The husband and I were having dinner at this hainanese curry rice stall (the famous one with the long queue at Upper Serangoon Road) last week when this elderly aunty saw me carrying the baby and came over to start a conversation.
You know how elderly aunties love babies and they love to give advice about babies and while I love showing off my babies to sweet little old ladies, some days, I’m just not really feeling talky because I just want to shove food into my face before the baby gets all sweaty and fussy and there goes my quiet, peaceful dinner.
The conversations usually go like this (in mandarin):
Aunty: So cute, how many months?
Me: 2 months. *smiley face*
Aunty: Is this your first kid?
One must choose the answer to this question wisely because yes usually means “please give me unsolicited advice on how I shouldn’t prop the baby on my lap precariously like this because my thigh might spasm and drop her or worse, food might fall onto her face when I eat.” And no means “please ask me the next question, which is how many kids I already have.”
I smiled again and mumbled something incoherent like “不是” with a semi silent 不 so she might think I’ve got a speech impediment and stop talking to me out of pity.
But this aunty had razor sharp hearing, so she asked the next question anyway.
Aunty: Oh, how many kids do you have?
I’m ashamed to say that I considered lying and saying 3 because 2-3 kids is like the magic number for them to leave you alone. One kid and you need advice on how to parent, but 2-3 kids, you’re mostly safe. But then if you say something ridiculous like 5 kids, this leads to a whole other conversation about how people these days don’t have 5 kids anymore am I for real?
Lying is bad, so I took another spoonful of food and in between chews, mumbled “I have 5 kids” with another half smile.
Aunty: 5?? Can’t tell that you have 5!!
And then things suddenly got very interesting. “你有没有去绑?” (did you tie?), she asked. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly that I should be tying but I assumed it was like some postpartum jamu wrap thing so I said “没有,很麻烦” (no, too much of a hassle.)
“五个应该去绑” (after 5, you should go tie), she went on. “我绑了四十多年,很好” (I’ve tied for over forty years)
At this point, I figured she was trying to solicit business for her jamu services so I politely said no thanks, I’m ok.
“不会麻烦,你绑了很好,给你的丈夫外面睡几个月可以了” (it’s not a hassle, it’ll be good after you tie, just let you husband sleep outside for a few months), she added.
This conversation was getting super weird, and then it dawned upon me that she was telling me to get my tubes tied, which is exactly the kind of conversation I did not plan to have with a random aunty while grabbing a quick dinner. I thought about telling her that yes, I have in fact gotten my tubes tied, thanks for the advice (even though the husband will not be pleased about the sleeping outside for months), but then I was getting to the end of my very uncomfortable dinner so I smiled again and said thanks before making a quick getaway.
My point of this story is that when random elderly ladies start telling you to get a ligation, maybe it’s time to get it done.
And also, yes I’ve gotten it done. Which is to say that there ain’t gonna be no baby #6 happening here because this factory is closed for good.
***
Before I had the ligation done, I was searching for information on getting my tubes tied but not many people talk about it so I didn’t really have much to work with.
So if you’re considering a tubal ligation, here are some things you need to know.
1. It really hurts.
Be prepared for the pain – it’s not as bad as a c-section but way worse than a normal delivery. I asked my doctor a few times about the pain and he was all “don’t worry about it, it’s very minor, just a tiny incision.” LIES.
Right after the delivery, I was wheeled into the operating theatre to get the ligation done while the epidural was still at work. They got me all prepped and the someone was prodding my stomach area to test the pain medication and I was supposed to be completely numb but I could feel everything, which was terrifying. It was like one of those nightmares when you get cut up while still awake so I was all like “stop, stop, don’t cut anything, I can feel pain!!” and next thing I knew, it was 3 hours later and I woke up to a terrible pain in my stomach.
Apparently the epidural didn’t quite hold up so they put me under GA for the surgery. If I had known GA was required, I might have made the husband go with the vasectomy. For the next 5 days, I took every pain medication I was given because the pain was pretty intense.
2. It’s called KEYhole for a reason.
I was under the impression that a keyhole surgery was kind of like a tiny hole but turns out, it’s more like a big ass key. When I woke up from the anaesthesia, I couldn’t sit up without wincing in pain for a week and when I finally removed the bandage, I found the incision wound to be about the width of a 50 cent coin right under my belly button.
I suppose it earns me some street cred when I’m in a bikini, but know that you’ll be dealing with a pretty obvious scar after it’s all over.
3. Be sure that you’re sure.
If you’re not 5000% sure about this, don’t do it. But if you are, go celebrate because this means never having to deal with condoms (ewww so gross), spermicide (way more gross), the pill (nauseating), patches (equally nauseating), IUDs (no thanks!) and the whole I’m-late-am-I-pregnant-am-I-not situation ever again.
How do I feel about doing this?
It feels right this time. We were really close to having a ligation done after Theo (we had decided on it and I was about to be wheeled into the OR after the delivery) but right as the very last moment, we both felt like we wanted to hold out for one more baby. And I’m glad we did. :)
This time, we both knew for sure that we were done making more babies. Over the past 3 months, the husband has asked me several times if I regret it and it’s true, every time I watch the kids loving on each other, my ovaries will override my logical brain but it’s time for me to listen to my brain so no, no regrets here.
I might just cry a little bit when this last baby grows up.