I Was Denied Birth Control
By: Rachael Hope
Tags: Womens Health, Women, Feminism, Health, Womens Rights

I Was Denied Birth Control

My healthcare provider prioritized a maybe-baby over my bodily autonomy.

Photo by rawpixel.com from Pexels

Last summer, my medical practitioner refused to re-insert an IUD on the grounds that I might be pregnant soon. If that sentence didn’t make sense to you, you’re not alone. It didn’t make sense to me either.

I went in on a Tuesday afternoon and had my perfectly good Paraguard (copper) IUD taken out and a Mirena (hormonal/plastic) IUD put in. I’d had the Paraguard for 4 years and loved it, but because of my PCOS and recent potentially hormone/peri-menopause related symptoms, the nurse suggested swapping.

Three days later, I got out of bed to pee, and when I wiped there it was. My new IUD had slipped out of my uterus without a pinch or poke. If I hadn’t glanced at the toilet paper, I would likely have flushed it without ever knowing it was gone. Perhaps it had been placed incorrectly, or my body had rejected it, but either way I was suddenly without my care-free birth control.

I called right away and talked to the advice nurse. They had an opening that morning, but I wasn’t available so I scheduled for the following Monday after work. I wasn’t given any special instructions. They also didn’t advise me what to do with the expelled IUD, which lived on my bathroom counter for the next couple of weeks. It was now a $500 piece of garbage, but it felt strange to just throw it away.

I left work early the next Monday and drove across town to my appointment. When I checked in, they asked me to give a urine sample.

“I literally just had my IUD fall out Friday,” I answered, “I can’t be pregnant.”

She nodded, and I figured that was the end of it. The nurse I spoke with on Friday had given no instructions about not going about my life as normal over the weekend or refraining from sexual activity.

“Have you had sex since Friday?” The question was asked casually as the nurse put away her blood pressure cuff.

“Yes,” I replied, “on Saturday.”

“Did you used a condom?”

“No…” I replied, reluctantly. It had been so long since I’d used one with my long term partner that I didn’t even consider it. Besides, I was getting my IUD re-placed in less than two days, so I thought I’d be covered.

“We’re going to need a urine sample,” she insisted.

“I don’t understand,” I told her uneasily. “A urine sample won’t tell you anything. You can’t detect anything on a pregnancy text from sex that happened 2 days ago.”

The next answer was a forced smile, and a reply that she would send the Nurse Practitioner in to talk to me.

What happened next floored me. The NP came in and told me she wouldn’t be able to insert the IUD today, because I might be pregnant. My mind started spinning… pregnant two days after sex?

“I can’t insert the IUD because it would terminate the pregnancy.”

I was dumbfounded. Surely these medical professionals knew that you can’t be pregnant two days after having sex? Even if an egg had been released and somehow a sperm had reached it, it would be a week before that fertilized egg implanted in the wall of my uterus. I stared at her wordlessly as I tried to untangle what she was saying.

I couldn’t reconcile the idea of being denied the contraception because a baby may come into existence in the future. Didn’t that defeat the whole purpose of having birth control in the first place? I knew that all of the mechanisms by which the Mirena can prevent pregnancy aren’t known, but one that IS known is that it keeps the lining of the uterus thin so an egg can’t implant.

“So, if the IUD was already inserted and next month an egg got fertilized but couldn’t implant, preventing pregnancy, that would be okay. How is this any different?” I asked. I was being told that because I had sex and wanted the IUD placed 2 days later, if the process or the IUD itself prevented implantation, that egg’s inability to implant was being considered a termination rather than a prevented pregnancy.

“I just can’t do it, because it could potentially terminate a pregnancy if you’re pregnant,” she replied.

“So that’s not my decision to make, its just not something you do here?” I could already feel that I was defeated. I wasn’t getting an IUD that day.

Her reply was that it was “complicated” and that it would be “a mess” for me and the office to deal with. She ended by admitting she just wasn’t comfortable putting it in.

I am still unsure what was complicated about it. The logic behind refusing me the procedure seemed inconsistent at best. If I’d said I used a condom, it seems like they would have done it even though condoms fail. I also never figured out how it would be “a mess” to deal with, and I didn’t argue or question her further because it was obviously a waste of both of our time.

The chances of my being pregnant at that appointment were zero. The chances of my uterus containing a fertilized egg were minuscule, based on my medical history and statistics in general. If, by some freakish miracle, that egg implanted and I became pregnant, I would not have continued the pregnancy and that should be my decision.

I tried not to be rude. I asked about permanent sterilization because it seemed like a better option than ever going through this trouble again. I told her it would have been nice if the nurse I had talked to on Friday had mentioned anything about not having sex.

I walked out of the office that day with hot rage and frustration under my skin. Hours later, I was still unsettled and filled with that kind of impotent anger you can’t do much of anything about. The disrespect of my time and the fact that I’d left work early and lost two hours of pay, the fact that I’d have to do it all again in two weeks was irritating. The idea of having to use some other form of birth control for the next two weeks was mildly annoying. Neither of these felt nearly as unsettling as the crawling feeling that my bodily autonomy had been taken away from me.

I live in a very liberal-leaning town, in a country where birth control and abortion are legal, and I was denied birth control because I’d had sex too recently. My struggles pale in comparison to women who aren’t able to get birth control at all. Trying to imagine what it would be like if this minor inconvenience was a life-or-death situation is impossible and heart-wrenching.

Beyond abortion bans are a myriad of other reproductive rights issues. When women get mad about being told what to do with our bodies, it is because we face being stripped of power in this way all the time. This was one instance, one doctor visit, in a lifetime of stolen autonomy.

I ended up not getting the IUD reinserted. I called my insurance company the next morning to confirm it was covered, and had my tubes removed last October, but not before a consultation appointment where the male doctor asked if I was “sure” I didn’t want to have “a bunch more” kids. I am lucky that I had access to that option, I am lucky to have good insurance coverage. I no longer have to worry about whether my rights will be trampled by the idea of a future maybe-baby.