My husband went for a vasectomy but bottled it - I'm furious

My husband got as far as taking a seat in the vasectomy clinic waiting room, before deciding it really wasn’t for him. He returned home, as fertile as ever, unable to accept that I wouldn’t ever agree to “just one more baby”.

At that point we had three daughters and were 15 years into a deeply committed marriage. I was adamant: I didn’t want any more children. But it fell on deaf ears.

Even now, 10 years on - with him now 53 and me 48 - he says he still hasn’t ruled out the idea we might have another. I admire his optimism, but clearly my best hope for infertility between us is now the menopause. But having read in the news, this week, that the number of vasectomies carried out by NHS hospitals and clinics has dropped by nearly two thirds in a decade, I should probably keep schtum about that. 

'We’ve had a good run,' I said, before handing him an appointment card for a chat with our GP

Experts have observed that this trend reflects social shifts – we now have a greater awareness that our relationships might not last, and so are reluctant to take irreversible steps with our fertility. In other words, men don’t want to snip away their chances of a second family, with a new partner.

It made me wonder: perhaps my old man hasn’t ruled out the possibility of starting over with a younger woman after all. But having raised three daughters - two to adulthood and another girl heading towards her teens - he's surely had enough of all that by now?

The youngest was still in nappies when I begged him to get a vasectomy. Aged 11 now, back then she was our lovely little surprise – a third daughter, born eight years after we thought our family was complete. 

But, of course, you can have too much of good thing. And so, as my 40^th birthday approached, my husband grudgingly agreed that our days of baby roulette really ought to be put behind us.

11 things you need to know about the snip

“We’ve had a good run,” I said comfortingly, before handing him an appointment card for a chat with our GP.

I knew we were in for trouble when pre-vasectomy counseling was offered and accepted. “Isn’t it more like getting on a roller coaster ride?” I asked. “You just take a deep breath and get on with it?”

Apparently not.

There was much talk about how he’d feel if I left him, or God-forbid, died. A vasectomy would rule out having more children with another wife. And, of course, us having another baby together. “You wouldn’t have time for all that if I ran off or passed away,” I pointed out, firmly. “You’d be too busy raising the kids you’ve already fathered.”

But the seed (forgive me) of doubt had been planted and in the end he just couldn’t go ahead with it. And, despite my initial anger and frustration, actually, I grudgingly respect him for sticking to his guns and never giving up hope that one day we might have a fourth.

The twist in this tale, of course, would be for me to tell you now that I'm pregnant. I'm not. Sorry to disappoint- both you and my husband.