Last year at this time my midwives held their annual potluck picnic. Everyone who had a baby with them in the past year is invited and everyone mingles and chats and compares notes and of course it's a nice way to say goodbye to the women who cared for you during pregnancy and childbirth and the ugly weeks afterwards.
Last year Ruby and I attended. When I walked away I had a big lump in my throat, feeling sure that I would likely never see these women again - for obvious reasons.
Little did I know that I would become pregnant shortly after that picnic. Hell, when I look at the calendar it might have even been that very night!
And so this year the four of us attended the picnic. A mom, a dad, a daughter and a son. The family that I never thought I would have.
But mere hours before the picnic, Steve had a consultation with the doctor that is going to perform his vasectomy.
I spent TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS to get pregnant due to MALE FACTOR INFERTILITY and my husband is now going to get a VASECTOMY. Do you know how weird that feels??? There was a time when I was gutted at the possibility of living childless for the rest of my life and trying to figure out how I would come to terms with that and now I am sending my husband for a VASECTOMY.
He has less than 1% viable sperm for Christ sake!
Yet, here I was at the midwive's picnic for the second year in a row. I do not want to attend next year's picnic. Nor any subsequent picnics in the future.
So a vasectomy it is.
Still. The irony. Right?
When I walked away from the picnic this time and loaded up my family into my minivan, I did not have the lump in my throat. I knew that this was indeed goodbye... again. And that this time it was going to be goodbye for real. But this time it was on my terms and not at the mercy of infertility.
And I do perfer things to be on my terms.