I saw this ad yesterday. It featured my husband. It's very strange to open a magazine is see your very own spouse staring back at you. Well, almost. It wasn't so much the photo of him (actually, it looked nothing like him) but the title that described him. The infinitely fertile man. That's him. That's my hubby.
If you've wondered why we had 4 kids in 5 1/2 years, well, this pretty much explains it. Seems not only is hubby fertile but so am I. (Never would have guessed, would ya?) Unlike the old comic with the giant egg and all the lines the sperm use to try to get in, my eggs have apparently put up signs showing the sperms the way. "Go this way." "Fun and good times await you." "You're almost there." "Any and all welcome to the party of a new life." And possibly even a bit of false advertising, "Free beer and complete control of the remote - this way!"
Now I know what you're thinking. No really, I do. Have you ever heard of birth control? Yes, we have. Yes, we used it. Some of it. See although I get pregnant at the mere mention of babies (yes, really, it's happened) I am not a good candidate for the controlling of such things. The hormones make me quite manic-depressive. One month of that and my not-yet-hubby said he'd take his chances. After my first son was born the doctor explained there are something like 300 kinds of pill on the market, we just needed to find the right one. Sounds easy enough. Whoohoo! We have a solution. Surely one of them will work. He sent me home with a bag of samples.
What he didn't mention is you must take each one for 3 months to give it time to regulate. Unfortunately, the part that makes you a raving lunatic or have your period every other week starts right away. After 6 months we realized this was no life. The potential for scaring the baby was much too high. We couldn't risk it any more.
So I researched. Did you know someone can be allergic to spermicide? Well, they can. Let's just say it's less than pleasant and leave it at that.
The doctor refused the new IUD, told me I'd have to find another doctor if I insisted then proceeded to tell me why.
Okay, what's left? Condoms. Plain old condoms. We can do that. I believe it's been mentioned they are only 99% effective. That little 1%. That 1 out of every 100 times. Sounds like a great statistic until you break it down.
We started to do a bit of family planning around the time Alex turned one. Nine months sounded like a good time to start trying. They'd be about 2 1/2 years apart. Good distance. Of course, it could take time. Maybe even a year. Well, what's meant to be will be. Two weeks later the test came back positive. So much for planning.
This repeated itself when Tyler was around 16 months old. We knew the day exactly. The one time we hadn't been careful. People kept asking if we knew how this happened. Does it seem odd I'd occasionally want to stab my hubby in the eye with a condom wrapper when imagining the possible results of his being within 5 feet of me?
The time came. Hubby decided it was time for a permanent solution. The deal had been, if we decide we're done while I'm pregnant than I'd get the deed done. After all, although I seem to be designed for breeding (easy ~read slutty~ eggs, big healthy babies and enough milk to feed an entire nursery) mother nature forgot one thing. The kids couldn't get out. Nope. No way out. I forget the technical title but it came down to little, tiny pelvis, big giant headed babies. Disproportionate something or other. (Something the doctor assured me almost never happened - no need to worry. Ya, right.) Where was I? Oh, so in the course of the c-section, I would be "fixed". If we decided when I was not with child, hubby would go under the knife. After all, I was not about to go through surgery AGAIN, it was his turn.
Hubby made the appointment. I came to terms with the fact that this was it. No more kids. Ever. Never ever. Okay. The 5 of us were a family. This was it. I lost 30 pounds. Circled the day in bright red pen. We were careful. VERY careful. We were happy with the decision. He had his surgery. But wait...
(You knew there was more. I do have 4 kids.)
Three weeks later I was late. For the 4th time in my life. The test came back positive. When Zach was born, I too, had the chance of bearing more life taken away. My body couldn't handle more pregnancies and the scar tissue was building. Now we like think we are safe from infinitely fertile man. Of course everyone tells us of a story where some couple in our situation still got pregnant. I don't live in fear most of the time. But now and then... I worry. Not because each child is is not a gift, they are. But because that would mean I'd never be safe and I wouldn't need the birth control pills to send me flailing over the edge of insanity.
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