In recent weeks, life had turned into a whirlwind of activity, largely due to my in-laws visiting from abroad. Amidst the chaos, I suddenly realized I hadn’t had my period. Was I late? No, wait—maybe I wasn’t due yet. Ever since my husband underwent a vasectomy (which I insisted on being present for because I can’t resist a spectacle) and I stopped taking the pill, I had lost track of the details. In fact, for the last two years, at least one night each month, I’ve woken up to find my period had arrived—right in our bed. Seriously, how immature is that? Take a moment to roll your eyes at me; you have every right to.
A few days later, I found myself increasingly anxious. I was definitely late. I thought I felt cramps about a week prior, but they had disappeared. Instead of simply heading to the store for a pregnancy test, I made the questionable decision to Google “pregnancy after vasectomy.” To my shock, I discovered that in rare cases, a man’s tubes can reconnect years after a vasectomy, potentially leading to unexpected fertility. Suddenly, I recalled my mother sharing stories about chickens that continued to run around even after losing their heads. But my husband’s situation was different—his was figurative, after all. This just couldn’t be happening.
As fate would have it, I got my period while en route to Target to purchase that test. Talk about timing.
Fast forward a week. While traveling for work, I spotted an adorable new mother, her baby snugly secured in a sling, gently rocking and kissing his head. Overwhelmed, I broke down in tears once I boarded the plane. “Get a grip,” I chastised myself. “You didn’t even want another child! You already have three wonderful kids. How selfish could you be?” I couldn’t help but think of the countless women longing for just one child.
Yet, the thought of another baby had crept back into my mind. Though it was brief, that door I believed I had firmly shut now stood ajar.
Once a woman gets married, the questions start rolling in: “Are you planning to have kids?” And as time passes, it shifts to, “When will you begin your family?” After your first child arrives, you’re immediately asked, “When will you give that little one a sibling?” The inquiries regarding the number, timing, and method of having children seem fair game for casual conversation, yet women face harsh judgment for their responses. State you don’t want kids, and you’re labeled selfish. Have the socially acceptable two or three, and you might as well be blessed by a unicorn. But go beyond that? Prepare for furrowed brows and judgmental comments. I once overheard someone ask a friend with five kids, “Why on earth did you have so many?” Because that’s a question that’s helpful, right?
Eventually, whether by choice or circumstance, there comes a moment when the door to having more children closes. While we may be done expecting, the emotional weight of what a new child symbolizes—hope, anxiety, love, and anticipation—can linger. I realized that my tears were a reflection of mourning the end of an era. I feel fortunate that I was able to make this choice and would choose it again without hesitation. However, the fleeting thought of another child deepened my gratitude for the three I already have. With two working parents and countless distractions, perhaps that’s precisely the perspective I needed.
And yes, I should probably invest in a calendar to keep track of my periods. Seriously, how gross can one person be?
For more insights on pregnancy and family planning, check out this excellent resource: Rmany.
In summary, the journey of parenting is filled with expectations, both from ourselves and society. As we navigate these emotions, it’s essential to cherish what we have while also acknowledging the bittersweet feelings that come with closure.