I’m pretty sure that it isn’t okay to post anything about a vasectomy, hence, I have no idea why I’m posting all this. Medical procedures haven’t ever bother me, and I really am not a private kinda person, so I don’t mind talking about nearly anything, but if that is you, and this will bother you, you were warned…
This all goes back to the pregnancy of our fourth baby, little miss Ever. I was sick. Sicker then I was with any of the other pregnancies. My poor husband had to do nearly everything for the first few months, while I lounged endless on the couch trying not to puke. The whole pregnancy was smooth (minus the usual discomfort), a healthy baby, some relief in the middle and no complications whatsoever. I wish I could tell you that I love being pregnant, but I don’t. And all of those things combined, I had “that” feeling. You know, the one that tells you this is the Grande Finale. Our final performance. Ever, of course, must have know that too. She baffled several doctors in my office by staying in despite me being dilated to a “nearly 5” for a whole 2 weeks (Grande Finale = the bigger, the better) And when I finally went into labor, at about 10:40 one night, arrived at the hospital at about 11:40, was forced to sit in a waiting room (while trying to convince several nurses and receptionist that I was about to birth a child on their floor) and then finally was wheeled back and gave birth after 2 pushes – I felt like this was “it”. And the Doctor staying late so he could get a weight/measurement of that “little baby” who was nearly 9 pounds? Well, that might have had something to do with it too.
Fast forward, through all the feedings, changings, first steps, and all those other firsts, and both my husband and I agree, as much as we love raising kids, the pregnancy is not our cup of tea. Maybe it’s just because we love adoption so much, or because we both know how cranky I am when I’m pregnant, maybe both. But we’d tell you we believe it’s what God has for our family.
You can probably imagine the whole decision process for us. I mean “deciding” to never have kids again is a big thing. And when you think of people not being able to have biological children and you know what people would give to be where you are at? We also know plenty of people who have decided to stop and had major regrets later on, and I’ve never had anyone tell me they were sorry that they “had one more” (Within reason of course, I’m not going Duggar on you, although I have nothing against them, that just where we are.) But no matter how we looked at it, we came to the conclusion that we were done biologically producing. But it would just be nice to have some sort of “sign” you know? But there wasn’t anything, and we just had to be sure on our own. For about 2 days…
…And then I went to the doctor, where I was told that I’d need some procedures done that would make having more kids impossible.
How’s that for confirmation? Joel went for it and scheduled himself for all the necessary appointments & meetings! Before the surgery, Joel attended a very informative informational meeting, (Joel actually already knew everything, but you have to go). During the meeting my hubs was texting me some of the info/hilarious statements, which are so inappropriate (and totally not meant to be funny) that I can’t post them. Let’s just say that a room full of men, who think they are about to loose their entire manhood, not just the ability to produce a child, makes for a great SNL-skit-style meeting. One thing the men were assured of was that they would have the best and newest technology available and that it would be 24-48 hours, no problemo, they’d be back to normal.
So the morning of the big day, I packed all the kids in, and headed to drop my hubs at the hospital with the butcher. No, that isn’t a typo, although I wish it was, the Doctor must be the only decrepit guy in the system who still uses the old, less successful & 5-7 day recovery version. Not to mention, he wasn’t the most skillful doctor overall. Oh, and while Joel was in there, I took at the kids, pajamas included, to a local target to walk around. The power went out while in the store and we couldn’t check out! What are the chances?!
My poor husband couldn’t move for a good amount of time, but he had fun thanks to the meds. He told me, “You are so pretty” every 3 minutes. For 3 days straight. It was awesome, except that it wasn’t awesome, and it was actually a little scary that he didn’t remember he’d just said that to me. From day 3-5 he just dealt with the pain, and was still pretty much bed ridden, but he did work from home a good bit (once the meds were done, don’t worry, what if he told his boss, “you are so pretty”?! haha!), got to read some books & watch some movies. Not that it compensates in anyway for what he had to go through, but at least it wasn’t all bad!
So please, remember for your future self, if your husband hasn’t had The Snip-Snip yet, be a good wife and check on the doctor first. Make sure that his Degree from his Medical School graduation in 1917 certifies him for more current procedures. Trust me, it will be good for you husband and yourself. If you hubs already had one, and you’ve got a funny story to tell me, leave it in the comments. I love stuff like that! 😉