Why getting a vasectomy has made me feel more of a man

Coleen Rooney revealing Wayne’s secret vasectomy reminds me of when I started considering ‘the snip’ – I felt empowered by what I could give to my partner

Hearing the news this week that Wayne Rooney got a vasectomy makes me think of my own decision to go under the knife. If I’m honest, in the three years it’s been since the procedure, I’ve often wondered if it was the right thing to have done. But every time my mind wanders there, I take a moment and, with a clear head, see it as being one of the best and most important decisions of my life.

Already blessed with children from previous relationships, I met my current and forever partner. She also had two children from a previous relationship, so between us we had a larger-than-average family. This is probably not uncommon in a blended-family situation, but the realities of having such a large brood soon became apparent – the logistical obstacles and need for larger vehicles, among a host of other things.

But like plenty of new couples, we definitely both felt what I can only describe as a sort of “urge” that simmered under the surface. I guess it’s one of the most primaeval urges we feel – bringing a new life into the world with the person you love.

Coleen Rooney has revealed that her husband Wayne Rooney got a vasectomy after the 2018 birth of their fourth son, Cass (Disney+/Getty)

We spoke about it very early on in our relationship. I don’t remember if it was by chance or deliberately, but it was definitely early. I think she was pretty resolute that she was done with having any more children – possibly more so than me at the time. She was nearly 40, and we talked openly about the increased risks in pregnancy. Ultimately, we were so lucky to have a good handful of very healthy children between us. Was there any need for us to have another? Was our strength of feeling for each other clouding our rational decision making?

When you’re both having a lovely, quiet cup of tea in bed on a Sunday morning because all your children are with their respective other parents, it definitely becomes a little clearer. Well, a lot clearer. Gone are the days of car seats, warming bottles of milk, folding buggies, packing travel cots, of nappy changing and late nights of crying. No more moaning about tired legs or desperate pleas to be picked up.

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As a new couple, those lazy, peaceful Sunday mornings without the kids felt like a gift we’d not asked for, but received purely by accident. It definitely made us think very seriously about going back to “square one”. Life was getting easier – not just because our kids were all getting older and more independent, but two child-free weekends every month meant the options to travel more started to open up.

We both love to travel – it’s one of the things we first bonded over – and so once we got into the habit of going abroad more, the thought of buggies and nappies began to seem increasingly less appealing. And that’s the point – it doesn’t have to be appealing. You don’t have to go back to go forward in a relationship. Our baby time was done.

Bringing a new life into the world together would have been magical, but perhaps unnecessary. Why jeopardise something great for something that might change everything? At least, that’s the conclusion we both came to.

It was for that reason I went to see my GP one January morning (and the reason why I was black and blue down below and had to sit on a doughnut cushion for a week).

I offered to have the vasectomy. In fact until I suggested it, I’m not sure my partner had thought about it. I felt empowered by what I could give to the woman I loved: the need to not have to use hormonal contraceptives, which she wasn’t keen on; or the discomfort and potential heavy bleeding from having the coil. It felt like a proactive decision and, in many ways, a sign of my love and commitment to her.

In fact, once I started to seriously consider a vasectomy, I began to feel like it would be selfish of me not to have it done. Sitting there “fully loaded” just for “maybes” and “in case it doesn’t work out” was me putting myself first, by doing nothing – a passive egocentrism that didn’t convey how I actually felt about her.

I read up a lot about having a vasectomy (not too much though!) and discovered that the procedure itself is very straightforward. My partner dropped me at the clinic, I lay there for no more than five minutes with two nurses chatting to me about the weather, and that was it. A quick cup of tea and slice of toast and I was back in the car within 30 minutes.

We made our decision based on a number of factors, but in the end it was one of the easiest choices I’ve ever made. Do I have any regrets? None. We still very occasionally talk about what it might have been like to have a baby together, but it always ends with both of us saying “thank God we didn’t.”

I know how lucky we are to have been able to have children at all, but I often wonder why more men don’t choose to have a vasectomy. It’s like keeping a lawnmower after you’ve moved into a flat.

I feel no less of a man for having had it done. In fact, I’m happier than I’ve ever been – and have never felt more like a man by doing something so important for the person I love.