Updated: July 15, 2021
Originally Published: November 22, 2010
Let’s chat about my partner’s vasectomy. As he’s naturally a bit reserved, I’ll keep it respectful and lighthearted.
We procrastinated longer than we probably should have. The ideal moment might have been between baby number two and three, but we were thrilled with the little one who made a surprise entrance—like Indiana Jones dodging a closing door: “Wait, you’re having one more!” But eventually, you reach a point where you just have to decide you’re done adding to the family tree.
After some informal research, we discovered that most of our friends who are parents opted for vasectomies as their preferred method of birth control. It’s a simple procedure, complications are rare, and guess what? Our insurance covered it! All we needed was a few days of couch confinement and some frozen peas to ease the recovery.
We explained the procedure to our kids, the youngest being five years old, anticipating their curiosity about why Dad would be walking around in a half-crouch, dazed from pain meds. We touched on the vas deferens and the special little seeds involved in baby-making, highlighting the perks (no more sibling rivalry!) while downplaying any discomfort (“It’s not worse than a shot!”).
But, of course, the moment I took my youngest, Lily, out in public after the procedure, she announced loudly, “My daddy’s getting his penis cut off!” I tried to stifle my giggles initially, but after a while, I just raised my eyebrows and shot her a look.
To celebrate the occasion, my partner’s coworkers threw a little gathering featuring cheese balls, carrots, celery sticks, and mixed nuts. I initially thought I’d be on the pill until menopause turned my womb into a barren landscape, but surprise! Here we are, free from the worry of additional children—a true medical marvel.
When my partner returned home from surgery, still groggy from painkillers, I sat beside him after taking Lily to her first dance class. I flipped through photos of her in her slightly worn leotard and tutu, which were hand-me-downs. Despite their rough condition, she looked so joyful, hands on her hips, lost in her dance. My partner paused, took in the image, and quietly said, “That’s my last baby.”
In that moment, I was flooded with memories of my own pregnancies—those long nights, the joy of holding our newborns, and the bittersweetness of cutting the umbilical cord. And now, with this last cut, we officially say goodbye to that chapter of our lives. We’re parents to these three and no more, and we can’t rewind to relive those magical moments with each new arrival.
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In summary, my partner’s vasectomy marked the end of our journey into expanding our family. Although it’s bittersweet, it’s also a relief to embrace the family we have.