As a kid, I don’t ever remember wanting to be a mom, you know like the girls who dreamed about it from a very young age. Not me. Maybe someday, but only one, maybe two kids – max, and if I didn’t have any, it would be fine. Enter husband-to-be…who wanted kids, lots of kids. After having my first two children I became comfortable with being a mom, more than comfortable actually. I had morphed into this person I never thought I would, or even could be. Being a mom completed me. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and joy to watch my babies grow up, knowing the role I was privileged enough to play in their development was invaluable. I had found something that I loved to the moon and back…so much so, we had a couple more.
When our last child was born, my husband’s job demands increased significantly. I felt like I had lost my partner in crime. It was just me, myself, and a slew of kids most of the time. I became increasingly overwhelmed, and I needed some peace of mind that this was as deep as I would be buried in the thick of it.
Out of desperation, I took my shot.
As my husband lay in a hospital bed, awaiting a routine procedure, the doctor came to do a pre-op check, “So what will it take to add on a vasectomy today, Doc?” I blurted out. My husband’s jaw hit the floor. While we had casually discussed our options in the past, he was never a fan of the V-word! And to be honest, I had joked about it with friends, but I had never given it a considerable amount of thought, because he had never entertained the idea of it. My rationale at that moment: It was his turn to take one for the team, and since he was going under anesthesia anyway, it was a two for one deal. Knowing full well I was tapped out with the stresses of life, and clinging to the little sanity I had left, he conceded. The doctor pulled some strings and my husband signed off on my idea.
Sitting there in the waiting room, the tears began to fall.
It hit me hard, really hard. I never thought he would go through with it, and I thought I was done-done with having kids…but, what had I done? What if I change my mind and want more? Will I regret not having more children…after all this being a mom thing is kinda my thing! What’s one more?…I guess I’ll never know.
Since his procedure, I am slowly coming to terms with the idea that there will be no more babies in our house. I never thought I would feel this way, but I am still struggling with my decision months later. I do hope that as my kids grow and move into different phases in life, it becomes easier to accept. Maybe time will heal. But to be honest, every time I look at my youngest I think this is the last one. Every milestone, every first…is the last that I will ever know…and I feel buyer’s remorse kick in every day.
Have you struggled with a decision you made and can’t take back? Has an impulse decision ever left you with regret?