First of all, for those of you who were waiting on pins and needles to hear, we managed to “follow doctor’s orders” one more time last night, on CD14. Actually, it was late enough that it was practically the wee hours of CD15, so I’m hoping that’ll basically cover us, and we won’t have to feel too guilty about skipping the prescribed session on CD16.

This is the only thing I hate about not charting–not knowing when, exactly, I ovulated. It makes the two week wait way more suspenseful than it has to be, since I don’t know exactly when my LP starts, and so I don’t know when it’s gotten longer than “normal” and I should do a pg test. Which means I test early and get crushed early, only to be crushed again when Aunt Flo shows up. Sigh.

I have a feeling that I’m ovulating today, though, based on CM changes, ovulation pain, and other physical symptoms like that–plus, I’ve ovulated around CD15 for most of the cycles that I did chart this year–so I probably will go ahead and count tomorrow as the first dpo (day past ovulation). That means my period should be here by August 7th at the VERY latest, and that’s giving my typical LP a few days cushion, just in case I’m wrong about the timing. We’re supposed to go see the in-laws on the 10th, so maybe I’ll try to hold out on testing until the trip is imminent. (yeah, right, like I’ve ever had that much self-control)

Guess what else? I did yoga today! Don’t laugh, but I used this ridiculously ancient book, because I’ve done the 28-day plan twice before, once in college and once in graduate school, and found it really easy to follow, especially when at a point of complete physical stagnation and stiffness (ahem, like now). Both times I lost weight, and yoga served as a “gateway exercise,” if you will, to other healthy activity–including healthier eating. My acupuncturist friend suggested some videos, but I think I’ll do Hittleman first and then get videos or take a class once I’ve gotten in the yoga habit. We had such a lovely, active vacation–swimming, biking, tennis–I just don’t want to slip too far back into my couch-potato ways. Maybe I’ll get on the elliptical machine tonight, too, for the first time in ages. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, today I’m supposed to be working on a reader’s report–I was asked to review an article submission for an interdisciplinary journal in my broader field. It’s weird reviewing for a journal that accepts work from multiple disciplines, because since the article is clearly written by someone in another discipline than my own, it’s hard for me to evaluate it. Are the things I perceive as weaknesses or oversights merely differences in disciplinary style?

Ah well. I should be working on my report right now, but instead I’m finishing this blog entry, after which I will likely get back to the novel I’m currently reading. No, it’s not Harry Potter 7 (that’s not meant to sound defiant–more power to all of the giddy HP readers! For some reason I just never started reading the books, although I have seen all of the movies). I’ve come to the point in Russell’s novel that I like to call the point of no return–close enough to the book’s big reveal/climax that I’m not going to be able to put it down until I finish. Which means I might as well read more now, rather than waiting until I’m ready for bed and staying up half the night.

More on Cape Cod very soon, I promise!

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I am planning on another post soon about the racial complexities of our recent experience in Cape Cod, inspired by something posted on this academic blog. But for now, a more, shall we say, concrete topic, namely, that G and I have just about reached our limit on baby-making sex for this cycle, which means we’re faced with a bit of a dilemma. What to do about the next few days? Do we force ourselves to follow doctor’s orders?

Wait, I should back up. I think I mentioned here that I had an appointment with a new ob-gyn last month, a lovely woman whom I’ll call Dr. Blase. Dr. Blase, who was at that point approximately 8.5 months pregnant**, had no use for my months of basal body temperature charts, recommended against the “stress” of ovulation predictor kits, and advised, based on the typical length of my cycles, that G and I should just have sex every other day, starting around CD7 and ending around CD17.

…Whoa. That, my friends, is a lot of sex to have in a ten day period, at least for a couple like us. Neither of us has a particularly strong libido, which is just fine with us when TTC is not in the picture. We have our fun, of course, but we’re hardly setting any records (so much for hypersexual black people–another stereotype down the drain!).

When it comes to TTC, though, our regular “schedule” doesn’t really cut it, especially since we’re sort of Weekend Warriors in the sex department. Unfortunately, my ovaries cannot be convinced to release eggs only on Fridays, Saturdays, or Sundays. They are SUCH freaking divas, wanting to pop eggs out on their own biologically determined schedule, and not telling a soul in advance. Mysterious little b*tches.

Anyway, thanks to our vacation, we have managed to get in some rather enjoyable “following of doctor’s orders” on CD8, CD10, and CD12. But now CD14 and 16 loom ahead, Monday and Wednesday. G is headed back to work this week, so leisurely morning or midday sex is out of the question, and he’ll be exhausted in the evenings. Plus, personally, I’ve had enough sex in the past few days to tide me over at LEAST until next weekend, and I’m pretty sure G feels the same way. So what do we do?

*shrug* Guess we’ll just see how we feel tomorrow. I can already tell that CD16 is just not gonna happen (five times in nine days? um, no), but I hope we can manage at least CD 14. I hate feeling like we’re not doing our part to get pregnant just because we don’t want to force ourselves to have sex this much. Why can’t I be like those folks who have a one night stand and get Knocked Up? Sigh.

Oh wait, you mean my life isn’t a Hollywood movie? There certainly seems to be adequate drama.

**Yes, that’s right. My new ob-gyn, with whom I was hoping to discuss our possible infertility in detail, is hugely pregnant. Insert “oh, the irony” smiley here.