This morning my husband had a vasectomy.
He’s recovering fine, in fact, the procedure was easier than a trip to the dentist he told me. He will have a few days to recover (no lifting, some soreness is to be expected of course), but it seems to have gone well.
We are happy with the decision, it was made together, we felt it was time, we weighed out all birth control options and this clearly won. Still, the entire thing is leaving me with a lot of feelings, even though as he walked into the appointment it was rather routine, unceremonious and I felt calm.
This means the end of a chapter. We have consciously decided not to expand our family. Getting pregnant was something we really wanted, something that didn’t come easily the first time. It was a privilege that makes the process of choosing to ensure it doesn’t happen again almost seem counter-intuitive. This doesn’t change that I am happy with the decision, it just means I recognize it wasn’t an easy one.
The fact is, this decision was made over 2 years ago. We had the vasectomy referral for many months (he got one after my daughter was a year, but we held on to it to be sure). We already had the conversation about him making an appointment. Maybe when our daughter turned 2, we thought. Soon, but let’s be sure.
But then, life has it’s way of changing your path, setting a new course. We sat in the oncologist’s office after Andy’s surgery for testicular cancer and we were told that the surgery wasn’t enough, that the disease had spread to his lungs and chemotherapy would have to start almost right away.
The oncologist asked us if we had children. How old they were, and whether or not we though we would be having more. We were told that chemotherapy might kill our chances of conceiving naturally and if we wanted to have more children we should bank his sperm quickly, before chemo.
We sat in that office, something out of our control steering us into an immediate decision, and I began to feel like the decision had been made. And in that office, at that moment, I cried.
I soon realized that I wasn’t crying because I wanted more children, I was crying because I wanted the choice to come naturally. In our own time. In the days that followed, feeling blessed with what we had already been given, we decided not to freeze any sperm. That our family was complete and that eventually, once out of the woods of cancer treatment and with a positive health diagnosis, we would revisit the vasectomy referral.
Fast forward over 2 years and here we are. Confident in our decision, I still have many feelings about it. As my children enter different stages I am thrilled to be on this parenting journey. But I will always miss being pregnant. Holding a newborn. Nursing my babies. Even though we aren’t going to have more children, it doesn’t mean I won’t always look back fondly on what has already passed.
So this chapter ends and we turn the page on something new. The four of us have a journey to continue and I am looking forward to what comes next. I am in a happy place, a new stage of parenting and marriage that excites me and that I welcome. But I can’t help but feel this moment is huge.
End of Chapter.
I can’t see myself making this decision just yet. Seems too early! It’s very courageous of you to write openly about this though, thank you for sharing. It’s great to hear about all the options and how people are living them. And isn’t there a saying that goes “an end is always a new beginning”
I’m in a similar situation. I had my IUD removed in October due to hormone issues and decided to not start any other contraceptive like a pill to let my body clean out naturally.
I just started on the pill again so when the husband and I take our cruise we don’t have to always be worrying about finding a condom (it’s supposed to be a vacation, right?? ;)) But now, with the annoyance of remembering to take the pill every day, I’m kind of wondering if that talk isn’t overdue…
plus, my husband told me I was “glowing” lately. He has me freaked I MIGHT be pregnant. I really don’t think so but I still have to wait another week or so before I can check.
It’s this fear that really has me thinking that it is time for him to take some permanent steps.
It is 100% the best birth control option – I just had to look pass the emotions that came flooding in. But, hooray birth control, right? 😉
Oh I know the “counter intuitive” feeling well. We tried for 6 years to conceive our son (his younger sister was a surprise, oddly enough). After battling infertility for so long, the idea of doing something permanent to prevent any possible pregnancy seemed so strange. But so right.
I’m glad your husband’s health was restored and that he’s healing well from the procedure. My husband was not so fortunate, having somehow seen a butcher rather than a skilled urologist, it seems. Recovery was a long, bumpy road. Blessings on this new chapter in your lives.
Thank you, we are at a happy place.
I struggle with this all the time. Are we done? Are we not? Most days the answer is yes…I think. But then a day comes along and I know that I’ll never be fully, completely done regardless of circumstances. I think when the inner mom is awakened, she never goes to sleep.
But, hopefully we’ll be blessed with newborns again someday – at least 20-25 years from now. 😉
The best I can figure is that I will always miss when my *two* were babies. But we do feel done. But last week I was a wreck!
I kept 10 years of baby, toddler and big kid clothes because I wasn’t ready to close the door on more kids.
Bravo to you and hubs for making the decision together.
It was a good decision for us, but wow, so much harder than I expected *after*. The day of it was, ok – in, out, barely chatting about it. no regret. Then. OMG. This is FOR REAL. so strange
We made the same decision many many years ago, and there are times where I see a baby and miss that stage but I am very quickly reminded of everything that us get to that decision and I know that I am content. I keep holding out hope that another close friend or my brother might have a baby so that I can hold theirs!
It’s that I miss the stage, and I know that. And I am beyond happy with where we are at now, but holy cow, I felt SO much the first week after…
Gah! I can totally relate to your next-to-last paragraph. As much as I would love to have a third, I would much rather relive the experiences with my first two.
That’s exactly it. Why does time have to go by so quickly?