As a teenager, I was a bit of a handful. In other words, I was a disrespectful brat. We often label such behavior as “wild teenage antics” to excuse our immature choices, knowing that a fully developed brain is still a few years away. Now that I’m approaching forty, I’m not sure I deserve that pass anymore. I certainly won’t tolerate the same nonsense from my own kids when they hit their teenage years, but back in my day, I could have given any punk rocker a run for their money with my level of defiance.
On my eighteenth birthday, my mother gifted me $80 for a new pair of shoes. Naturally, I did what any rebellious teen would: I bought a pair of sneakers for $40 and pocketed the rest for my first piercing. Ah, the 90s—when everyone sported nose rings and eyebrow piercings. But I was determined to stand out. You might think I went for a nipple ring, but I had something even more audacious in mind: I decided to pierce my nether regions. At eighteen, the future seemed so far away.
For the next decade, I sported that piercing, even after I met my husband and started a more settled life. I thought about removing it several times, but it was a horseshoe-shaped ring that required a professional to take out. Time was scarce, and I had no intentions of dropping my pants in front of a stranger. I was a grown-up now, after all.
Then came pregnancy. My OB-GYN, who had been my doctor for years, was already aware of my “jewelry.” “No worries,” she said, assuring me that it wouldn’t interfere with delivery. After a smooth pregnancy, I was checked in for labor induction.
We arrived at the hospital on a Thursday night. After a series of medications and two days of labor—yes, two long days—I had only dilated three centimeters. My parents came to visit, and just as they were attempting to lighten the mood, alarms started blaring. The medical staff rushed in with an oxygen mask, and I heard the words “baby distress” and “C-section.” I was terrified but focused on one thing: I wanted my baby to arrive safely.
Then the nurses approached me about my “jewelry.” My heart sank. I had never disclosed this to my mother, and now my husband was ushering my parents out while I faced the nurses. “What’s the issue?” I asked, still in disbelief that this was happening. The nurse with a no-nonsense attitude explained that while it wasn’t a problem for natural delivery, it posed significant risks during surgery. If they had to use paddles to revive me, my piercing could cause serious burns.
Another nurse chimed in, “We might have to cut it off.” Cut it off? Seriously?
As I lay there, prepped for a C-section, I imagined the worst-case scenarios as nurses entered with a massive bolt cutter. My teenage self was shaking my head in disbelief. Thankfully, after several attempts, they realized that surgical-grade steel wasn’t going to budge. Instead, they decided to tape over the piercing and hoped for the best. Fortunately, I didn’t need any resuscitation, and the surgery was less painful than I had anticipated.
My baby was born—perfect and healthy. All the chaos faded into the background.
Fast forward to my next pregnancy. At nearly eight months along, I visited my new OB-GYN, an upbeat fellow named Alex. As he examined me, he exclaimed, “You still haven’t taken out that piercing?” Ugh. I dreaded the thought of returning to a piercing shop in my current condition. “Can’t I just tape it again?” I asked, but Alex wasn’t having it. “That’s not how I do a C-section! Get it removed.”
So, off I went to a local piercing and tattoo shop, where a sign warned against entering if you were pregnant, drunk, or rude. I swallowed my pride and waddled inside. A pin-up-style woman greeted me, and I nervously explained my predicament.
She led me to a sanitized area, cleaned the piercing, and popped it out without a hitch. I kept the piercing as a reminder of how far I’d come from being a reckless teen. My mom still has no idea about my youthful indiscretion, and honestly, why should I tell her now that I’m a grown woman with kids of my own?
Conclusion
In summary, my journey from a rebellious teenager to a responsible mother was marked by a rather unconventional experience with a genital piercing. The lessons learned along the way serve as reminders of the choices we make and their lasting effects. For anyone interested in related topics like pregnancy and home insemination, resources like this fertility booster for men can be quite helpful. Additionally, this guide on treating infertility offers valuable insights for those navigating their parenting journeys.
Remember, it’s important to face our past while embracing the future, especially as we strive to be the best parents we can be.
Keyphrase: Piercing and Pregnancy Experience
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