Last week before all of this chaos went down, Bill and I decided that we were happy with the size of our family and to make a permanent decision - a vasectomy for Bill. We had been talking about his for quite some time; not only were we happy with the size of our family, but there is no way I can go through another pregnancy again and we figured the end of the year was the best time to do this (for insurance purposes).
Bill had been talking to some of his co-workers about it for months. One of his friends had one done about 6 months ago and highly recommended the Doctor he went to. We set up a consultation with the Doctor last week to go over the procedure and apparently spouses have to be there so the Doctor knows it's a family decision (I thought that was pretty interesting).
On the way to the consultation, the reality of making a permanent decision ran though my mind. I knew this was the best option. We were absolutely finished having kids. There's no way we can have more; financially, physically, mentally - two is just right for us. But, still. The thought that this was the very last step, that there is no going back, that this is permanent, stuck with me for the whole drive there.
We got to the office and I was a little apprehensive after feeling like I was back in 1977. Not knowing the Doctor, I expected a decrepit, shaky man who could hardly see by the way the office looked. Bill and I had been joking about the office and the procedure and Bill was texting his co-worker who recommended the office, mentioning how he felt like he should be wearing a leisure track suit. There was a woman sitting next to me reading a magazine and shortly after we sat down next to her, the man she was waiting for came out from the back office. He had a dazed and confused look on his face with a huge spaced out grin. "Do you want to hang out for a minute or are you ready to go?", she asked him. He said he was ready to go and as he shuffled out the door, she looked at me with a knowing smile. After they left I couldn't help but laugh.
We were called back into the exam room and met with the Doctor. I was pleasantly surprised as he was a younger guy (or younger than I imagined) and very nice. He explained the technique he uses - removing a piece, cauterizing it and tying it in a knot. He asked us if we were sure we wanted to do this since his technique is one of the most permanent ones available and very difficult, if not impossible to reverse. We were sure. We scheduled the date for the surgery.
On Friday afternoon, Bill was nervous but ready. He had a prescription of Valium and pain meds to take before going in. It was a little hard for me to be sympathetic after having our kids. I had been through two labors, one unmedicated delivery and two recoveries that were in postpartum terms, easy, but compared to the recovery of a vasectomy, horribly painful. All Bill would get is a stitch, some swelling, some pain and he should be back to work in two days. Not only back to work in two days, but back to regular activity in a week. Postpartum recovery takes at least 6 weeks if not longer than that in some cases. This surgery was a snap, to put it lightly.
Bill went back for the procedure while Carter and I waited for about 45 minutes in the waiting room (Logan was playing at the drop-in childcare center). When all was said and done, Bill walked out feeling great and relieved that it was so easy and pretty painless. The Doctor came out with him to say that Bill did great and told him that he should have been screaming here and there to make me think he was actually going through something painful. While walking out to the car, Bill spoke highly of the Doctor and said that he would recommend him to anyone we knew going in for a vasectomy (which is actually a hot topic of discussion at a lot of the MOMS Club activities) and Bill told the Doctor that he was recommending him to the other guys at work, making him the official Doctor to go to for one (I guess there are a few other guys wanting to go in).
The recovery for him has been a little painful, but not too bad. Nothing a few ibuprofen can't take care of. In the Big Picture, a few days of being sore is nothing compared to 9 months of puking every cell of my body up and then being pulled half apart at delivery with more stitches than I can count.
Yeah. We made the right decision.