This is a long-form, story-style recount of my personal experience getting a surgical IUD removed. If you’re after the ins, outs, and everything in between—this one’s for you.
I had tried this before, I spent the money, and I went to the gynaecologist’s office, but they couldn’t find the strings to remove my Mirena, so here I was trying a surgical IUD removal. Read about that here if you are planning to go in office – it is important to know your options regarding pain management advocation.
Although you can easily remove your IUD with your GP. However, mine is rough and ‘rub some dirt on it’ fashioned, and I didn’t want that with my history.
I have endometriosis, which means that I have had a lot of doctors, nurses, gynaecologists and surgeons down there who have filled me with a particular brand of trauma. It has taken me years to be able to go to a GP without severe anxiety from years of being gaslit by them.
I finally found a good gynaecologist. Going private is expensive, and even with private health insurance, a complete rip-off, but I am grateful for it.
Anyway… I have found a kind spoken, gentle gynaecologist whose middle name is consent, like it’s almost unnerving the amount of control she allows you to feel because it is so foreign.
I had gone to get my Mirena removed in her office with the green whistle for pain relief. Still, my cervix ate the strings, and she informed me I would have to go for a surgical IUD removal. She explained that I would be put under, and they would remove it by opening my cervix and gently pulling it out with instruments.
More money, a wait time, and greater potential for mishaps that might cause more pain.
Super.
But I am working on being this better version of me. Less negative, more trusting. So, despite feeling like right then was the perfect time, with time off work for my hormones to regulate, I accepted that maybe a surgical IUD removal was in its rightful place, and I booked it to be removed the day after my second wedding anniversary – first available, but also cute. Adam (my husband) has wanted a child for about four years, so it seemed like an appropriate anniversary gift.
Now, I assume you are here to find out what happens because Reddit, and Quora are full of scary stories, and even in this feminist world, not enough of us talk about our female bodies as openly as we should. Well, this is my whole surgical IUD removal experience, but feel free to skim over anything that doesn’t relate.
Pre-Op
I presented at the hospital at 7 am. Just a day surgery, but the sterile feeling I’ve had from prior hospital visits was the same. Except this time, everyone kept saying hello. I had never been in a private hospital before, but this was almost as uncanny as my super-consenting surgeon.
I was escorted to my own room. The bed creaked and whirred as Adam played with the controls, turning it into a taco shape and making me laugh as I tried and failed to escape the slippery slope.
I had been fasting since 2 am (which meant 12 pm when I went to bed) the night before. Even water was forbidden, and I was desperately craving tea.
Private Nurse Treatment
I met this nurse who was so bright and bubbly that I was again taken aback.
I have decided that if I were a nurse, I wouldn’t want to be in the public system – they must be so exhausted, run off their feet and time-poor – that they don’t get to be people anymore. Anyway, my nurse was different, so different that I wished I had the money to send her flowers to thank her for her warm treatment of me, and the laughs we shared on an otherwise scary day.
The nurse came in and gave me my robe to change into and a dressing gown, as well as a cup to wee into – presumably a pregnancy test, because it wasn’t put in a sample jar. I was so dehydrated, but I managed.
I came out of the toilet and put on my robe, poised and ready to moon Adam before I tied it up at the back; until the nurse returned mid-hitch. I laughed and explained she had just interrupted my attempts at being playful.
So kind, she offered to leave, but I bashfully just laughed again and said I had ruined the surprise factor now anyway. She laughed too. This nurse had such a lovely energy that I felt so inexplicably able to be myself. She offered to do my robe up, and she tucked me into bed because I had said I was cold with the frigid air-conditioning.
We talked a little with the nurse, I joked with her about how Adam was naughty playing with my bed, and how it was our second wedding anniversary yesterday. She mentioned she was about to have her twentieth and she would have a big party soon! I thought that was so impressive!
“We just need ours by a factor of ten and we’d be there too”. I responded.
Adam laughed as I am really terrible at maths and said, “You did maths!” with surprise! I had answered both quickly and accurately – I was excited too because I didn’t even know I knew what ‘factors’ were until it sprouted out of my mouth.
We then chatted some more about silly things, and she left.
Waiting To Wait
I had been waiting for so long; I needed to go to the toilet again.
“Good luck.” Adam said, “As soon as you go, you know they will come and collect you right?”
Well… he was right. I was just finishing up when I heard a man in the room and Adam saying, “She is just in the toilet.”
I felt rushed washing my hands, like the soap had stuck and wouldn’t come off! I emerged quickly, checked the hall, and the man was standing there waiting. Damn it!
“I’ll just be a minute,” I said to the man, feeling bad for already holding him up.
I went and said goodbye to Adam. I worried no one had told Adam when to return.
I nestled into his pecks, their curve cupping my face, his strong arms wrapped around me in an unusually tight embrace. He didn’t pull away or rush me off. I took the whole minute to just hug him and settle into saying goodbye. I knew nothing bad was going to happen, but just in case, I took that moment and felt safe and settled in his arms. Then I turned and left with the man in the hall.
Waiting
The man directed me down the dodgiest elevator – I joked about how vulnerable it felt, waiting without your phone, without a magazine, without a friend, just waiting alone with nothing but your thoughts and fears. He sort of responded with noise and gestures, but without any words, but it said that yes, it was scary, and yes, it would be vulnerable.
Then he directed me into a waiting room and said that it shouldn’t be more than ten minutes, noticing the magazines on the table he exclaimed, “Ha, there are magazines at least.”
It was a small room, with four chairs, and it wouldn’t have been much bigger than an oversized walk-in pantry or storeroom, but I was so grateful because it was empty, and better than that, they closed the door.
I didn’t need the magazine; this was a tiny room to myself, without anyone to observe me.
Calm Before The Storm
I settled myself in, clasped my hands together on my lap, felt impressively comfortable on this chair, looked at the clock, and contemplated.
I sang the word ‘HU’ in one long, drawn-out breath like ‘Huuuuu’. Loud enough for audible sound, but not so much that if someone walked in, they would be startled.
This is how I connect to my highest purest vibration, to God, the universe, the quantum field, pure love – whatever you want to call it.
I was so grateful for this space to connect to my body, especially.
Telling My Body What To Expect
After another short interval, I felt the need to talk to my body.
When connecting to my body, some of this was made up of audible words, others were just feelings that spoke an idea. I directed my thoughts, but more than my thoughts, I directed my love, my loving vibration at my womb – I told it that it would be having a surgical IUD removal, but that it was to ultimately help it and allow it the space to grow a child.
When I thought of a child, I felt an overwhelming sense of love that was quite unexpected. I continued to deeply feel into what would happen. I wanted my cervix, my womb, my vagina, my labia – I wanted every part of me to know what was happening and that it was safe.
Your Body Stores Trauma
I also told my body that it would be out of control, asleep, but that I knew it stored the trauma of whatever happened to me. I let it know that just because my mind wouldn’t be there to process what happened, as soon as I woke up – I wanted it to speak up, to vocalise its experience in whatever way it needed. I also informed it that I had two full days where it could do whatever it needed to, and I would have the complete space to fully support it.
It was more than positive self-talk, it was true introspection, a complete and reciprocal conversation with the fibres of my being.
Connecting To The Why
After allowing my body the time to assimilate all that was going to happen, I went back to why I was having a surgical IUD removal. The why was to create a beautiful sanctuary for a child to grow. And with that, the love was back; Powerful, deep love – a soul-to-soul connection.
I was visited by what felt like both my little boy and a very powerful man, all at the same time. Soul being ageless, timeless, it does make sense, but it is an unusual experience.
He felt like a great leader, the kind that people would die for – but not in an insane way, but in the way that people do with the greatest love. But then he was also my little boy, so cute, a toddler full of laughter and so much inquisitiveness, such purity and love.
I could tell how much he loved me; it was quite overwhelming.
I spoke with him, again, both with feelings and with words. I said how this was all for him, and at the same time, how I loved him so very much. I thanked him for choosing me, for loving me, for wanting to be born to my family.
He was so powerful; I couldn’t quite understand it.
I felt so much love washing over me; a tear fell from my left eye.
I was grateful for the gift of this visit, to know that I was loved and the depth of my love back for this soul unborn.
The Anaesthetist
I opened one of the magazines and was excited to see a spread about the Met Gala a few years ago when the anaesthetist came in.
He introduced himself. We went over the medical information for the surgical IUD removal, allergies mostly. He explained that because they would usually use opioids and anaesthetics together, he would just double down on the anaesthetics instead. I was grateful that I wasn’t going to be given anything I didn’t absolutely need.
He then excused himself, and I spoke to my gynaecologist, the one who had tried to remove my Mirena in the office but hadn’t been able to because there were no strings to pull.
How The Surgical IUD Removal Works
I asked the gynaecologist if she could explain the surgical IUD removal procedure again because I didn’t fully understand it. She said that they would enter my vagina and open my cervix (still not sure how, but I’d be asleep, so it wasn’t the end of the world not to know). They would then remove the Mirena with a tool she described vaguely, like fancy tongs.
She also acknowledged that, as with all surgeries, there are risks, and one of them is that they could puncture a hole in my uterus.
I jokingly responded, “Yeah, don’t do that, please.”
She was very serious in her response, assuring me that it was quite rare and would only be 1 in 100.
“1 in 100 feels high!” I said, surprised.
She then explained that sometimes it could be such a minor thing that it may only be 3mm, in which case the body would heal itself. She also suggested that the statistics included older women with more fragile wombs and all sorts. I was glad for her explanations.
I asked if anything had happened, would they fix it then and there? She said yes, and I was satisfied.
Finally, a nurse came in and ticked all the boxes with me. I had signed papers with the anaesthetist and gynaecologist, but now she double-checked everything and got my final sign-off.
Then a different nurse walked me into the room and told me that the room would be busy, but that everyone was there for me.
The Surgical IUD Removal
I felt a little overwhelmed.
There were about eight people in the room: my nice nurse from upstairs who joked with me and had brought me blankets, my gynaecologist, the male nurse from earlier, the anaesthetist, and then three more people in the corner. The gynaecologist told me where to sit, making me aware of the hole in the chair. I saw the anaesthetist with what looked like a serious needle situation but quickly looked away.
“Don’t let me see any of those nasty needles, Tim, I’m not that kind of brave.”
“What needles?” he responded with such authority that, although knowing he was joking, the delivery was so convincing I might have believed him otherwise.
“Exactly!” I returned.
My gynaecologist said she just needed to check my positioning, ticked my bum a little through the hole and asked me to wriggle down.
She apologised for the fondling, but I laughed.
The anaesthetist asked me what I did for work, and I explained it as best I could whilst trying to distract myself from the cannula he was placing in my arm.
It hurt, but he was well-practised.
Then it felt cold, and I wasn’t sure if they had already started pushing the sleepy stuff.
I didn’t mind being cut off whilst talking about work to fall asleep, but I would have liked a moment to know it was happening. After such a long build-up, the quickness of being needled and put to sleep was a bit jarring.
I would have appreciated just a minute of: “Once this goes in, I’m going to start pushing your sleeping stuff.”
A nurse above me also put a mask on me with gross, gas. I was still talking about work but paused to ask if they were putting me to sleep now. My gynaecologist confirmed.
“Well, the mask doesn’t have a good seal,” I responded.
If they were doing it, I wanted it done right, but I was a bit frustrated that all this work everyone had done to make me feel in control of my body had come apart in just a matter of thirty seconds because no one said “We are putting you to sleep now” so I had a moment to process.
I understand that they were trying to distract me from the needle, but this small oversight unsettled me. I shifted my mindset as quickly as I could to accept what was happening. My gynaecologist said it didn’t need a perfect seal, so not to worry. So I kept on about whatever I was saying about work, and then I was awake in recovery.
The Recovery Room
I wasn’t sure if I was still in the surgical room when I first awoke; I was a bit disoriented.
I asked if they had called my husband. I didn’t want him to go home only to be told to come straight back. By now, he had probably finished at the gym, but I hoped he hadn’t gone all the way home. The nurse told me that they would call him when I got back up to my room.
I wasn’t desperate to see him—I just didn’t want him pointlessly driving back and forth.
There was another lady in a bed beside me, far enough away to be present but not a presence. Someone said everything had gone well.
I asked for some water—I hadn’t had anything to drink in forever—and whether they had pushed fluids too, because, well, thirsty. The nurse gave me water and confirmed I’d been hydrated. Another nurse gave me Panadol, and I asked for a heat pack because my lower abdomen was sore.
Surgical IUD Removal Pain
I can usually explain what the inner experience of blood coursing through my veins feels like, but trying to explain how the surgical IUD removal pain felt is difficult. It hurt and cramped, but not like a period cramp, not even like the pain you might feel after sex that hit your cervix. Not sharp, not dull, not cramping – just simply pain. It wasn’t bad by any means, but certainly uncomfortable.
A nurse checked for blood on the pad they’d placed between my legs—it was fine. They explained that some bleeding was normal. When I realised the nausea hadn’t come and was told it would’ve hit by now, I felt triumphant.
Other than being tired and a bit groggy, I felt like myself. No vomiting. No mental fog. No inexplicable fatigue. The nurse even commented that I was surprisingly alert given the usual post-op opioid haze.
Private Nurse Returns
Then I heard my amazing nurse from upstairs return. She had fallen down the stairs and had scraped her knee badly. It was red and raised like a graze, and her colleagues were concerned for her. She wanted to get on with the job though.
“I’ve got my 20th wedding anniversary and I’ll be going with banged-up, bruised knees now,” she said.
“Sorry, I just thought of a rude joke,” I blurted out.
“Go on, love them,” she responded.
So I cracked a rude joke about anniversaries and knees—one with a few layers of innuendo I wasn’t sure how she’d interpret—but she laughed and pushed me upstairs.
Rushed Nurses
We entered the rickety lift and I said how, when I had first arrived, I had got in, felt concerned by its age, and wished I had taken the stairs myself. The nice nurse’s colleague laughed and explained how the nice nurse had suggested the stairs because it was healthier. The nice nurse giggled over my shoulder at how silly it was that she had missed a step and fallen. It occurred to me that maybe private nurses are just as rushed, just better at hiding it behind kindness.
Recovery
“And here is your husband waiting for you.”
What? He is here already?
But he hadn’t been called.
I was so excited to see him. So relieved he hadn’t driven home just to turn back again.
Adam had my flask of tea in hand, and before I had even got the table in front of me, he had poured me a tiny cup into the flask lid. I was so grateful! I was so desperate for fluids, but especially tea. It was now 2 pm, and I hadn’t had one since about the same time yesterday.
That is entirely too long without tea!
My nice nurse brought me two sandwiches (one for Adam as he had asked if they had extra, he would gladly take it off their hands), a cup of tea and the worst most gelatinous muffin conceivable (that I also gave to Adam).
My first wee was slow, painful, and pink with blood. I think my bladder had been stressed by the surgery, and was having trouble relaxing again. Still—I’ve had worse wees just from various times in my cycle.
Discharged
About an hour went by, and then I was discharged by my nice nurse. She asked if I had a responsible adult happy to stay with me overnight. I said I had an adult, but from the way he played with the bed earlier, I wasn’t sure if he was responsible. Adam smirked proudly from the chair in response.
I dressed, and before long was walking out the door.
Princess Treatment
The surgical IUD removal had been so much more pleasant than I had expected, and less painful too. Although I was aware they had given me a strong anti-inflammatory, so maybe it would hurt more later.
When I got home, I napped for far too long, turning my alarm off and not even noticing.
Then I settled in on the couch watching TV for an hour before Adam ordered us Indian food, which I ate way too much of and made my stomach uncomfortably full, bloated, and the pressure seemed to exacerbate the already existing pain.
I went to the toilet again and found the walk painful. I got a touch dizzy upon getting up and crossed the room like a hunchback. The thought of straightening my stomach felt unpleasant. But by the time I had returned, I was upright, uncomfortable, but upright.
Pain Returning
As the night went on, I felt a bit sorer. It was like the pressure from overeating at Christmas mixed with gas or bloating that made my stomach feel like a heavy balloon weighing down on a bruise. I had some more Panadol.
The show ended. I couldn’t sleep — maybe because of the nap, maybe the pain — so I finished my book. There was something poetic in it. Everything—TV, book, Mirena—had ended. Something new was coming.
The Next Day
The next day was calm. I was glad I wasn’t at work. I just wanted quiet and to lie down. I needed deep rest and solitude. I could’ve looked after myself if needed — but aside from making tea and microwaving lunch, I did nothing but sit attached to a hot water bottle.
Reflections
And that’s it. That was what it was like to get a surgical IUD removal. I had tried to get it out whilst conscious, which you can read about in my other blog post. I can’t speak to what it would have been like to fully remove it, but after expecting both, I would say if you have the money and the time, the surgical IUD removal is a much more pleasant experience simply because you are asleep.
The aftermath wasn’t too bad in my experience either.
I was expecting more cramping, but maybe being unconscious, your muscles don’t resist and such so it is a lot more comfortable.
I hope this has given you more of an idea of what it can be to have a surgical IUD removal, and also maybe provided some insight into some things you might want to do or ask or say prior to removal to make the process more comfortable.
I know for me, doing so much breathwork, massage, and yoni steaming really helped prepare my body, mind and soul – and the time alone in the waiting room really allowed me to settle into what was about to happen.
If you have had some experiences you would like to share, please let us know below.
The more stories we share, the more empowered we become as we learn from each other.
Thanks for reading, and see you in the next update.
Watch the full experience on YouTube here: