Sometime in June or July my husband had a vasectomy. It’s something we had talked about at length for nearly the entirety of our relationship up to that point. Which then had been nearly 13 years. We knew from the beginning neither of us really wanted children. We both have pretty awful genetics in terms of addiction, mental health, and physical deformities (though mild), and we also knew that we just didn’t want the responsibility of parenthood.
About four years after we started dating, my husband went for a consultation with his physician about the possibility of a vasectomy. The doctor told him they would absolutely not perform the procedure since he was under 28, had no children, and was unmarried. I knew from various friends’ experiences that a tubal ligation wouldn’t be an option to me unless I was over 28 or had two or more children. Only now do I know that there are no laws or requirements in the state of Florida beyond a doctor’s willingness to perform a sterilization procedure. I was also not exactly sold on the idea of having an invasive surgical procedure that wasn’t medically necessary.
As a woman you hear things like “You’ll change your mind.” or “How selfish of you to not want children! That’s what your biologically supposed to do! If you don’t have kids you’re going against nature!” So, I held out. I spent five years on the depo provera shot because I had tried the pill during my last relationship and it just didn’t work with my body chemistry. Neither did the depo, but I wasn’t ready for either of us to go ahead with permanent sterilization, just in case what everyone said was true. Maybe I would change my mind and crave my supposed biological imperative.
Eight years passed by of us using multiple forms of contraception. When we were about to marry, I considered the possibility of children again. I would say I seriously considered it to the point of borderline existential crisis. Married people were supposed to have children. If I was about to be married, shouldn’t the next logical step be children? How do you progress a marriage without children? There was a crushing weight of expectation to have children and every time I avoided directly answering the question of “When are you planning to have babies?” I could feel the air around me prickle with disappointment and immediately cleared with a breeze of skepticism and dismissive, self-righteous commentary of “Of course, you’ll have kids! It’s okay to wait a few years.” Which was almost always followed up with “Don’t wait too long though! You only have so much time to do these things! You don’t want to be the old mom!”
The truth was, I didn’t want to be a mom, but I was terrified of what people would think if I openly embraced the decision to remain childless. My husband and I half-joked about how we were never having kids. His favorite response was always that he was the only child our relationship needed. Mine was that he was the only child our relationship could afford! Grown up toys are expensive!
I still don’t want to be a mom. I am almost 33 years old and the older I get, the more certain I am of my choice not to have kids. Only now I have enough faith in myself and my decision to respond to the You’ll-change-your-mind-ers with a polite “No, I won’t.”
Last summer my husband and I discussed the possibility of vasectomy again and decided that not only was it the easiest form of permanent birth control, but it was also the least expensive or invasive, and also the most effective. And if by some weird chance we ever did change our minds, we would look into adoption. He made the appointment, had the procedure — which only took about 20 minutes, and by the next day we were out to lunch with friends.
My husband had his procedure on a Friday afternoon, which meant he had to leave early and there probably wouldn’t be any partying that weekend. But when my husband told his male coworkers he was going in for his vasectomy, more than a few of them said he should made me have a tubal ligation instead. He rolled his eyes and explained that the vasectomy was way better because he would never have to worry about having kids again, wife or not. He told me the guys had been giving him a hard time and I was admittedly irrationally annoyed. So I did what I always do. I took to the internet and posted this little gem on my tumblr.
I was selfish if I didn’t have children, I was selfish if my husband chose to sacrifice his reproductive ability for our relationship. If I had children and wasn’t able to care for them the way they deserved, I would be irresponsible and selfish. If I had children and still worked full time, I would be labeled a selfish, entitled bitch because I should be caring for kids instead of focusing on my career and trying to ‘Lean In.’
You know what? I am selfish. I’m selfish because I refuse to be bullied into submission by name calling or passive aggressive know-it-alls. I’m selfish because I would rather choose a child than have a child. I’m selfish because I don’t know if I would be a good parent and I refuse to take the risk of completely screwing up another person’s life just to fulfill some socio-biological imperative.
I’m okay with that. --Camicia Bennett
About four years after we started dating, my husband went for a consultation with his physician about the possibility of a vasectomy. The doctor told him they would absolutely not perform the procedure since he was under 28, had no children, and was unmarried. I knew from various friends’ experiences that a tubal ligation wouldn’t be an option to me unless I was over 28 or had two or more children. Only now do I know that there are no laws or requirements in the state of Florida beyond a doctor’s willingness to perform a sterilization procedure. I was also not exactly sold on the idea of having an invasive surgical procedure that wasn’t medically necessary.
As a woman you hear things like “You’ll change your mind.” or “How selfish of you to not want children! That’s what your biologically supposed to do! If you don’t have kids you’re going against nature!” So, I held out. I spent five years on the depo provera shot because I had tried the pill during my last relationship and it just didn’t work with my body chemistry. Neither did the depo, but I wasn’t ready for either of us to go ahead with permanent sterilization, just in case what everyone said was true. Maybe I would change my mind and crave my supposed biological imperative.
Eight years passed by of us using multiple forms of contraception. When we were about to marry, I considered the possibility of children again. I would say I seriously considered it to the point of borderline existential crisis. Married people were supposed to have children. If I was about to be married, shouldn’t the next logical step be children? How do you progress a marriage without children? There was a crushing weight of expectation to have children and every time I avoided directly answering the question of “When are you planning to have babies?” I could feel the air around me prickle with disappointment and immediately cleared with a breeze of skepticism and dismissive, self-righteous commentary of “Of course, you’ll have kids! It’s okay to wait a few years.” Which was almost always followed up with “Don’t wait too long though! You only have so much time to do these things! You don’t want to be the old mom!”
The truth was, I didn’t want to be a mom, but I was terrified of what people would think if I openly embraced the decision to remain childless. My husband and I half-joked about how we were never having kids. His favorite response was always that he was the only child our relationship needed. Mine was that he was the only child our relationship could afford! Grown up toys are expensive!
I still don’t want to be a mom. I am almost 33 years old and the older I get, the more certain I am of my choice not to have kids. Only now I have enough faith in myself and my decision to respond to the You’ll-change-your-mind-ers with a polite “No, I won’t.”
Last summer my husband and I discussed the possibility of vasectomy again and decided that not only was it the easiest form of permanent birth control, but it was also the least expensive or invasive, and also the most effective. And if by some weird chance we ever did change our minds, we would look into adoption. He made the appointment, had the procedure — which only took about 20 minutes, and by the next day we were out to lunch with friends.
My husband had his procedure on a Friday afternoon, which meant he had to leave early and there probably wouldn’t be any partying that weekend. But when my husband told his male coworkers he was going in for his vasectomy, more than a few of them said he should made me have a tubal ligation instead. He rolled his eyes and explained that the vasectomy was way better because he would never have to worry about having kids again, wife or not. He told me the guys had been giving him a hard time and I was admittedly irrationally annoyed. So I did what I always do. I took to the internet and posted this little gem on my tumblr.
Anyone who knows what a tubal ligation entails vs. a vasectomy and still advocates for a woman have an invasive medical procedure requiring anesthesia and incisions rather than an outpatient medical procedure that can take less than 20 minutes and only a few days of recovery (literally, we went to lunch the next day) should probably re-evaluate their life choices. If you value your sperm more than a woman undergoing a major surgical procedure, YOU ARE PROBABLY TERRIBLE.Yes, I know it’s rude, but in all honesty, if you and your partner are considering permanent sterilization the vasectomy is the least complicated and most effective (failure rate for vasectomies is 1 in 2000 which is considerably better than tubal ligations for which there is one failure in every 200 to 300 cases). I didn’t expect to anyone to reply since my tumblr following is so small, but someone did.
So, your husband should have his ability to produce offspring removed, so you don’t have to? that’s entitlement, and as a result, you’re an entitled bitch.I didn’t know this person. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know the situation, which I did explain, and still I was called an entitled bitch. All because my husband came up with the idea to have a vasectomy and after much discussion he finally did it. Some how though, it was my fault that his ability to produce offspring was removed. I was the selfish one.
I was selfish if I didn’t have children, I was selfish if my husband chose to sacrifice his reproductive ability for our relationship. If I had children and wasn’t able to care for them the way they deserved, I would be irresponsible and selfish. If I had children and still worked full time, I would be labeled a selfish, entitled bitch because I should be caring for kids instead of focusing on my career and trying to ‘Lean In.’
You know what? I am selfish. I’m selfish because I refuse to be bullied into submission by name calling or passive aggressive know-it-alls. I’m selfish because I would rather choose a child than have a child. I’m selfish because I don’t know if I would be a good parent and I refuse to take the risk of completely screwing up another person’s life just to fulfill some socio-biological imperative.
I’m okay with that. --Camicia Bennett
