My husband recently had a “procedure” (insert air quotes and a dr evil voice) done and I have some thoughts on the process because when he talks about it, he seems to imply that it may be close to laboring a child and I want to punch him in his face and laugh in his face simultaneously. So here’s our experience….
I’ve heard of some men actually refusing to go get a vasectomy. I guess they think it’ll make them less of a man. I have news for them….my husband was more than willing to go because the thought of never having sex with me again was apparently more of a threat to his manhood.
So once you decide on getting one, you have to go for a consultation. You have to go for an appointment before your actual appointment so they can make sure you’re ready to stop having kids. I don’t ever remember them taking me in for an appointment while I was pregnant and asking me if I wanted to not give birth anymore. Ya know, if I was too nervous or just changed my mind.
The big day:
The actual ‘procedure’ is a 45 minute outpatient cakewalk. They are totally able to walk in/ walk out and then go to lunch after. Oh and all the while, I’m sitting in the waiting room with four kids. The nurse gave me one look and knew what we were there for. Now she knows why I thought the consultation was a joke. We have four kids…of course he’s fucking sure! While I’m sitting there breastfeeding a newborn, breaking up a fist fight, and looking at a bugbite for the bazillionth time, I contemplated faking a yeast infection and having the doctor take a look at it while we were there to at least make it a little more exciting. What? Is that weird? Well, right after I gave birth to my fourth, like literally 20 minutes after, as the doctor was probably stitching me up for all I know, my husband has the balls to ask my ob to look at the rash that he had been complaining about for the past 14 hours of my labor. The doctor looked at me like ‘is he for real?!’ It turned out to be jock itch. My yeast infection joke isn’t that out of place anymore, is it?
First of all, I just want to point out that immediately after giving birth, we moms take care of our newborn child. So why is it that after a little snip and stitch, my husband’s claiming he’s too sore to pour a fucking cup of milk. He couldn’t pour the milk, but he could dance around our bedroom in his surgeon issued jock strap 🤔Something is not right here. Another thing: I didn’t have time to ice after popping out a baby, yet I think he was still holding frozen peas on his junk on day four of his ‘recovery.’
Ok, so a few days go by and the swelling goes down. Now he’s starting to worry about the aesthetics of his balls. Really?! First of all, the one stitch you got isn’t going to change anything. Secondly, balls are gross to start with so maybe there’d be an improvement. Kinda like a little nip/ tuck action going on down there.
One positive that came out of his recovery was that I got a week pass of no sex and I didn’t even need to have my period! I call that a win.
So, that’s that. No more babies (unless of course we are that couple that it doesn’t work for, and I could totally see that happening to us. Fuck) I’m a little sad but not really. I’m ready to move onto the next stage. It’s been a few weeks and the other day he said to me “see what I do for you?” referring to his “procedure” (insert Dr Evil voice agian, and if you’re not as enthusiastic about these Austin Power references as I am, then I suggest you to watch those movies again cuz they’re fucking hysterical). I looked at him and said, head or balls, which one is more important? Because if I got pregnant for a fifth time I’d bite your head off like a fucking praying mantis does after she mates. (Husband’s answer: balls. Me: 🤦🏼♀️)