She made the decision to have her tubes tied the minute she found out she was pregnant with her second child. She knew she wasn’t going to stop fucking, that’s for sure… and she didn’t much care for the other options for birth control.
The Pill – lots of hormones, weight gain. OK for short term, but not the final solution.
The Diaphragm – Forget it. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a greasy trampoline that she’d have to stick up her twat in the heat of the moment.
Foam – Messy, unreliable, and not very tasty where oral is concerned.
Condoms – Good for her even if they squeaked a bit. They had saved her in the past from acquiring both syphilis and gonorrhea.
She decided on a tubal ligation. She was committed to zero population growth. Her doc tried to talk her out of it. “You’re too young. You might decide to have more children later on.”
He recommended a vasectomy for her partner. She knew what she wanted and besides, as she told the doctor, “I’m not going to stay with him anyway.” The doc took a step back incredulous. “You’re only four months pregnant, I suggest you think about it over the next few months.”
She had just about had it with Creetus being stoned all day, refusing to work… He was given a decent job cleaning up the local historical cemetery, raising fallen head stones, raking up leaves, doing some landscaping… He lasted about three days. She went with her parents to take him lunch one day, but he had not even bothered to show up and was back at his usual haunt – stoned, playing chess, and drinking coffee.
He also refused to take care of the kids or do any house work, while she went to clean houses for other people to make a few extra bucks… and he had moved his brother in. The brother was staying in the garage and using the garden for his piss pot. The whole yard began to reek of urine.
Her frustration was evident in an astronomical 100 pound weight gain. Still she waited patiently through the pregnancy loving the little bump. No matter what she would love this second child even more than she thought possible.
The labor was uneventful, easy really, but the doctor felt the need to use the forceps even before she felt the urge to push so that he poor babe’s head and ear were smashed and deformed against his head in this forced delivery.
She immediately took him into her arms and asked, “What’s wrong with him?” The doctor looked sheepish. The nurses threw him a sideways glance.
“Don’t worry,” the doc said rocking from one foot to the other, “This happens sometimes in forceps delivery… the skull is so soft… It’ll be OK. But that jaw might be a problem. He might have to have surgery on that jaw when he’s a little older.” He explained hurriedly as he prepared to rush out to make another delivery.
“The tubal ligation is scheduled for tomorrow morning. Are you sure you still want to go through with it?”
“Absolutely.” She insisted on keeping the baby with her in her room. She refused all attempts from the nurses to take him. They told her she needed to rest before her surgery, and finally insisted that she take the handful of pills they said the doc had prescribed. She was afraid the medication would taint her milk, but she took them at their behest.
After she fell asleep, the nurses took the baby out and held him and rocked him all night long. He’s always had that effect on women…. Her milk turned orange.
(First published 12/1/11)
