Born on State Highway 1

Canada’s Governor General, Michaëlle Jean, gave this address on January 13th 2010 in response to the Haitian earthquake.

Jean was born in Haiti and lived there until the age of 10, when forced to flee to Canada as a refugee.

Canadian press outlets are saying that 1,400 Canadians are presumed dead in Haiti.

Haitians comprise the biggest immigrant population in Quebec.

In Creole, Jean says, “Ayisyen Ayisènn. Pran couraj. Pa lagé.” which translates as, “Haitians, take courage, don’t give up.”

Within minutes of my son being born — December 18 2009 after a forty minute labour and a harrowing drive to the hospital — I asked the doctor, only somewhat in jest, if I could hop on the table and have her right then and there give me a vasectomy.

“Wait two years,” she said. “That’s what I always tell them. Wait two years.”

I haven’t stopped scratching my head since, to say nothing of my soon-to-be filleted testicles.

Why two years? I’m not sure.

Some background. I’m 30 years old. I have a daughter who is almost 3 years old. My partner and I get along well. I’m not dependent on any illegal substances. I have life insurance and a will.

And so. I’m pretty sure that I can handle the idea of having a 12- and a 10-year-old when I’m 40. But that’s the limit. I don’t want to be 40 with an 8-year-old, let alone a 4-year-old.

In short, I want to move on. Pass down genes. Check. Do something else. Check.

Again I ask, why two years, then?

The obvious reason is that I might change my mind. Well, maybe. It isn’t likely though. I’m comfortable with the decision.

I’ve discussed it with people. An old friend of mine got a vasectomy about 3 years ago without having had any kids. He didn’t tell his parents. I always thought that might mean he wasn’t so comfortable with the decision. His advice: don’t shake a batch until they say it’s okay to do so, because it’s really painful.

I’ll remember that.

The other potential reason for the two-year rule is macabre: maybe there will be something wrong with the new baby. Maybe he’ll fall off a cliff. Maybe he’ll like Pat Conroy novels.

I don’t find that convincing. His life will be as precarious as any. Waiting two years will not make a lick of difference.

It is weird to be considering such matters. I remember when my stepdad went in for the snip. The doctor who performed it had been doing it since before it was legal. After two days of hearing my mum and me make jokes about going for a bike ride, he lost his temper.

I’ll remember that, too.

Perhaps I’ll skip the doctor. Surely I can do it myself. It’s amazing what one can find these days on YouTube.