The routine check

I was kind of looking forward to my first routine pap this year. Not actually excited about it...that would be, uh, weird. What I mean is that it would feel like I'm back to routine. For the last 7 years there was always something else involved---fertility tests, a pregnancy, a miscarriage, a post-partum checkup, etc. and etc. that made the whole appointment that much more anxiety ridden. So this appointment was the first where it was just regular old me doing a regular old routine thing. Until it wasn't. I have been having some irregular spotting here and there, which I felt I should mention. My hormones are, unbelievably, still trying to straighten themselves out even a year and a half later. I assumed this may be the cause of the spotting, or the effect. Whatever. The nurse practitioner was in the office this day, with my regular OB on vacation. She starts looking at my chart and immediately gets on the birth control subject. Apparently my OB made many references to birth control. Ha. She mentions possible causes of spotting, including the possibility of a fibroid being the culprit. The fibroid raised a red flag for me, since I had once lovingly patted my fibroid from my enlarged belly in mistake of Ava's foot. Ah, that ultrasound appointment was entertaining when she pointed out it was my huge fibroid, not a foot. And fast forward to the already crazy emergency c-section, where upon removal of Ava and Julia, my OB says, "I see your fibroid Cara, and it's huge." So yeah, that fibroid. Interesting bit of trivia for the day: a fibroid will continue to grow until menopause. So anyway, the nurse practitioner casually tells me that the doctor would want to do a hysterectomy instead of removing the fibroid if it continues to add problems. Fibroids can be tricky, and since we're done with having babies, according to my chart references to birth control and multiple notes to talk about scheduling a tubal ligation yesterday, then really there's nothing to worry about. Well, she didn't say it that non-chalantly, or with that much flair. That's my interpretation of it. Kind of like, "Hey, you don't need your reproductive organs, you've closed up shop girlfriend. Peace out." She mentioned I may need to schedule a consultation with my OB for further discussion. You think?
OK, people here's the thing. I know, I know--we should be done making babies. Rick is not done, but tells me it's obviously my call. And while the door is shut for now, mostly due to the crazed imps I have as children, and not so much because of my really f'd up reproductive trials and tribulations, I think there's a window cracked open somewhere and I can smell the faint scent of baby powder blowing in every once in awhile. I must admit that taking away my ability to reproduce scares me. Could be carnal female impulse to want all my girlie parts in place until menopause. Could be that I am purely up to prove that I can and will have another baby, and the pregnancy will be awesome, damn it. Whatever my feelings right now, we aren't acting on anything in the short term. I have my hands full. I may have to get Rick a puppy.