Side Twelve: Uncalculated Sex

Please, you all knew a post about sex was coming (ahem) sooner or later. While developing and writing this blog, I realized that sex as a barren couple has several bright sides. By saying "sex" and using broad strokes (ahem), I was doing a disservice to this bright side. There is spontaneous sex, kitchen sex, couch sex, loud sex, morning sex, middle-of-the-night sex, afternoon sex, and today's post: uncalculated sex.

In those early days after Husband and I decided that we would welcome a child into our world, the calendar was my friend. I knew when my cycle was, what days were good for conception, which ones were not. I could tell you without a breath of hesitation when my last period ended. "10 days after" became a mantra. I took my temperature, watched for fluid changes (I am sorry male readers for that one), and tracked my month for days that were good to conceive a boy and ones that were good to conceive a girl. It was madness.

Husband and I also decided that we would not become one of those couples who obsess over when to have sex because that day was the best day to conceive. We agreed that when the mood hit, we'd get it on. I had to restrain myself from yelling "do me now!", especially as the months melted away and we remained unconceived. Sex started to become a chore, and not something that Husband and I loved. And really, where's the fun in that?

Then the news came - we were unable to conceive naturally. After the tears and the "why me?s" a sense of liberation washed over me. I no longer had to watch the calendar, my underpants, and try to make obligatory sex sexy. We were free from sex coming with an equation: 11 days after last period + want of a boy x basal temperature = Wednesday sex.

Even couples who are not trying to conceive but are fertile have to watch the calendar. How many days has it been? When are the birth control pills running out? When is the doctor's appointment for the vasectomy. We infertile couples worry not about pills and days. We have sex whenever we want, moving rhythmically to the knowledge that all the sex in the world cannot produce a child. Hurray for this bright side!

Now, if you'll excuse me....

Side Eight: My Body is My Own

Yes, yes, I am sure there will be some mothers who will be horrified by what I consider to be an Upside to Barrenness. My body is my own.

I have sat through mother friends discussing the state of their nipples, their episiotomy, their third degree tears. I still shudder at that one. I have heard them discuss the fact that jumping jacks are off limits apres bebe, although who does jumping jacks after age ten. They laugh cautiously at the fact that hearty laughter can bring on dribbles. They talk about the time little baby's mouth was bloody from their raw nipples. They talk about how many stitches it took to put them back together. All this for a child. No, thank you.

The Author.

The tipping point for me was when I saw the commercial for vaginal mesh. I went dizzy, then I realized that being barren means that vaginal mesh will likely never be an option for me. Thank the goddess. My vagina will never have to be stretched to nightmarish proportions to bring a child into this world, therefore leaving my lady bits intact and my underpants dry. That is a very bright upside to barrenness.