Leah muses on procreation vacations and wonders whether they really work.
Photo by gradyreese/iStockphoto.com
Don't get me wrong. I like humping my vacation away as much as the next girl, but when I get a press release about 'procreation vacations — just what the fertility doctor ordered,' I have to put my foot down.
Talk about pressure!
(Though kudos to the marketing person who thought of this latest schtick — a new way to 'package' sex on vacay — #thingsyouneverknewyouneeded.)
The release purred about packages that included getting dropped off at a secluded island in the Turks & Caicos, warming up with a couples massage in Whistler or 30 minutes in a private plunge pool in Banff. At check-in do you say: "I'm here, for, the uh, procreation vacation package?" Does the concierge take your daily body basal temperature? Maybe you get a note on your pillow for turndown service: "Tomorrow the weather will be 23 degrees. And, pssst, it's your fertile window."
When I'm on holiday, I want to make sweet, sweet love for fun, not profit. Though I confess, my husband and I did try to have a vacation baby once. We were on a cruise, and we thought it would be 'just so cute' to have a boat baby, to be able to gaze at our little beastie for the rest of our lives and fondly remember getting drunk with a bunch of Brits somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean. But, alas, it was not to be.
My one-and-a-half-year-old Ben was conceived the old-fashioned way — at home, with our ovulation Google calendar alerts going off in the background like so many romantic violins. It might not have much on a private picnic for two in Whistler, but I'll take it.
Did you try to conceive while on vacation? What do you think of the idea of a 'procreation vacation'?
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