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Spring Pink and Blue 2016
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my mother-in-law had started referring to our cat as her only grandchild?
maybe
because we kept the kitty?s portrait in a gilded frame on the mantle of the flip-a-switch gas fireplace. it was time. had there been a good movie playing that weekend, or a band we hadn?t yet seen, or
maybe
a special on design- your-own burritos, we might have delayed our decision. instead, on a rainy satur
day
with nothing better to do, we decided to have a baby. appar- ently, we were that bored. who could blame us? we had spent endless
day
s
riding ferries and mountain bikes, while sipping coffee in every incarnation. we had enjoyed countless temper- ate evenings on the beach with our umbrella drinks. we had two jobs and one car. what more could we possibly need? once we had committed to the task, there was no retreat. we spent the first
day
of our journey engaged in light- hearted procreation banter and a few practice runs. ?e next
day
, we began preparing for our task in earnest, start- ing at the bookstore because this was long before google. try to imagine a time, less than 20 years ago, when every answer was not immediately accessible at your fingertips. in order to learn about a topic in depth, you had to go to a library or a bookstore. and, boy, did we learn that
day
. ?it says here there is only a 20 percent chance of getting preg- nant each month,? i told john. suddenly, all those years playing defense against the ever-persistent sperm bri- gade seemed a monumental wasted effort. according to the drawings and descriptions of the complex and interde- pendent biological processes involved, getting pregnant was nearly impossible. i became a woman obsessed. oh, yes, this was going to happen. i am nothing if not an achiever. after consulting a few more books and a few friends, i decided daily sex was the answer. ten
day
s in a row, to be precise. we would practice the rhythm method in reverse. because one never knows exactly when an egg will drop, i was determined to provide all-
day
-every-
day
access to sperm, whenever my egg decided to descend. all i needed was a steady supply of sperm for a three-
day
window before and after the projected ovulation
day
. it?s a common calculation. i might have made a spreadsheet. john and i had heard it could take several months after i stopped taking the pill for me to get pregnant. no worries. our concentrated sex schedule would pay off sooner or later. surpris- ingly, 10-
day
-in-a-row sex is not that fun.
maybe
a sure thing kills a mood, or
maybe
we just weren?t that good at it. regardless, after the first few
day
s, the magic was gone. still, we?d committed to the process. ?come on,? i said to him on night eight. ?it?s go time.? by that point, conception was a mission. lingerie and sweet words not required. ?really?? he looked at me, at the bed, at my scrappy sweatpants. ?let?s sit this one out.? sit it out? was he insane? ?you know the drill. ten
day
s in a row.? i pulled back the sheet. ?do you want to have a baby or not?? suit up?or in this case, don?t?or get out. ?so what if it?s not this month?? he said. oh, no, buddy. we had a system. we had a deadline. ?e project might have become less about getting pregnant and more about accomplishing a goal. ?listen,? i said. ?we can skip tonight if you want, but when your child one
day
comes complaining to you that he can?t go out with his friends because he doesn?t turn twenty-one until next month, well, that?s on you.? i?m seductive like that. and so it was done. a few weeks later, on a rainy satur
day
, i peed on a stick and got the blessed two lines. just as i had planned. belly laughs making babies, the sexy way by lela davidson ?e baby-making started one sat- ur
day
afternoon, sitting in our very cool beach condo, the one with the herbs growing on the tiny lanai and the trader joe?s across the street. within walking distance was the gym where i spent no less than six hours a week, amazingly good and affordable restaurants, killer views, concerts, and half a dozen coffee shops. my husband and i did whatever we wanted. at 27, i felt the pressure of my biological clock. no one in my mother?s fami- ly had made it past 20 before pop- ping out at least one offspring. 46 pink & blue | spring 2016
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