and sent me on my way and saying “you’ll know if it moves”.

I hate that as a vocal and enthusiastic menstrual cup user, I’m weirded out by the idea of my cup brushing against my IUD and disrupting the status quo.

I HATE that my period comes every three to three and a half weeks, at its own will, but I’m at the mercy of my fickle uterus all month long, on guard because of its moodiness and constant need for attention. I hate that sometimes my cramps are so bad that I have to curl up into a knee-hugging ball on the ground until they pass. I hate that now, instead of just having the regular chunky substantive period blood that is distinctly different from the standard “I cut my finger” blood, I also have that normal blood for two extra days, just as a reminder of who’s boss around these parts.

What I don’t hate about my IUD is that I don’t have to worry about forgetting to take a pill every day. I don’t have inexplicably severe mood swings from a pill whose side-effects I don’t 100% understand. In my fragile post-eating disorder state, I don’t have to worry about potential weight gain. As someone in a monogamous, long-term relationship, I don’t have to fret about being sure I always have a barrier method of protection around me. I don’t have to blame my desire to not have a baby at this moment in my life for my lack of libido (something I did have to deal with while on the pill).

What I really don’t hate about my IUD is that I have the opportunity to have one. As much as all of these side-effects and symptoms may aggravate me, thank golly for Midol and heating pads, because they make the pain manageable. And any apprehensions about its being lodged in my cervix can easily be appeased with a quick trip to the doctor, if it turns out to be more than a momentary concern.

After years of being on one pill that wasn’t right and then trying another that made me grouchy and miserable, after deciding I’m too squeamish and newly uncertain about hormones for an implant, and determining I’m too-UTI prone for regular diaphragm use, I am so very happy that there is an option out there for persnickety me that permits me to spontaneously and unworriedly have SEX when I want (of course still being careful about STI/STDs).

I’ve had my IUD for about six months now, and while the minor irregularity of my menstrual rhythm continues, the severity of my cramps and intense gushing-ness of my flow are both lessening. Slowly. According to my doctor and the Internet, I can expect it to be somewhat normal again in around two to five years. A very minimal price to pay, I think, considering I don’t have to think about birth control for up to nine and a half more years, if I don’t want to.

So, actually, I do love my IUD and the freedom it grants me. But if you catch me on days 21–26/27/28 of my cycle, you’ll get another version of the story.

Meredith Alongi’s work has also appeared in xoJane and The Billfold. A graduate of Tulane University, she currently lives and writes in Berlin.