The eternal debate about whether or not to have a second is almost over. I sit and wait and look at my husband’s cute fluffy bottom peeking out of the hospital gown that only has three small bows at the back. He is embarrassed but that’s to be expected; he doesn’t, after all, have need to wear a dress all that often … especially not one that reveals his bottom.

Yes, he is having the snip. My extreme body piercing has been removed to open up the energy flow and allow my body to function ‘how it should’ … although, after 20 years of hormones and IUDs, I have little idea how that should be. I will no longer be responsible for pregnancy prevention. Wow, that feels good! Seven months have slipped by so stealthily since this discussion hit our radar … seven months of no intimacy compounded on top of all the months prior when my cervical body piercing was threatening to pierce my uterine walls as well and the pain was … hmm … it just was. But it was seven months ago when sterilization was considered as an alternative and I was determined it should be me to go this route since I was 36 at the time which means my use-by date is almost up and my husband is capable of procreating well into his 60s – he swears this is not his wish but I don’t want to be the one to stand in the way when my shelf life expires. So he has cryogenically frozen his sperm in the event that the procedure is not reversible and he now has a back-up plan for when he meets his second wife.

It’s perhaps less the liberal and more the new cynical me at play here … or maybe just the pragmatist in me.