I have been asked countless times, especially since being pregnant, “are you guys going to have more kids?”. Fuck no! That is my canned response. Their automatic assumption leads to their next question of “Oh! So, are you going to get your tubes tied when you have this one?”. Fuck no. That is my canned response.
First of all, why is the default assumption that women will or should be the ones responsible for birth control, permanent or otherwise? I have yet to encounter one person that jumps to the conclusion that my husband will be the one going under the birth control knife. Truth be told, even my husband, during my last pregnancy, assumed it would be me. “If they are doing a c-section, they can just do all that then, right?”, he asked. After I killed him a million and one ways in my mind and shot daggers at him with my eyes, I sweetly informed him that he was sorely mistaken. I lovingly explained to him that we had three children and his junk had nothing but fun on the road to bringing them into this world. My junk and the rest of my body, on the other hand, had been through hell and back during that journey. Now, with the fourth one on the way, I think it is about time that his junk took one for the team.
As I have sought out someone to perform this procedure on my husband, I have discovered that dick doctors are a lot less supportive of family involvement than vagina doctors. My husband has been allowed, even encouraged, to be in the same room with me during every step of our family planning. When I have been laid out, spread eagle, in a hospital bed, being violated seven ways to Sunday, he was there. When I pushed for over two hours to squeeze out a screaming human larvae, the nurse kept directing his attention to the upskirt view so he could have a front row seat to all the action. When I was strapped down to a table having a child surgically removed from my body, he was there and was encouraged to peek over the curtain to watch it all. In each instance, he was also invited over and handed a pair of surgical scissors and permitted to cut through the umbilical cord, taking an active role. So, pray tell me, why are these dick doctors being so fucking weird about me wanting to take a similarly active role in this part of our family planning journey? Here is my vision, as I explain it to them when I call:
I want to be in the room with my husband when they do the procedure, from the first shot of dick numbing medicine to the last stitch. I want to tell him “breathe! breathe! Can you feel that? Does it hurt? Oh my god! YIKES!! This has to hurt! BREATHE!!!”. I want to take pictures. I want the dick doctor to hand me the scissors and let me cut the “cord”. After the procedure is complete, I would like for someone to take a picture of me posing with his newborn dick. I am thinking I want it wrapped in a blanket and me cradling it in my hands. I want to have a hospital gown and I want the doctors, after the procedure, to rub ink on his newborn dick and press ball prints and maybe a mushroom print on my hospital gown. I just want it to be special, dammit!! Why is every fucking dick doctor so uptight? Just because men refer to them as their “jewels” does not make it true. They are dicks. If my husband is allowed to shimmy up a front row seat in the birthing room, inches away from the baby cannon and then handed a pair of fucking scissors to start cutting shit, why don’t I get the same treatment from the dick doctor. It is bullshit.
I am still looking for a doctor.
