As I write this, my husband is wandering around the house in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He's in some pain, and I've just asked him if he's taken any of the prescription painkillers he got from the surgeon Wednesday. He told me he's on his way to pop another Motrin combined with a Percocet, apparently the Holy Grail of pain relief... at least for him right now. For the past four days, he has been wearing an athletic supporter underneath his underwear. He must continue to do so until a week passes since the surgery he voluntarily underwent on the most private, sensitive part of his body... all so that we might one day hope to have a baby together.

Almost eleven years ago, when my husband was still married to his ex wife, they decided that he should have a vasectomy. At that time, my husband was just shy of thirty years of age, but he had three children and his wife was quickly and easily impregnated. She seemed to have a hard time with pregnancy. He thought that having a vasectomy was the right and loving thing to do-- to spare her from having to deal with the trauma of another pregnancy. She didn't object when he brought up the subject. The procedure was carried out at Fort Lewis, Washington. It took less than fifteen minutes, and my husband was effectively made sterile. He immediately regretted doing it, but was prepared to live with his decision.

Fast forward to 1999, my husband's marriage to his ex wife was on the rocks and they separated. It had never been a strong union to begin with, but six years after the vasectomy, the marriage was truly finished. In June 2000, my husband and his ex wife were formally divorced. Two years later, he and I were living together, engaged.

I came into the engagement knowing about the vasectomy. In fact, my husband told me what he had done when we first met. I have to admit, at first I was disappointed. I have always pictured myself as a mother. In fact, I had always pictured myself married well before the age of 30, which is the age that I was when I got married. My heart did sink when he told me that he'd been sterilized. But I had fallen in love with my husband and I found that I didn't care that he'd had a vasectomy.

On February 25th 2002, right before he gave me my engagement ring, my husband visited an Army urologist at Walter Reed Army Medical Center and asked about having his vasectomy reversed. The military has a program for servicemembers that allows them to have elective procedures done at no cost. It's a win/win situation. The military's physicians and dentists get to hone their skills while they fulfill their service requirements, and servicemembers get to have procedures like LASIK, dental implants, certain plastic surgeries, portions of infertility treatments, and yes, vasectomy reversals, done without incurring huge amounts of debt. The only caveat is that there is a huge waiting list and the procedures have to be squeezed in when the doctors aren't needed elsewhere.

A doctor examined my husband and approved him for a reversal with one stipulation. Since he'd had his vasectomy done so long ago, he was a candidate for vasoepididymostomy, or VE, a surgery that is more complicated than the run of the mill vasectomy reversal, the vasovasostomy, or VV. When microsurgeons perform VEs, they connect the vas deferens to the epididymis instead of just connecting the two ends of the vas deferens together. The VE is usually done on men who have a great deal of scar tissue. It offers less of a chance of success than the VV, but men with older vasectomies usually need them. This was actually a blessing for us, because it put my husband at the top of a very long waiting list.

My husband and I were officially engaged on March 13th, 2002 and married on November 16th, 2002. All the while, we waited for that important call from the urology clinic, letting us know that he could have his vasectomy reversal... but the call never came. My husband would call the clinic, but no one would answer. He would leave messages, but no one would return his calls. It became very frustrating for us as I began to hear my biological clock ticking.

I started to think about going to a private doctor, but that was out of the question. We couldn't afford to do that. Insurance won't pay for vasectomy reversals and we have just enough money to get by every month as it is, although our financial situation is steadily improving. Even if we did have the money, my husband doesn't have the time. He can take the time to see a military doc, but it's harder for him to go see a civilian doctor. He'd have to use leave to do it. I resigned myself to waiting.

When he finally got through to the clinic last spring, he asked about the waiting list for vasectomy reversals. The receptionist told him that the reversals were, understandably, on hold because all of the surgeons were either in Iraq or Afghanistan. There was only one Army doctor who did reversals in the Washington, DC area and he was in Afghanistan. She didn't know when he'd be back in the area. She advised my husband to call back in the fall. When he called last fall, he was advised to call back in the spring.

As advised, my husband kept calling and calling this spring, and leaving messages... Finally, last Thursday, he said that he'd left a message at the clinic again because no one was there.

I sighed and said, "I'm beginning to think it's just not meant to be. I don't think I'm going to be a mother... at least not of my own kids."

My husband suggested, "Well, why don't we just save up money for IVF (in-vitro fertilization)?"

I thought about it for a second and said, "Are you doing this just for me, or do you really want to have a baby? Because I don't want you to feel like it's your duty to do this. I came into the marriage knowing about the vasectomy. You have three kids and I'm prepared, at least for right now, to deal with being childless."

And my husband said, "I'd really like to give you a shot at being a mother. But I'd also like to have a baby with you."

"Well, I don't want you to feel like you have to do it. IVF is a big financial and emotional commitment. It doesn't always work. I want you to have the vasectomy reversal if you have the opportunity, but I don't think we should go overboard." I said.

The next evening, my husband came home and after he'd unwound a bit, he said very casually, "By the way, guess who called me?"

"I don't know." I said. "Who?"

"The urology clinic at Walter Reed. The doc is back from the war, but he's about to take a fellowship out of town. I gave the receptionist all my contact information again. Maybe he can squeeze me in before he leaves." he said hopefully.

"Maybe!" I said. "Isn't it funny this should happen after last night's conversation?"

"Yeah..." he agreed.

Early Monday morning, my husband got an urgent email from the urology clinic to call them immediately. My huband is typically at work by 6:00am, so he got her message right away and called her as soon as he received it. The receptionist was impressed by how early he was at work. She told him that thanks to a cancellation, there was a slot open on Wednesday and he was welcome to it if he wanted it! He had to report to Walter Reed Monday afternoon for pre-op tests. If all went well, he'd be in surgery Wednesday morning at Fort Meade, Maryland.

Wednesday morning, just before 6:00am, we arrived at Fort Meade's Same Day Surgery Center in what was once the post's hospital but is now an ambulatory medical center. Two cheerful nurses greeted us; one escorted my husband into a pre-admission office and interviewed him. Knowing that he has hypertension, she carefully took his blood pressure, looking for signs that it would be too high for the doctor to safely complete the surgery. We prayed that it would be below the acceptable limits because it was the one medical issue that might cancel the procedure. His blood pressure was high, but not too high. The nurse commented that my husband's hands were freezing. The poor man was very nervous, since he had never been under general anesthetic and the surgeons were about to operate on a very delicate part of his body. The nurse very carefully explained what would happen to him. She gave him a reassuring smile and told him he'd be okay. Of course, she also explained that we were not in an actual hospital and if an emergency were to happen, we would have to go to Washington, DC. That day was not a good day to go to DC, since Reagan's body was being flown in to be laid in the Capitol for three days. Traffic would be an even bigger mess than usual. We told the nurse that we understood and then said a silent prayer that the surgery would be totally uneventful.

My husband commented that he felt lucky to be having the surgery and the nurse agreed and said, "Today is the surgeon's last day. He's having his farewell party this afternoon. I don't think he's doing any more surgeries in this area because he's going on his fellowship. And I don't think he's going to be replaced, either. All of the surgeons are at war."

At that point, my husband and I looked at each other and I said, "Wow... we are really lucky. God is smiling on us."

The nurse continued, "You know, a lot of guys have vasectomies, thinking that they don't want to have any more kids and then they end up divorced, or one of their children die, or they have some other reason for wanting to have it reversed... and they get out and find out how expensive it is to have the reversal surgery and they regret having that vasectomy. And the ones who are still in are going to find that they have to go to a civilian doctors because right now we can't spare the doctors to do these elective procedures. That's why I always advise people to think really hard about it before they have it done."

The nurse then escorted us into what was obviously once a hospital ward. There were about ten hospital recliners in the room. She gave my husband a robe, slippers, and a gown. We pulled the curtain around us and my husband changed into his hospital garb. He hugged and kissed me-- told me how much he loved me and said he had a really good feeling. I couldn't help but think that he looked adorable as he waited for the gurney to pick him up. A first class private came and picked my husband up and took him to surgery. I inadvertantly got one last peek at his privates as they were before the surgery as he got on the gurney, before the private covered him with the sheet and commented that he didn't want to give everybody a peep show. Darn hospital gowns! Then I waited, read magazines, and watched CNN as Ronald Reagan's body was flown across country for his funeral in Washington, DC.

A couple of hours later, my husband's surgeon emerged to tell me that he was out of surgery and doing fine. He said that he hadn't had to do the VE after all. My husband had looked so good that he'd done the less complicated VV procedure, which offered us more of a chance at success at conception. He said there was an 80-90% chance that he would once again ejaculate sperm. Whether or not that will mean that I will get pregnant is another matter. It could turn out that after all of this time, he will have developed antibodies against his sperm. But a technical success is very likely, and after everything that's happened, I feel that it's likely that we will have a child someday. I thanked the doctors, both of whom greeted me and treated me with tremendous respect.

An hour later, my very groggy husband was wheeled back to the recliner. It took another hour for him to recover enough so that he could be wheeled to the car and driven home. The doctor granted him two weeks of leave. I must comment that the staff at that clinic was wonderful. I have experienced plenty of military medical facilities and this one and its staff ranks among the very best I have ever seen. Every single nurse was smiling, patient, and friendly. They were a pleasure to deal with and took wonderful care of both of us and the several children who were also there to have surgeries.

So now my husband is recovering from what must have been a terrifying surgery that we have been waiting for him to have for over two years that ended up dropping clean out of the sky. He says that he has no regrets-- in fact, he feels whole again.

We found out the day of his surgery that we also scored tickets to the Army Birthday Ball-- we had been on the waiting list and two tickets came through. The ball was on June 19th, the day before my 32nd birthday. We went last year and had a wonderful time. We didn't do much dancing, but we dressed up, listened to Chris Isaak, and enjoyed the company of some great people. The Army has been good to my husband, and he has been wonderful to me.

We may still never have a child, but I am so grateful to my husband for doing this for us. And I am so grateful to the Army for giving us this second chance to try for a family of our own. I am grateful to God for the opportunities that we have been blessed to have. I feel like we have been given a precious gift and I hope and pray that we are able to use it wisely. June 2004 has been one hell of a lifechanging month for us... one that neither of us will ever forget. Life is funny that way.

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