When I first heard the horror story of how a close family member of mine had had 13 miscarriages due to scar tissue in the fallopian tube caused by slippage of her IUD, I was mortified and immediately ruled out the IUD as an option for myself. I already hated the thought of having to undergo that insertion, having heard how painful it can be and how pain medications and anesthetics are not generally offered alongside it. To my knowledge, that only left me with two remaining options: the pill or the rod. With the pill, I knew that time management would be vital in ensuring that I took the medication at the right time and consistently, even if time zones were to change. The stress of possibly missing a dose and then running the risks of lower protection, along with the incredibly long list of horrid side effects that accompany the pill, practically forced the rod on me as the most viable option.
The rod, or implant, is a small, flexible rod that is inserted into your upper arm. It steadily releases the hormone progestin into your body to prevent pregnancy, and lasts approximately three to five years. It is low maintenance and is currently considered the most effective form of birth control. It seemed as though the rod had the highest protection rate and the least hormonal side effects—and it didn’t require me to remember anything other than that I need to get it replaced every three years.
As a 17-year-old in my first long-term relationship, I knew birth control was the right thing for me, but with my autoimmune disorder flaring up, I didn’t know how the rod would affect my body. I remember my physician telling me something like “one third of patients see reduced menstruation, one third of patients will cease to have a period, and the remaining unlucky third of patients will bleed lightly all of the time.” My thought at the time was that even if I was in that unlucky third group, a light but constant period doesn’t sound worse than becoming pregnant. Of course that is how you think when you assume the script writers of your story wouldn’t possibly place you in that unlucky third group.
I was in fact in that unlucky third group, but I never regretted my choice of birth control because the fear of getting pregnant was stronger than the dread of a never ending cycle. However, I deeply underestimated the drag of expensive menstrual products and the drag of out-of-whack hormones. The side effects of the rod, mixed with the fatigue and inflammation of my autoimmune disorder, led me straight into a depressive episode.
But in hindsight, that experience taught me something much more valuable than what birth control not to use: it taught me the importance of understanding my options and advocating for myself in medical decision-making. Every method of contraception comes with its own risks, benefits, and unknowns, and no single choice works for everyone. I learned that birth control isn’t just a prescription, it’s a conversation. It’s a process of asking questions, weighing priorities, and finding a balance between medical guidance and personal comfort.
When I finally revisited the topic with my doctor, I came prepared with research, questions, and a clearer understanding of my own body and needs. That discussion felt empowering rather than intimidating. It reminded me that the best healthcare decisions are not made for us, but with us.
So while my experience with the rod was difficult, it reshaped the way I approach my health. It showed me that shared decision-making is the key to feeling confident in your care. Birth control is not one-size-fits-all, and the more we talk about our experiences, the more we help others find what fits them.
