Why I Chose Sterilization At 26—And What I Didn’t See Coming

I expected to battle with my doctor the day I asked her to sterilize me. I was 26 years old, never married, had no children, and I hadn’t had sex in years. It felt outrageous to even ask for the procedure, and the websites I frequented at the time had prepared me to be turned down, to be treated like a child who didn’t know my own mind. But I was pleasantly surprised when my doctor asked me only a few questions before saying yes.

“Essure tubal implants are permanent. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather try an IUD?”

“I’m sure.”

A nod, some clicks on her keyboard, and an appointment card for my pre-op labs. She had me on the table in two weeks.

It was an easy choice on that day in 2008. Everything in my life told me that getting pregnant, regardless of marital status, would be a catastrophic mistake, and I intended to make sure it never happened. My parents, my church, the movies, books, and TV I watched my whole life had all made it clear I was doing the best thing for my future. Surely, they couldn’t all have been wrong… right?

A Unified Message: Pregnancy Will Destroy Your Life

In the 1990s (when I was an adolescent), there was a rare moment when the religious right and the left-leaning entertainment industry agreed on a social issue: Having a baby will ruin your life.

My own Catholic church, as well as the Evangelical and Mormon congregations of my friends, dedicated much of their teen programming to dissuading teens and unmarried young people from having sex, emphasizing how a woman’s life would be ruined were she to fall pregnant.

The man who impregnated you would leave you. Or abuse you. Or both.

No other man would want you because… ew. (You may recall rape survivor Elizabeth Smart detailing how her abstinence-only education compared women who had sex with “chewed up gum.”)

Your friends would also leave you, as you’re no fun anymore with that baby.

All your dreams of employment and college would crumble to ash because the baby would take all of your time.

Everything in my life told me that getting pregnant, regardless of marital status, would be a catastrophic mistake, and I intended to make sure it never happened.

These sentiments were bolstered by schools, both in sex ed classes and in the essays and educational videos they assigned. Again, targeted at reducing or eradicating unwed teen pregnancy. I imagine they were well-meaning and genuinely didn’t realize that this programming would not “wear off” when a girl became an adult, or even when she got married.

The media also leaned into the anti-motherhood messaging, completing the picture for me. Feature films like Fifteen and Pregnant emphasized the mistake of teen pregnancy, but there were many more that showed adult, married women being destroyed by having a baby as well. Glossy mags targeted at girls (Teen, Seventeen) extolled the virtues of single, unwed, and childless women and how happy they were, while telling nightmare stories of abusive boyfriends and the horrors of being abandoned after having a baby.

The message was clear and universal. Having a baby will ruin your life. And from what I’ve seen of the modern dating landscape, things haven’t improved. 

If anything, the ability to hear more voices and perspectives through social media may have actually made it harder for young women to know what motherhood would look like for them.

The Pressure of “Motherhood as Identity”

Then and now, being a mother is often portrayed as an all-consuming identity that requires a specific type of woman. Both anti-child types and (for some reason) tradwife influencers want you to know how not up to the job the average woman is.

As a tomboy from the get-go, I never saw myself fitting into that mold. The sanctified status of motherhood seemed reserved for a certain type of girl, and I definitely wasn't her.

Everything I absorbed from media, society, and my church painted motherhood as requiring superhuman abilities. The "good mother" was infinitely patient, naturally nurturing, and completely selfless—qualities I certainly don’t possess. Women were expected to transform overnight into these maternal ideals, their previous identities secondary or entirely erased.

Motherhood was all sacrifice with virtually no joy. "If you're a good wife, a good mother, you won't be so selfish as to think about your own needs." This refrain echoed through women's magazines, TV shows, and casual conversations in real life. The rare mentions of maternal joy were always qualified with exhaustion, stretch marks, and lost careers.

This trope didn't even escape my own mother. No one ever praised my mom because of the games she played with me and my sisters, never asked her how all three of her (very different) girls ended up as good readers and good friends. They praised her for giving up her own job in the Air Force. They praised her for leaving her friends behind to support my dad. She was only ever held up as a good wife or mother for what she gave up, never for who she was.

What's rarely discussed is the psychological impact these messages have on young women. When you're told repeatedly that motherhood requires a personality transplant and that you'll inevitably fail if you don't meet impossible standards, sterilization starts to look like the responsible choice. How could I bring a baby into this world knowing my own ineptitude would end up scarring that child for life?

Today's young women face these same messages, but now they're amplified through social media's perfect-motherhood aesthetic. The pressure to be a certain type of mother—or not be one at all—has only intensified. Instead of getting a more complete picture of modern motherhood, it seems like our picture of reality is getting even more warped.  

Birth Control as Bodily Control 

The distortion of the reality of motherhood became startlingly clear after the Supreme Court reversed Roe v. Wade, sending the legality of abortion back to the states. According to NPR, OBGYNs were flooded with requests from young women for permanent birth control like tubal ligations, an extremely invasive procedure. The out-patient, less invasive tubal implants I was given are no longer on the market. 

Despite this, young women and doctors have become more receptive to sterilization procedures. Most doctors would help a patient who asked for tubal ligation, something that contrasts with what many assume. “Oh, no doctor would perform that surgery on a young woman.” Yes, they would, and yes they are, and with surprisingly few questions asked.

The young women themselves seem to have a slightly different reason for their decision than I did: a greater urgency around reproductive autonomy. The popular narrative was that without Roe v Wade, women would be “forced” to give birth, “forced” to endure the burden of motherhood.

A fate so dire they would happily pay to have a surgeon sever their fallopian tubes.

What can cause fear like that? To put it bluntly, ignorance and a narrow worldview. I know that better than most.

The Reality of Motherhood

It took several years before even the slightest bit of regret set in, and it largely centered around my sister and the addition of my first nephew into the family. My sister had already been married for almost 10 years and we were all delighted to hear their adoption journey had been successful… mostly.

My older sister has a lot in common with me, personality-wise. She had never been the maternal type either. Smart, exacting, introverted. Like me, only better at math. And when I first heard that my nephew would be coming home, I had some worries that my sister would have trouble transitioning to motherhood. Would she be happy? Would my brother-in-law suddenly find fault in her appearance or her performance as a mother? Would she disappear from social life altogether?

She’d had some of those doubts as well. After all, she watched the same shows and went to the same church I did. But the difference is she was no longer listening to the disparate voices of the media, pulling her in every direction. She trusted in my brother-in-law, who had been a good friend for years, and then a good husband for years after that. So they adopted my nephew… and then surprise! She fell pregnant with my second niece, and completed the family with the adoption of my third niece a few years ago.

Watching her over those first years revealed the falsity of the narratives I'd accepted as truth. She didn’t lose herself. My brother-in-law didn’t become a different person either. And “that baby” who was supposed to ruin their lives? He was a full, complete person with his own personality and special way of being from the very beginning. Not some crying, mess-making life-wrecker. 

My decision—based on fear and incomplete information—was irreversible.

What struck me most was witnessing how motherhood hadn't diminished her as I'd been led to believe it would. Instead, she seemed more complex, more capable, navigating challenges that I didn’t know existed. She became a full-time mom, but handled the family finances and taxes with her characteristic efficiency. She didn't abandon her career but renegotiated her relationship with it. The joy she found in motherhood wasn't the saccharine, Hallmark-card variety, obviously. That’s not how we roll in this family. It was a version of motherhood that looked like something I could do.

Maybe even something that I should have done.

But that would never be. The most painful realization wasn't just that I'd been wrong. It was that my decision—based on fear and incomplete information—was irreversible. No changing my mind upon gaining new information. It was forever.

This doesn't mean I regret my sterilization entirely. I married a wonderful man the same year my nephew joined us, and having had a painful divorce and child custody fight in his past, he didn’t want any more children. He was delighted to find me on the dating site. Our life together is great, and it’s not one I would have had if I had expressed a desire for children.

Many women make the choice I did and remain perfectly content. But I wish my decision had been based on a fuller understanding of motherhood's complexities rather than caricatures designed to scare women into avoiding motherhood.

What Women Need to Consider

I’m in no position to tell anyone what to do with their life. But I would hope that all young women understand that who they are right now is not necessarily who they will be in ten years. Or twenty, for that matter. When looking at family planning, especially if permanent, ask yourself if your choice is based on not wanting children, or because you've been convinced motherhood would ruin your life? Question who benefits from the stories you’ve been told all your life and whether they reflect the full spectrum of your experiences—what you’ve seen in your own life.

The great news is there’s no need to make a permanent decision. Contraceptive technology continues to improve, giving women more options that preserve future fertility while providing effective protection before you and your husband are ready to make that change. 

You don’t have to decide right now whether you will ever have children. You only have to decide if you want them right now. 

Leave the future alone and make room for who you’ll become one day. That future you will thank you.