- After our second child was born, we decided we were done having kids.
- My husband saw everything I'd gone through, including C-sections, so he decided to get a
vasectomy .
A year after our second baby was born, my husband and I agreed it was time to talk about a vasectomy.
He wasn't exactly jumping up and down with glee at the idea of having a scalpel near his scrotum, but he'd seen me through two long and massive pregnancies followed by two C-sections and acknowledged that this was one to take for the team.
Also, my husband is no fool. He knew that getting snipped would result in improved quality — and quantity — of sex.
My body didn't react well to birth control
My body was both great at getting pregnant easily and miserable at tolerating birth control. High fertility and limited options for avoiding a "Woman Who Lived in a Shoe" scenario meant I was hypercautious about protection.
I couldn't tolerate anything hormonal; years of experimenting with various birth-control pills proved that point.
This left barrier options; however, I was also prone to UTIs, yeast infections, and, as I later discovered, fibroids. So we used condoms — not much fun, since I also discovered I was latex-sensitive. Only the expensive polyurethane ones worked for me.
This led to my husband fully recognizing it was his turn to avoid getting me pregnant, once we both agreed we were done with kids.
The procedure was quick
He was told to avoid aspirin for a week and to shave the designated area. Honestly, the potential for nicking himself while shaving was probably the biggest tension.
He was in and out of the urologist's office in under an hour. I drove him home, he spent a Saturday on the couch getting cozy with a frozen bag of peas, and then he was back to normal.
There was no extensive healing period, no lengthy suffering. Really, there wasn't much in the way of suffering, period. He said he had a bit of mild discomfort for an afternoon, and that was that.
It is, however, possible that recovery was hastened by the promise of condom-free, nonprocreative sex. Honestly, we were both eager to give that a go, even though we had to get the all-clear first: Condoms remained until the doctor said he was completely shooting blanks. It didn't take that long, and it was an entertaining goal to meet anyhow.
There was no doubt that getting the vasectomy improved our sex life tremendously. I no longer worried about a broken condom or an accidental conception, freeing me up to relax and enjoy myself. He no longer needed to reassure me that all necessary precautions were a go, or spend time and energy hunting down the specific brands of condoms that didn't provoke an allergic reaction.
We could both concentrate on each other rather than expending our focus on preventing pregnancy.
We both preach the gospel of vasectomy to friends, family, and anyone who shows the slightest inclination or interest in discussing it. You'd be amazed how often people want to talk about it — women mostly do because they're trying to encourage their partners; men, though, mostly want affirmation that it's awful and they shouldn't really have to do it.
Yes, our experience was entirely positive: an easy procedure, quick healing, and ample reward to make up for any discomfort. But the whole thing was a game-changer, and we are both so much happier we're now playing on this new board.