Living up to your biological destiny

I have to admit in all honesty, having sex to make a baby is BORING! Boring, boring, boring. Gone is that semiconscious thought that you could get pregnant when you don’t want to. The taboo element is all but shot. There is nothing naughty anymore – it’s suddenly good and sanctioned by all religious bodies. Don’t get me wrong; it can also knock your sex life up a notch. But the pressure of trying to conceive is like having sex with a gun to your head. Ok, I know some of you are going, “Right on!”. But this is not that kind of blog.

When you are purposefully trying to make a baby there is no more sitting on fence letting God or biology decide for you. This kind of low maintenance approach to procreation results in many pregnancies. Some of these pregnancies are Happy Accidents. This is a term my painting professor Oscar Walters used to describe the phenomenon of unexpectedly creating a brilliant passage by accidentally mixing the wrong color or going slightly overboard on a transparency and voila – something superb is created. Ellie was conceived in such a way. She was conceived in love and is the best Happy Accident ever. Both of us thought to ourselves, “One time without protection will be fine. We probably couldn’t get pregnant anyway.” Both of us, even more unconsciously, wanted to create a baby. When we found out we were pregnant it was a very, very, happy day.

Now, almost 4 years later we are married, own a ramshackle house and offspring numero uno needs a sibling. We get to live out our biological purpose instead of playing the titillating game of ovulation roulette. Some new age books I read well before I ever had sex described how there is this great burst of light in each person’s aura as they make love. As husband and wife reach the climax of their lovemaking this big supernova of energy results in conception. I say, “Whoooeey!” It sucks. It’s more like, “Honey, it’s time.” Or, “Sorry Hon, it’s not time.” And better wrap it all up in the missionary position, please. To quote Monty Python, “Every sperm is sacred!” No more being handcuffed to the chandelier or thrown up against a wall in mad spontaneity. So for those of you slogging it out to fulfill your biological purpose and just want to get on with it, here are some interesting conception tips imparted upon us from various well-wishers:

1. One of our new Bostonian friends told me of her great Irish uncle, who, after coitus, would lift his wife’s legs up and give her a “bit of a sheeaaake”. No lie – 13 kids in that family.

2. Know when you ovulate. It’s different for every woman. The first way to get a clue about this is to know what Day One of your cycle is. Day one is the day when you get a full period. Start counting from there. The drips and drabs that may appear the day before do not count.

3. This one might possibly be my favorite and is from my doctor. If you both climax at the same time it seems that the cervix, in it’s ecstasy, acts like a big Hoover vacuum and sucks up all the sperm.

4. Doc also warned not to use KY, Astroglide, Surgilube or anything else. Even though the bottles of said lubricants may claim no spermacide, all are antibacterial and more effective for birth control than the sponge, killing up to 70% of the little guys. He then told me what the ultimate lubrication was. Luckily it’s free and available everywhere.

5. Today a friend of mine, an excellent RN, filled me in on some interesting gender differences. It seems that girl sperm, meaning those carrying the *X chromosome, plan their journey. They hang out a while and get to know the landscape. They are in no hurry, they are there for the long haul and can live up to 5 days. Male sperm (Y chromosome carriers) are in a race to the death. They only live up to 24 hours so it’s a mad dash to the finish. Not so surprising, eh? So if you want to make a girl baby, have sex a few days before you ovulate but not the day of. If you want a boy, figure out exactly what day you ovulate and go, go, go on that day.

6. If you get pregnant and you are over 35 it is called a Geriatric Pregnancy. I would bet money it was a man who decided to call it that. He was probably making up for the fact that male sperm are

wusses.

Ok – there you have it. Of course I am not an expert and views expressed in this post are in no way shape or form representative of any medical body. And lastly, for those of you reading this and in doing so have come up with a million ways to slag Dave (you know who you are) go easy on him. He needs to keep his energy up. ;-)

*If you’ve no idea what I am talking about, please do not procreate. There are enough Dumb Asses in the world. For an example see the 14th bullet in the About Me post.