The Big Vasectomy, Part I - The Decision

I threatened the world with my vasectomy before. After our third child I advertised this possibility.  It wasn’t a bluff. I’m just a little lazy like being late for an oil change or a dental cleaning. But I’m better for it. The entire world is better for it.

Meet Max, my fourth little creation and latest addition to the world. Could you imagine a world where this little wild thing didn’t exist? Could you imagine if I went through with the Big-V and stayed a father of three? Could you imagine Max not having the world at his little ferocious hands to take over?  Me neither.

I am a father of four, and it feels like I have always been a father of four… forever. Even when I wasn’t even a father at all telling the whole world that I never wanted to have any children. Somewhere deep inside me then, I was a father of four.  And let’s keep it that way.  Unless you know something I don’t know. Unless someone somewhere wants to test me one more time. Unless I’m not really a father of four but a father of fourteen hiding inside a father of four’s body.

Who knows really? But I can honestly say that I’m ready for the Big-V. I know it because I took the test. I took a self-evaluation test that was available online to help men decide whether they are ready for the Big-V. And Here, I present you with the questions and my answers.

Why do you want a vasectomy?

Seriously? Why not?  I have four children, a diminishing bank account, the sex drive of a three fraternity members and….four children. I wish there was a drive-thru lane for the vasectomy.

To say that I don’t want more kids is kind of a misnomer. With four children I kind of feel like a drunk at the bar lining up shots… “Keep ‘em coming!” The only difference between four children and eight children is the size of hangover the next day…..There will definitely be a hangover so I should just keep drinking these beautiful children.  But it’s never a good idea to listen to my inner drunk. It’s like that F. Scott Fitzgerald quote…”First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.” Only for us it’s…. “First you have a child, then the child has a child, then the children have you.”

I’m in a place now where I think I need some intervention. I’d have twenty children if I could. I’d have twenty children if I had more….more time, more money, more patience, more walls, more kitchen chairs. Children, my children especially, are fantastically sweet. Each one completes me in a way I wasn’t aware was possible. My bucket continues to fill up, never once flowing over. And I have my children to thank.

These kids have been dishing out their love to me like I was just another member of their payroll. But now it’s time I pay it back. I am ready to start the rest of my life with them. I am ready to continue to teach them, nurture them and watch them grow. Then again, I have said this after my second child…and my third…

How does your partner feel about this?

Right now my partner is surrounded by four children in a living room crowded by Made-In-China toys. My partner is sitting on the floor feeding our baby surrounded my children. There’s a Wii controller that is dangerously approaching my wife’s skull every time the kid takes a swing. Then there’s our daughter playing Angry Birds on my wife’s Nook which was a birthday present for my wife, although she rarely is able to wrestle it from the children. Then there’s the toddler stacking Legos into the laundry basket. Who knows if that basket is clean or dirty? (Well, my partner knows anyway.) So how does my partner feel about me getting a vasectomy? Um, I think she’s do it herself. I think she’d strike the match and lights the torch that burns my balls before brunch if given the chance.

At least, I think.

While in the hospital delivering our fourth child my wife’s doctor talked to us about our long-term method of birth control. This was his way of suggesting that it’s time for us to call it quits and he would do the deed to my wife while we were in the hospital. Almost like getting a brake-job while you’re at the shop getting your transmission fluid changed.  I was actually fairly offended by this insinuation by the doctor and would’ve impregnated my wife right there with a fifth child out of spite if it were possible. (That’s the kind of spite-addict I am. Fuck it, that’ll shut the good doctor up. Come on, I’ve paid for at least three of his bloated vacations the last eight years.)

At the end we told our doctor that I was going to be the one who’d take the measures. I figure it’s the least I can do. My wife has given up enough of her body for our family. She’s been pregnant a total of 36 months. That’s three total years. She’s breastfed almost every day for the better part of eight years. She’s made more renovations to her internal organs than Ty Pennington to sick people’s houses. She’s squeezed four beautiful, perfectly-shaped heads into this world.  So what if she used an epidural. High-five Honey, you’re still my hero!

I’m sure my wife has some long-term concerns about our collective sterilization, much more than me. But that’s why I’m choosing to do the deed. This allows my wife a backup plan. When she finally realizes the huge mistake she made by settling for my lame ass, she could find some younger, more stable man to make second family with. Consider this a practice family, Honey. The next guy (let’s call him Mike Brady) is going to afford to take you to Disneyworld three times a year.  Come on, not everyone can be an architect…But promise me this, Honey. Let me tag along at least once per year.

If your current relationship ended would your feelings change?

Okay, let’s just say for the sake of argument that my wife tires of mypatheticblog lifestyle and eventually dumps me. Would I want more children with another woman?

NOPE! And I am sure about this.

Most men chose younger women the second time around, but that is not my plan. I’m going older next time around. And I don’t mean cougar-older. I mean saber-tooth-tiger-older. I’m looking for a lady with some grandkids, a large bank account and a leisure suit. I’ve already had the young bride with the baby-showers and the expensive child accessories. I have already had the trunk filled with play-mobiles and baby butt cream. I do not need to do that again, and the Big-V would be my insurance plan. A man’s car should get smaller as his life goes on. I have the minivan now. Should my wife give me the boot, my next car with be a two-seater and my next wife will have to understand that I have populated this world with more than my share.

How would you feel if something happened to the children you have now?

Whoa! Slow down. Mypatheticblog is supposed to be a light-hearted, afternoon read. And now I’m being asked these heavy questions. Parents should never have their heads wander in this direction, even in the slightest. But if I must visit this possibility to pass the Big-V test, then now I must answer it.

Like I said, my children have given me all they have to give. I expect nothing more from them. Every day with each of those faces is a gift that I am eternally thankful for.  They are not to be replaced or substituted. I am full. I am complete. These children owe me nothing more. And that’s all I can really say about that.

Is there any reason why you think you might change your mind in the future?

I suppose if the science world came up with a new way to use fertile sperm that could make me rich I might consider reversing the Big-V.

Funny story…when I was in my very-early twenties and hard up for cash I considered selling my sperm. I got a phone number out of the yellow pages (remember the yellow pages?) and called a sperm bank.

“Hello,” the female voice said on the other end.

“Yes, I’m calling about donating my sperm,” I eagerly offered.

There was silence on the other end, before the girl suggested that I had the wrong number. Poor girl thought I was some kind of lewd caller. I quickly hung up the phone and decided perhaps this was a sign. I will save all my sperm and use it for my future….

Which gives me a thought…If I get the Big-V I wonder how many times I could get paid at a sperm bank before they realize that I’m selling them blank bullets. I could probably pay off the addition, the mortgage, the college funds and my mid-life crisis mobile with daily visits.

Again, where is that drive-thru lane. Sign me up. I’m headed in.

See Part II - The Consult of this three-part vasectomy series here…


I am Kevin Harris, a father of four and husband to one very understanding woman. And yes, we know exactly what’s causing all these pregnancies! My home life makes me smile and I like to share that laughter with others. Hopefully, you can find a bit of your home life reflecting in my pathetic blog. Like it. Seriously, you know you want to. Just click the damn thumb already. For more of my writing I suggest you visit my favorites page….