The Earring

Book 3 Part 8

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Writing proved to be the creative outlet I needed. Even though I was busier than ever, I had an adult outlet. I hadn't even realized that what I missed as a stay at home Mom was intellectual stimulation. David's study was in the house and we talked, but more often than not, it was about children or interrupted by children. The only time I enjoyed invigorating discussion was on our weekly dates. They were too short and too far between to meet my adult conversation quotient. By the time the boys were in bed, I was too tired to talk ,or David was already involved in a television drama. Even at church the lack was there, because I taught preschool Sunday school and after church most of the Moms and grandmas talked about the cute things Junior or Junioress had done that day.

After several months of the new regime, I stopped by the doctor's office on my way home one day and picked up a pamphlet. After the boys were in bed, I nonchalantly dropped it in David's lap during a commercial. The title was "Frequently Asked Questions About Vasectomies." That got his attention. Off went the television; it was a bad western anyway.

"You want me to get cut?" he asked.

"Well, maybe. I just wanted to introduce the idea of a more permanent form of contraception."

"So, we can have you spayed," he joked.

"I'm not a cat."

"But you're nice and cuddly," he said, reaching out for my hand.

"And I've got claws," I warned.

"Okay, Sweet. I take it you think two is enough."

"Don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. But, a vasectomy, Syd?"

"Zach is still in diapers. If I had surgery, I wouldn't be able to pick him up for several months. Do you think you can explain that to a toddler?"

"Probably not." He patted the couch beside him. "Sit down and let's take a look."

Pointing, he said, "This says it is 99.3 percent effective, but it also says it can grow back anywhere from a year to ten years later."

"But that only happens in less than one percent of the cases," I noted.

"And only one percent of women react to an epidural, too."

[When Zach was born at 1am, I discovered that I was one of a few women – about 1 percent – who reacts adversely to the epidural. It wired me and made me unable to sleep.]

"I know, David, but I'm always the one in the one percentile ranks, not you."

"You might just drag me there when you become one of the one percent of women who get pregnant after their husbands have a vasectomy," he countered.

"Will you at least talk to the doctor about it?"

"I'll talk to the doctor, but if I get it done, it won't be here."

"Where then?"

"Somewhere that the doctor has lots and lots of experience – and where I won't risk meeting the nurse socially."

After talking to my ob-gyn (David wasn't even willing to broach the subject with our family physician), we agreed that a vasectomy was our best option. We scheduled the surgery with a doctor near his mother's house. That way, we could go there for our vacation, and he could have the surgery done without it being the 'talk of the town,' or 'country,' in this case.