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 Eleven: Clean Floors

Even as a child, I hated cluttered floors. Being the oldest of three, most times the toys I had outgrown were still in use. And those outgrown toys remained on the floor, despite my mother's vain attempt to stay tidy. There was always one toy that angered me the most. Lego.

You remember this.... stepping or kneeling on one of the small blocks. Your skin had six perfect holes in your knee, surrounded by a perfect rectangle. You screamed, yelled, kicked at these little blocks. Now that G is all about Lego, a shiver goes up my spine.

I've watched my siblings and their spouses walk across a floor. They don't walk as much as shuffle across, as if they are kicking away any hurtful item on which they may step. With each step, they move dolls, trucks, horses, blocks and every other toy out of their path with their feet like those shovels on the front of a truck.

The Author's dream floor. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com

The worst are balls. Goodtimes, being the younger of the children, gets the toys the other two have outgrown. One of his favourite toys spits out six balls. He likes to bat these across the room, and well after he's home in bed, I come across a wayward ball in the middle of the floor. After he leaves, there are balls all over the house. I'm just glad he enjoyed himself.

Dammit. Lego will be in our lives for years to come, now that G is into it. Then it will be E, then Goodtimes. I just love knowing that in our home - our adult home - there will be no stray toys on the floor to puncture our feet, roll our ankles or tangle our toes. Floors that lack danger? That's a bright side to barrenness.

Side Ten: Restaurants

My Sister recently moved to northern Manitoba for work. Before she left, we went for breakfast. G was in play group, and I foolishly thought that we could have a nice, quiet breakfast with one child - just E. You see, I have never really been to restaurants with two adults and one kid. It's always been a slew of children and a bunch of adults to reign them in. I thought with this ratio, we could have a civilized, adult meal. After all, the adults outnumbered the child, so adults should win, right?


E was in a high chair, but then tried to climb out by almost tipping it over. She walked around the restaurant saying hi to everyone, but came back when people ignored her. She ate french toast with her mom, but then tried to pour syrup on the table. She ate some berries until she tired of them and smashed them in her tiny fingers. With syrupy, berry-stained hands, she grabbed for the salt, the pepper, the sugar packets, the milk cups, the flowers, the specials board, my wallet, her mom's sunglasses. This continued until our food was gobbled, our coffee slurped. We dined and dashed - with paying, of course.

Last night, Husband and I went to dinner. It was a lovely place, and we enjoyed ourselves despite the children around us. But watching the family with the two little boys - about 6 and 8 - made me see yet another bright side to barrenness.

The younger boy was the ham of this family. He was making faces, making bubbles in his glass of water, saying "cute" things. He didn't even stop when the food came. He started harping about wanting chicken bones (read: chicken wings) and yelped about it until his mother blew on a wing until it was cool. I watched the mother. She was eating quickly, grabbing napkins, saving glasses of water from falling off the table, shushing the younger kid, getting ketchup for the older kid... it was exhausting to watch. Husband and I got our meals and enjoyed our serenity.

Being able to talk and enjoy another adult's company over a meal is a very bright side of being barren.