For months I have been trying to convince myself that my husband’s pending vasectomy was going to be a good thing. After the birth of our second son I thought I was done with children. The shock and stress caused by my little difficult bundle of crying, unsettled joy by far out-weighed the love I was supposed to feel for him.
However, I got through it and he got better and I got better at working with him. He started to feed well and eventually sleep. I began to relax, and then when he was just 10-months old I feel pregnant with our third. I couldn’t believe it; Mr MF only had to look at me and I was pregnant! I was just getting my life back, my new little man was getting better at sleeping and I could see the light at the end of it all. There was no fucking way I wanted another baby! Two was plenty. And I told anyone who was considering having two to just have one because one was plenty!
Then along came placid baby number three. I remember crying to him in hospital and thanking him for being so gentle with me. He fed well and he slept so well I thought something must be wrong with him. He is a gorgeous baby and I have luxuriated in every second with him. He has weakened my resolve against wanting more babies; just a little bit.
So this week when Mr MF’s surgery date was confirmed, after a six month wait, I didn’t know what to feel or think. He’s full of bravado about it and wants to just get it over with. My body has endured three Caesarean sections and he says it’s the least he can do for our family and our relationship.
While I romanticise about the prospect of another baby, I must be sensible. I am happy with our healthy little family; I know I could not physically go through growing another baby, plus I am getting older and at more risk of complications not only because of the Caesareans.
I want us to raise our children, not just produce more of them. So I know that Mr MF getting the snip is the most logical and practical thing to do. There may always be a little ‘what if’; but I can live with that. I think.
All that keeps playing through my head is the lyrics to John Williamson’s The Vasectomy Song, which I definitely cannot live with:
He said please blow into this bag, please sir
What? – To test your capability
I beg your pardon? – We’re cutting down on accidents
I said are you fair dinkum? – He said please blow into this bag and we’ll see . . .
What about you, has your husband had the snip? Or are you still thinking about it?
Mama Monsoon 
Go MF! we are seriously considering….we are torn…we want a third baby..we have ‘buts’ however we know the decision must be done soon-either way……
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It’s a tough decision; and a very personal one . . . even before we met we each wanted to have a family of four kids. But now it seems silly to want to risk eveyrthing for the sake of a number. Then again, I’m not sure I feel finished, sometimes anyway . . . Mr MF will happily go again but I don’t think I could handle the sleeplessness and crying and be telling myself ‘well you wanted this’ . . . Plus I cannot forget the months of sciatia pain, the pressure on my bones and the gestional diabetes. If we go again and fall pregnant straight away that means baby would be born in my 38th year, meaning that I would be still changing nappies at 40! Life begins at 40, what a joke! It’s all hard work and I want to get on to more enjoyable parts of the parenting journey!
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