In my mid-20s, it was nearly impossible to find a doctor willing to perform a tubal ligation on me.
Growing up, I wanted kids. I wanted five of them, a boy, then twin boys, a girl, and a boy.
Nat would be a baseball star; Max and Holden, an artist and a musician, respectively; Scarlett, a ballerina/soccer player/actress; and little Kostos, the quirky genius.
They would all perform above average in school and be extremely well-behaved, all would have excellent taste in music, and my very Charming and Handsome husband and I would take them on yearly trips to Exotic and Culturally Important places.
The first time I consciously thought “I don’t want to be a mom” was when I was at the doctor for my yearly Lady Examination at age 23.
We were chatting about my monthly birth control, which I was happy with, and she mentioned some longer term options: IUDs, some sort of arm implant. I said “I don’t think I want kids.”
I realize, after saying it loud that the sentiment was true. I didn’t want to be a mom. I then asked, “What’s the surgery where I can’t have kids anymore, is that a hysterectomy?”
The doctor laughed a little, explained what a hysterectomy is versus a tubal ligation and then said the following to me:
“You’re too young for that. You’ll meet a man and fall in love and want to make a family with him.”
This was my watershed moment.
It had never occurred to me that while it’s easy for women to choose to be mothers, it’s not as easy to choose the opposite.
And so the stubborn, ornery, rebel-without-a-cause finally found a cause: I was going to get my tubes tied — mostly because I didn’t want kids — but also purely to prove that doctor wrong.