According to a random Google search, a vasectomy has an average failure rate of 0.15%. Granted, most “failures” occur in the first few months after the procedure as the pipes aren’t entirely cleared out, if you know what I mean. Many dudes, for reasons that are beyond my understanding, never go back for the recommended 2 and 6-month follow-ups. Maybe it’s the jacking off into a cup that throws them off, but when you’ve already invested that much money and pain, what’s a few more wife approved masturbatory minutes? Whatever the reason, most “failures” are due to the fact that there are still little soldiers hanging on for dear life, and those follow-ups are there to detect those stubborn little bastards.
Then there are the ever so diligent men who can’t wait to get intimate with a Tupperware container to ensure that their investment is secure. These men fall on the grenade of self-gratification so that their dear wives will never have to undergo an unwanted pregnancy. On behalf of women everywhere, thank you for your sacrifice.
In the case of my wonderfully loving husband, he is what you would call a rule follower. He paid a good chunk of money to make sure that I couldn’t use the “baby body” excuse ever again. He followed instructions carefully after his procedure by taking in samples at both 2 months and 6 months post snip-snip. That is the technical term for it. Both his samples came back negative. So, in November of 2015, we celebrated our newfound sterilization in ways I will not describe as family members may be reading this post. But I will say this, IT WAS AWESOME!! No more birth control. No more hormones. No more worrying. Until February of 2016 when my always punctual Aunt Flo didn’t make her monthly visit….that bitch.
Waiting, of course, until after our annual trip to Galena for a weekend of skiing and drinking, both of which are literally at the top of the list of things not to do when pregnant, I decided to take a pregnancy test. My husband, pissed that I would waste money on a pregnancy test when it was “impossible,” waited in the living room while I ruled out the obvious. Now, on the packaging for these pregnancy tests, it says to wait 1-3 minutes for results. I didn’t have to wait 1-3 seconds. Before I had my pants pulled up there were 2 lines staring back up at me like a giant middle finger.
I just started laughing, because what else are you going to do. I didn’t know what to say to my husband. The competitive German in me wanted to say, “Ha! you were wrong. I was right, suck it!” But then I realized that no one really won in this situation so that was out. I just wanted walking into the living room, laid the stick, which I had peed on mind you, on the arm of the couch, and sat down. It was like someone drained all of the blood out of his face. He just sat in silence….for the next 48 hours.
The follow days and weeks were not great. I’m not going to lie. My oldest son told everyone, “My mom is having a baby and she cried about it.” Yup. Sure did!
As it always does, time heals all wounds. We have a wonderful almost 1 year old son, who brings so much joy to our lives. And he’s a really strong swimmer (Ba-Dum-Tish). And as I tell my husband, if our marriage can survive this, it can survive anything.
For the record, he did not ever go back to his urologist for fear he would not be able to control his rage. He did go see another guy who said his tubes grown back together (also not an uncommon reason for failure). This time around, I got fixed. So, if I get knocked up again, I’m straight up buying all the lottery tickets.