Duh IVF failure causes depression. But interesting that increased stress doesn’t make you less likely to get preggo.
Outside of having the “proper equipment” for babymaking, the other key ingredient to trying to conceive is the obvious…S.E.X. and it’s many synonyms: Intercourse. Doing the deed. Bumping uglies. Putting some beef in the taco.
Whatever you choose to call it, unless you end up going down the medically-assisted route, this is your only other option to getting knocked up.
So, after months and months of trying to conceive, sometimes it takes a little motivation and inspiration to keep the love alive. No longer does playing footsy during a football game turn into a romp on the couch. Gone are the days when grinding on the dance floor of a club causes you both to rush home to get it on. Well…there might still be a little grinding on the dance floor. But spontaneous sex? Well in the days of babymaking – “spontaneous” requires work and preparation – Setting the mood. Cajoling with dinner. Enticing with some cute undies.
Why all this effort? Because the thing that we are all really trying to achieve is that elusive, plus sign on the pee stick.
Over the many months of trying, Authors S&M and their respective spouses have come up with interesting ways to “keep the love alive”.
1. Author M: Lingerie vs Jerseys (aka, How to convince your husband you’re sexier in sweats)Because my bedroom attire is flannel pajamas, we negotiated that I buy a pair of sweatpants of my husband’s favorite football team with matching t-shirt. They ran out of my size so yes – they were both TWO sizes TOO big for me. Whether or not he liked it, this is was the best he was gonna get. The lingerie to this day continues to collect dust.
2. Author S: “Dance” lessons
Nope, not talking about the Waltz or Bhangra. Not even Salsa or the very sexy Bachata. Somehow I got roped into joining a group of my girlfriends for a striptease class at the local “gym”. It all seemed like good old fashioned clean fun with my friends until the statuesque and very stripper-looking instructor walked in. At one point, I was practically making out with the chair I was using as a prop. How did it go when I pulled out those moves for hubby one night? Picture me accidentally kicking him in the face as I tried to swing my legs around in a “sexy” move.
Clearly, I should leave dancing to the pros.
3. Author M: Booze.A booze induced altered state of mind is the best aphrodiasic! CAUTION: This is a fine science and may backfire especially when you’re the only one drinking (excessively) and your husband comes home to a stinky uncoordinated mess. Moderation alone and excessiveness together is the key.
4. Author S: Speeches
My husband has a special way of sending off his swimmers into the dark recesses of my uterus. He offers them a speech:
“Men! You will be launching the largest aerial battle in this history of mankind. Mankind — that word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. And we will not go quietly into the night!”
Sound vaguely familiar? Think Will Smith and Bill Pullman movie from 1990s. Or, if you know this speech all too well because you ALSO have to hear it around the same time every month, my heart goes out to you.
5. Author M: The Forbidden FruitPretend you’re sleeping, it works every time.
6. Author S: Game of Thrones
Have you noticed how some of these HBO and Showtime shows are practically like watching porn?! Gone are the days when I have to agree to watch sports so we can cuddle up on the couch. Nothing like watching rampaging half naked men in loin cloths wreak havoc amongst poor village folk to get us in the mood!
So there you have it!!! If you haven’t found something that works for you now you have some additional ideas to work on 🙂
Till next time!
Love Authors S&M
Yes I know… it’s been a while. But we are finally back after a crazy few weeks. Thought I’d kick it off by getting back to my timeline….
The only reality show I will indulge in is the Kardashians – this is my dirty little secret. The show is like a train wreck you can’t look away from. Last fall, I found myself catching up on an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians where I learned with America that Khloe Kardashian’s hormone levels were off and consequently she didn’t ovulate every month. For a moment, I felt bad for Khloe. Poor Khloe – she had to get poked and prodded and got stuck with needles. But then during a commercial break I changed my mind. Ok you don’t ovulate you rich bitch – so pay a doctor to fix you because if anyone in America can afford it you can. In fact, Khloe could probably afford to buy a brand new uterus and ovaries if the stuff she’s got didn’t function the way she pleased. I stopped feeling bad for her at that moment.
About a month after I watched that riveting episode, I got a call from the nurse at my OB’s office to “discuss my results”. We had been trying for almost 6 months, my had drawn some blood work to check my hormone levels. Apparently my progesterone levels were “on the low side”. What that meant I didn’t know. As an ER doctor I stopped caring about hormones the minute I finished medical school. She proceeded to explain that generally during ovulation my progesterone levels should rise. At the level they measured it was not at all clear whether I was ovulating every month.
She then proceeded to refer me to her partner who specialized in “reproductive medicine”. You mean a lady doctor who helps the childless to become un-barren? This I hadn’t expected. When I had initially decided to get a check up, part of me had convinced myself everything would be normal and we would sit around and all throw our heads back and laugh that I had been dramatic as usual and had overreacted. And then I would get pregnant shortly thereafter and feel silly that I had gotten the blood work done in the first place.
The episode came on as a rerun. Suddenly I started feeling bad for Khloe again. She and I were bound by a common thread – our dysfunctional ability to ovulate. We were kindred spirits. Watching this the second time, I cried as she got her ultrasounds, as she bared her soul for the camera talking about the tragedy of her broken ovaries. The heartbreak when she told Lamar about her fucked up hormones. I thought – I am with you Khloe. I get you. We should be friends and talk about this as we sip champagne and you buy me new Gucci shoes. Me and Khloe – BFFs.
I had a Kardashian connection.
Love Author M
It’s been a while since I’ve gone back to my timeline. Since Author S took the first brave step and told part of her story I thought it was time for me to buck up and do the same. Can’t be the wuss in this duo of bloggers. So it’s my turn to suck it up and open up.
So remember my grand plan? To do the deed once or twice during days 10-20 using the trusty ovulation strips to have our planned oops?? Well if that worked this website would not exist.
We did our do diligence –
Day 1: get period.
Day 2: Drink through the disappointment.
Day 10: Start peeing on ovulation sticks.
Day 10-20: Do the deed whenever possible.
Day 28: Pee on pregnancy test…. and cry. Go back to the beginning.
Day 1: Get Period.
Those damn Day 1’s kept on coming. And by early November it had been 10 months since we pulled the goalie and our strategy for an empty net had failed to help us score. I was 3 weeks away from that big scary age of 35. And another month gone by that our oops never happened.
Sometimes you just know yourself and your body and I knew my oops wasn’t coming. No other way to explain it – I just knew I needed an “evaluation”. I’m no gynecologist but I’m a doctor with access to doctor type materials so I read the guidelines: the fancy instructions tell you that if you’re less than 35 you should see a fertility specialist after a year of trying. If you’re over 35 you get some help after 6 months of trying. Well I was 34.9 years of age so I figured 10 months was ok to at least talk to my Gyne about seeing a specialist and asking some questions.
So one day, as we lay in bed last November I nervously started a conversation with my husband. Maybe It was time to stop closing our eyes and crossing our fingers hoping and/or planning for that oops. What if something was wrong? Usually I’m a spaz and his job is to tell me I’m overreacting. Except this time he agreed I was right. I called my OB – time to get the netherlands checked.
Stay tuned – this story is just beginning.
Love Author M
CONGRATULATIONS TO THE CHICAGO BLACKHAWKS!! Can anyone say parade?
Love Author S&M
I’m sure Author S is asleep but I just got home late from work to some celebrity”news”… I almost want to call her and wake her up to get the reaction. if you’ve been reading our blog you know Author S gets borderline psychopathic when she hears about stupid celebrity baby names.
NORTH. As in NORTH WEST. That’s a direction.
WHAT!!!??! Does anyone know the combined IQ of these two (who are now parents before I am btw)? I can’t give my future kid a stupid name because I can’t afford rehab and therapy like KimK and KW can. But if they ever lose their fame this kid is in a world of hurt in high school.
All I know is I could have thought of a million better names. Even fusion names such as Kimye, Kanberly, Kanki, Kiye or Kakye would have been better.