Sunday, August 18, 2013

Implanon.

Tomorrow, I have an appointment to have a contraceptive implant inserted under the skin of my arm. For the ludicrous price of $36, I have 3 years of contraception guaranteed ahead of me. While it does what it needs to do, I can basically forget about it. Compared to taking a pill every day, this isn't bad.

Of course, the implant can be removed at any time, rendering me fertile again more or less instantly. While we are in no rush, the doctor did ask when we might want to try for another baby and I guess we had to answer something, as vague and abstract as it might seem right now.

Before actually having a baby, Chris and I were able to discuss this topic in fairly pragmatic terms. A close age gap would let me get back into a fuller career sooner while a bigger age difference might allow us to save a little money in between before starting all over again.

Enter Hugo and the general direction of our discussions is about as predictable as our little boy himself, ranging from "one is more than enough" to "let's move to the country and keep having babies".

I'll never forget the moment when, still in the birthing suite and as I came back to my senses, I could suddenly hear the groans and screams of other labouring women in adjacent rooms. Chris had heard them all along but I hadn't and in that moment, after a quick but intense labour, I thought to myself and out loud that I didn't think I could ever do it again. I sort of knew that I would but I just wasn't sure that I could.

The next most distinctive moment along this particular journey came when not one or two but three friends announced their pregnancies. While I was genuinely excited for them, a little voice inside me yelled: "Noooooo! what have you doooone???!!!!"

By that stage, Hugo was only a couple months old and as happy as I was, I was also more tired than I had ever been. I still found the whole experience deeply overwhelming and the prospect of the months and years ahead of us very daunting. It all seemed like a very very long tunnel which one should only enter when they are absolutely sure of themselves. But of course, can anyone ever be?

And then, somehow things have started to change. My friends' bumps are growing and I find myself feeling sentimental, if not nostalgic of the blessed feeling one gets from carrying and growing a life inside, the constant and private companionship, those first flutters which will soon enough become strong and visible kicks underneath the surface of a perfectly distended belly.

As this nostalgia for pregnancy takes me by surprise from time to time, I am also becoming increasingly aware of how fleeting all of this is. Hugo is five months old now and while I delight in the fact that he does something new every day, I also feel a little pinch in my heart for all the things he has already put in the past. For every thing he does for the very first time, there is something he does for the very last time. How is it even possible to think there was a time when he was even younger than he is now?

And so, as the fog of these early months seems to lift and I can already start to feel a yearning for the very beginning, Chris and I are back to discussing options in pragmatic terms. It is still abstract and distant but the raised little rod under my skin shall be a tangible reminder of decisions to come. 

1 comment:

  1. Some decisions, even far lesser ones, probably call for great thought, lists of pros and cons, budgetary considerations and "tutti quanti," while I find that the life changers are often best made far more simply.

    They come naturally, one feels them or one doesn't, they're in one's gut ... and with grace and serenity, they happen, flowing unencumbered into one's life when and where they belong.

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