Yeah, this one is about sex.

This is the article I never wanted to write. I have thought about writing it, but I always figured I would never have to...

When it comes to sex, I consider myself proficient.

Several lovers have categorized me as amazing.

Sexually, I am open to most things, and I am able to perform most activities at an enhanced level. I orgasm freely, and will do most anything to produce an orgasm for my partner. I will swallow if that is what my husband wants, or let him cum wherever he chooses...except in my eye. I embrace anal sex, dabbling, threesomes...yeah; I am inhibition-free, in bed.

I can do it all, however...

Sex is not just recreational. Sex is life affirming and perhaps ultimately designed with procreation in mind.

This is where I fail.

I come here every week and write with reckless abandon about the recreational side of my sex life.

The procreation side is a different story. However, I have always shared most everything, so here goes...

A recent out-patient procedure, featuring an uncomfortable and often painful laparoscopy, revealed that I have blocked Fallopian tubes. This information comes after months of ovulation cycle charting, sperm count testing, body temperature monitoring, and assorted other procedures designed to either correct or pinpoint our problems in the area of procreation.

I feel barren, I feel empty, and I feel useless. I blame myself and everything I have ever done sexually. I curse the years of birth control I willfully ingested, in the interest of just having recreational sex.

Until now, my worries sexually were mostly about whether or not I should have sex with Nick, if I should let David put his dick in my mouth after he fucked my ass, why the snooty lesbian did not want me licking her pussy, or if my husband was banging a Russian Euro-slut.

This medical news kinda puts everything in perspective, and makes me realize how unimportant my previous worries were.

Being Catholic by birth, guilt is imperative, so of course, countless other things come to mind.

Is this an omen?
Is this God's way of telling me I am unfit to be a mother?
Am I just for sex...is that all there is for me?
I was a bad daughter...is this my punishment?
Am I useless?
Will I ever be a complete woman?
Will David leave me?

I am not gonna bore everyone with clinical details about my shortcomings in fertility, but the road ahead does not appear to be a pleasant one. I suspect many others have either gone through such a situation, or are currently involved these matters. I appreciate the dozens of inspirational and supportive e-mails I have received about similar personal experiences as relate my infertility problems.

I feel bad now, since I made David go and masturbate into a specimen jar, hoping against hope that the problem was with his swimmers, and not due to my own faulty plumbing.

I will say that this whole thing has already taken its toll on both of us.

Although I dreaded the conversation I had to have with David regarding my infertility, he actually took it in stride, and compared my Fallopian blockage and the many efforts he made to penetrate them…all in vain, to the hours he has spent attempting to defeat the bubble shield in Halo 3...and he finally mastered that. Yeah, he is a bigger geek than I previously thought.

Being Catholic, I wonder if the aforementioned abuse of birth control; which is a sin in itself, caused this personal and perverse penance.

Of course, my doctor had nothing but comforting and reassuring words to say about my condition…She urged me to forget about conception, and to work on restoring our sex life to what it used to be. She said to pick a date when we were ready to get serious about pregnancy, but to get back on a random and spontaneous program regarding intercourse.

I am apparently quite fixable, if I am willing to submit to future semi-invasive surgical procedures and possible alterations to my reproductive system. While this does not sound like something I will enjoy, a recent afternoon spent watching David interact with his 18-month-old nephew, was all I needed to convince me it would be worth it.

It seems like a reasonable price to pay…

I mean, it is not like I gotta give up chocolate.