Last week I got myself snipped. It seems a little counterintuitive to use one of the first posts in a blog about “fatherhood” to go into not being able to father any more children, but for all we know my parents briefly considered “Counterintuitive” for my middle name before finally settling on “Samuel.” So, in this first post, we’ll address the reasons I signed myself up for the big “V” (As an aside, when writing statements like that, is it appropriate to preface a capitalized letter with the term “big”? Seems redundant to do so, but it seems too subtle to not do so.) and the questions I’m assuming you’ll have for me (based almost entirely on the questions I’ve been asked so far).
Why don’t you want any more kids?
I have four kids, each of whom I love dearly, and I really wanted to not have to love any of them any less (as we all know, every man has a finite amount of love to give his kids, and he just has to keep spreading it out with each new child — it’s a scientific fact). Also, my kids seem to be getting dumber. My 4-year-old can count to 100. My 3-year-old can’t make it past 20. Not exactly evolutionary progress.
Why not just keep on using the birth control you’ve been using?
I’m like a damned Special Forces sniper — one shot, one kill. My wife and I have 3 kids together (the oldest of my 4 is my step-son; it’s a little confusing, so I’ll probably be sure to call that out anytime the math calls for it) and it never took us more than about 2 hours of trying with any of them (editor’s note: that included dinner, a movie, and the cuddling after). I refuse to trust any sort of non-surgical, non-permanent method for the next 10-15 years of her being active.
Aren’t you scared for your boys?
Hell yes I’m scared for my boys. Painfully scared, as a matter of fact. But I really want it done, and it is about 10,000 times safer for the man than the woman.
So what next?
In my next post we’ll explore meeting the doctor for the first time. Please note the next post is now live.