Surprise on a Stick

The Story Behind the Vasectomy Song

(Why did I think this was a good idea? It wasn’t even our night to serve at the restaurant.)

I recently ran across this live recording from an event I spoke at years ago. I couldn’t let a musical masterpiece like this die of natural causes.

So here’s the song.

What follows—what changed my life forever—is the story behind the track.

Celibacy OR Vasectomy?

Two honest-to-goodness options offered up by a weary mom of two little boys and their newborn baby brother.

I remember vividly the bleary-eyed mornings, the bone-tired evenings, and the zombie shuffle from the bedroom to the crib at ungodly intervals throughout the night. I’m ready for a nap just thinking about it.

So after bringing home baby Chandler, I was….I should say WE were…quite clear that our little family was complete. For me, it was probably less a feeling of completion and more a feeling of exhaustion that propelled by search for some good reliable birth control.

We determined that vasectomy was the simplest, most fool-proof option. Other than celibacy. Which was off the table, apparently.

The choice was made. The deed was done.

I called the urologist to make sure Chip was shooting blanks before we went away for a night alone, fully prepared to sleep in separate beds if the answer was, “Nope, still the real deal.” Doc gave the all-clear, and I didn’t think another thing about it.

Until Chandler, my youngest son, went to kindergarten.

Me: Babe, I want another kid.

Chip: I’m not getting a reversal.

Me: Can we pray about adopting?

Chip: Sure (wink, wink), we can pray about that.

Meanwhile, I went about loving life with my three busy boys—Chase, Chance and Chandler. And, I wrote this in my journal:

God, help us know if it’s in your plan for us to adopt another child. And even though Chip had a vasectomy, if it’s in your plan for me to be pregnant again, that could happen.

In December 2000, our family went to see the boys’ Aunt Cho in New York City. NYC is magical during the holidays—lights, lights and more lights! We went ice skating in Central Park, saw the Rockefeller Plaza Christmas tree, and ate like it was our full-time job. I recall one dinner at a Brazilian steakhouse where I’m fairly certain I consumed my weight in grilled meat.

So I wasn’t at all surprised back home in Cali when I couldn’t get my pants zipped for a staff Christmas dinner with my husband’s work. Nothing I pulled out of my closet fit right.

Two possibilities emerged in my mind:

1) I ate copious amounts of rich food in NYC, so of course…this.

2) I’m probably bloated from early perimenopause.

I shared my situation with a friend who responded with what I thought was a completely ridiculous suggestion.

Friend: Go get a pregnancy test.

Me: Why would I need a pregnancy test? Chip had a vasectomy years ago.

Friend: Take one for the heck of it. Just to be sure.

After the staff dinner, I ran to the drugstore and grabbed a pregnancy test and a box of Pamprin. Since I was certain the test would be negative, I was ready to nip that premature perimenopausal bloating in the bud. NOTE: Can we please tell everyone involved that the phrase is “nip in the bud” NOT “nip in the butt.” Let’s put that one to bed, shall we?

I did what you do with the stick and waited.

And there it was. As clear as day. The plus sign.

When I say that this was one of the most unexpected moments of sheer ecstasy and joy I’ve ever experienced, know that it is a gross understatement. Against all odds, I was holding an answer to an innocently uttered prayer in my hand.

I ran upstairs, shook Chip awake, and showed him the stick. He still recalls feeling unsure what was happening. Confused and only partially awake, he pulled the covers back up and resumed his slumber.

I ran across the street to my friend’s house and showed her the plus sign. Being fully awake and aware, she shared in my elation.

Next morning, I hot-footed it to the drugstore, unopened Pamprin in hand, and said to the clerk, “In a strange turn of events, I’d like to exchange this Pamprin for another pregnancy test.”

Second test, same as the first. This was for real.

In the light of day, being of sound mind and body, Chip asked, “How’d that happen?!” Pretty sure he knew.

We sat the three boys down in the living room on the well-loved cream-colored hand-me-down leather couch and broke the news. Chandler, having been a baby when Dad’s shop closed for business, didn’t remember a thing. The other two had a vague understanding that Dad went to a doctor a long time ago because we weren’t going to have any more kids. The math wasn’t math-ing.

Chase: But remember, Dad had that ice pack on his ding?

Me: Yes, son, he did. And you guys are gonna have a little brother or sister.

I’ll never forget the day we found out we were having a baby girl. It didn’t matter to me or Chip either way. I love being a boy mom! AND…when they said, “It’s a girl,” my heart was so full. I sensed this message from God so clearly…

Every time you look at her, remember how much I love you.

So there it is. The story behind that smash hit…The Vasectomy Song.

I could have never dreamed up such a glorious detour. Often, it’s just this, the plan gone awry, that leads to the best surprise ever.

I also know all too well that surprises don’t always come wrapped as bundles of joy. Whether you are navigating a hard season where the next small step is just brushing your teeth, or you are staring in absolute shock at the unexpected thing that turns out to be a miracle—life rarely goes according to our plan. Either way, it’s the power of the next small step that moves you forward.