Open to More

Vasectomy Reversal

I hear Tommy start to make noise on the monitor so I go upstairs to get him up. He took a decent nap, about an hour and half, which is good for him.

“Well hello there,” I croon as I walk into his nursery. He squirms and smiles when he sees me.

I scoop him up and we settle into the rocking chair. I latch him and he sighs contentedly as he nurses. I inhale slowly and get a whiff of banana from his little hands—his breakfast earlier that morning.

I feel my whole body relax as we nurse and I lean back into the chair and close my eyes. Nursing is so relaxing for both of us, almost as if we can both feel the flow of oxytocin spreading from my body into the rest of the room.

He finishes and I switch him to the other side, where he sucks a few times and pulls off and gives me a goofy grin. He is simply so cute and I live for these cuddles with just him and me. I kiss his pink cheeks and we cuddle for a few more minutes before we head downstairs to his two big brothers.

If I could bottle up moments like this, I would. The sweetness, the simplicity. I’m so grateful I get to be a stay-at-home mom and get so much precious time with my baby boy. It’s not lost on me that it is a privilege. I get so much fulfillment out of being with my kids, loving on them throughout the day, tending to their needs. I love it. I love being a mom more than I thought possible.

And with this love of being a mother, it’s become very clear to me over the past few months that I do not feel done. My heart and my head have been telling me very different things since the vasectomy, and it’s been confusing to navigate. My head says, “you’re done” and my heart has been crying out “I have more love to give!!!!” I’ve talked endlessly with Rob, with close friends, with my therapist, with my parents, my sisters. Ever so slowly, I’ve started to listen to my heart.

You know in the Bible, when Jacob wrestles with God? That’s what it’s feels like recently. I go back and forth with God as I lay in bed at night, trying to figure out the right thing to do. We made a terrible mistake…what now, God? What now?

“It is enough”

Of course it is. I have three beautiful boys. Our life is happy. What we have been given is enough. Of course.

And yet.

I think I’ve come to realize that the answer isn’t so black and white. I want it to be, but it’s not.

I think I’ve come to realize that I want to hold my hands open to the possibility of more. Not because what we have isn’t enough, but because children are always a blessing, and it is okay to hope for more. Are we promised more? No. But it is okay to open the door back up to the possibility.

So we have decided to reverse the vasectomy. I am not going to get into the weeds of the decision, because this isn’t Rob’s blog. It’s my blog, about my life. So I’ll respect his privacy and simply say we are united in the decision that it is what needed to happen to move forward. I feel quite a bit of embarrassment about it all, after making such a costly stupid mistake and having to right it, but shame is not productive.

I know a reversal does not guarantee another child. Surprisingly, I have so much peace with that. Because what we have is enough, I know I will be okay if we only ever have three children. It is enough. But I am also so glad that the door is not so firmly shut. I am glad that now the door is at least cracked…that there is possibility. I find peace in that too. In some ways, the reversal feels like I am giving up the control and giving it back to God.

When I was a teenager, amidst my angsty woes of life, I would return again and again to Psalm 31. There’s a part I really like:

“But I trust in you, Lord.

I say, ‘You are my God.’

My times are in your hands.”

I find so much comfort in knowing “my times” are in God’s hands. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if the reversal will be successful, if we will ever get pregnant again, if we will have another miscarriage, if we will just keep on living with our three kiddos and that will be that. I don’t know! But I can trust God—I do know that. My times are in His hands.

So, here I am, walking forward. We have finally made a decision. And now my hands are open. Open to just three kids—that is enough!!!—and open to more, if that is in God’s will. So often in my life, my fists have been tightly clenched, about what I want, about what I expect. This might be the first time in my life that my hands are genuinely open to whatever comes. The door is now cracked open.