End of October, late one evening, my Civil Disobedience ends

Okay, I give up! I need sex. Now. Tonight.

“You win,” I proclaim to my husband.

“Win what?” he says absently.

“Let’s have sex. Now.”

“But we just ate.”

So I invoke the magic words, “I might be fertile, you know.”

And that’s that. Am I really fertile? I honestly don’t know, which as we all know can be a teeny little problem when you’re TTC.


At work, I surf the Internet (c’mon, we all do it!). Here’s what I find:

  • Pre-conception is now its own industry: stress relief, yoga, ovulation predictor kits, naturopathic herb, acupuncture and more are being hocked to women who don’t know why they’re not knocked up.
  • There are a lot of desperate women out there who want to be knocked up.
  • The desperate women’s chat rooms are whiny and depressing. How on earth could G’s friends have found any comfort in that?
  • There is a lot of unsubstantiated information on conception advice, apart from timing. Hardly anywhere do I find tough, hard, medical facts to support “helpful” advice from friends that got pregnant. Every article is presaged by “there is no definite medical evidence to suggest…” This is where people get crazy ideas about no longer colouring their hair or cutting out coffee.

Clearly the Internet is a waste of time and I get back to work, which is a good thing as that day I have to finish a presentation to the Board.


A few weeks later, 10 am at work

Fuck. My period is late. What if IT happens this month? I am sitting on the toilet, disappointed that it’s just drippy mucous and not blood. I know a lot about mucous now. According to the pregnancy sites and chat rooms, a woman’s cervix releases mucous at various stages of consistency throughout the month, and this consistency is to be analyzed to determine what stage of fertility one is at. It seems like a lot of work. Just remembering which stage is which is hard enough. I think if it’s clear and filmy, you’re fertile; when it’s dry and white, it’s over, baby. Or is it the other way around?

Whatever the stage, this detection method is entirely useless, since when you’re in a particular stage, it’s too late already! You have to catch it just before it changes. That’s why I didn’t pay too much attention to the articles. It’s pointless. The preconception writers (who are they, anyway?) counsel women to check their mucous every day, record it and after a few months, infer a timeline of fertility. I can’t imagine doing that. In fact, I will never do that. I mean, who has the time? I don’t know if the husband has been reading about this; he’d probably think it’s some kinky fertility sex thing. Well, I’m not sharing.

10:05 am

But what if I were pregnant? Would it be so bad? Apparently nothing shows for about four months and that’s almost halfway through. Hmmm. Would I want a girl or a boy? Definitely a girl. Easier. Cuter. More fun to dress. I can imagine a girl listening to me; but a boy just might defy me and stretch me to the limits of my (non-existent) patience. Everyone says you acquire oodles of patience when it’s your own kid, but you know what? I don’t believe them. Look at the number of babies that are shaken to death by their parents. Of course, they’re to blame, but clearly patience is not everyone’s main strength.

Alright, I’m not thinking about this anymore. There is nothing I can do at this point except get back to work.