Have I mentioned yet how hard it is to find time to blog with an active, almost walking little one in the house? No? Well, now I have. More on topic coming soon…
How to Have Sex with a Baby in the House.
A first-time mom's adventures in sensuality.
The Conversation
We’d been avoiding it for a while. A few months in and things were progressing slowly. We’d touched on the topic a little bit, but not in any serious way. The few times we had been intimate, not only was I not feeling very into it because my brain kept getting in the way (mostly wondering if/when the baby was going to wake up an interrupt us), I found that it wasn’t very comfortable, bordering on painful. I did a little bit of research and discovered that the discomfort I was having (aka vaginismus) was relatively common among women who’d had c-sections. I was surprised because I’d assumed that it would be worse for women who’d given birth vaginally. Most of the sites I found suggested just continuing to try and that it would get better over time. I know from talking to friends that if vaginismus is the key reason you’re not feeling up for sex, there are definitely things you can do in terms of the physical side of things, so please do talk to your doctor if you fall into that category.
I plucked up my courage and went into a cheesy sex shop while my fella and little one waited in the car outside, walked up to the counter and asked the salesperson for the lubiest lube and condoms they had. It was Halloween, so the fact that they were all dressed up in their gaudiest, “sexy” witch costumes took some of the edge off and had me laughing inside. We gave our new tools a try that night and they definitely helped, but things still weren’t clicking for me in all the other areas.
We finally had a serious conversation about it one night before bed. Maybe it was something about the lights being off and not having to see the pain in each other’s faces that made it easier to talk about. I can’t remember who brought it up first, but I think it was him. He tried as tenderly as he could to tell me how he was feeling about our lack of intimacy. He did his best not to put any blame on me, but I still couldn’t help feeling guilty. He’d tried to keep the spark alive between us and did his best to try to get me in the mood without pressuring too much, but I just hadn’t taken the bait. I was finally able to share a little more deeply with him about all the guilt I had been carrying around and how that only made it worse. I let him know that those times when he turned the pressure up even a tiny bit, made me want to pull away even more. Most importantly, I shared what I’d recently come to realize was my biggest issue: being “over-touched” (google it, you’re not alone!).
All day and all night, I have a baby who is either nursing on me, napping on me, pinching me, climbing on me, slobbering on me, throwing up on me. By the time there’s even a moment for my fella and I to be alone, all I want to do is be alone! At least physically. There are days when even the sweet touch on my back makes me pull away. And I love my fella’s touch. It calms me and turns me on (at least pre-baby) and comforts me. I don’t want him to stop touching me. But sometimes I do. And I feel terrible about it.
When I shared about it with him though, he understood. It didn’t mean he wanted sex any less, but he made it clear he didn’t blame me and that it helped for him to know what was going on with me so he didn’t take it all personally. That conversation was the beginning of the shift in my way of thinking about this whole thing. I started to move from just feeling sad about it to doing something about it.
Thank Goodness for Supportive Partners
My fella is one of the good ones. I waited a darn long time for him and it was well worth it. Throughout this whole adventure he has been incredibly patient, compassionate, and understanding. I’m not sure what I’d do if he wasn’t, it’s hard enough as it is.
During the pregnancy, I just plain didn’t feel that great for the first half and during the second half I mostly felt awkward in my body and unable to really enjoy sex. So we spooned on the couch and watched movies, even at the point when my belly was peeking over the edge. We made out like we were back in 9th grade. It was all very sweet and he never complained a bit.
The early days and weeks after the baby came were a hazy combination of joy at getting to know this new creature in our lives, sleep deprivation, and healing from my unplanned c-section, so we didn’t give much thought to anything else. The 6 week countdown wasn’t really on our minds with so much else filling our days and nights and then it came and went and I had more healing to do due to a minor infection on my incision followed by a case of nipple thrush for me and mouth thrush for the baby due to the antibiotics I had to take (aww, the joys of being a new mom…can you say ouch!?).
At about the two month mark, I finally began to feel a bit more like myself, but only in looking back on it now am I able to see that I had a mild case of the baby blues. I’ve since come to realize that getting back to normal after having a baby is kind of like peeling back the layers of a cabbage – you feel like your outer leaves are nice a fresh until you peel them off and realize they’re actually starting to wilt and the best stuff is the next layer down. This process of peeling and revealing seems to repeat every couple of months and 8 months down the road I’m still peeling away. I’m not sure when I’ll get down to the core of the new me as a mama, a year? Two? 18? Never?
Anyway, once we’d resumed some version of our old lives, both back to work (me part time), no one bringing us meals anymore, no grandmas coming to do dishes or laundry or mow the lawn, I started to notice that I really wasn’t missing sex. I mean, I missed it in theory, that intimacy with the man I love, but I just wasn’t feeling IT. Still my sweet fella continued to be as patient as ever and didn’t say a word. He’d flirt and tickle and kiss, but let me set the pace and the pace was slow.
Eventually, I started to notice that the waiting was wearing on him. He was trying so hard to respect my boundaries, but I could tell that he missed the closeness and needed the tension release.
The baby is calling, to be continued…
It Begins…
There are some things those pregnancy and baby books just don’t tell you. At least not the whole story. Especially when it comes to that 3 letter word…SEX.
Despite what the title of this blog might imply, I don’t intend this to be a how-to on the ins and outs of sex (no pun intended…ok, maybe a little). My hope is that by sharing my story, it’ll help to raise some awareness and show other new mamas out there that they’re not alone. Here goes…
My fella and I fell in love, bought a house, skipped the wedding, and decided to go straight for the kid(s). Our relationship was still pretty young, but we were both ready and lucky for us, we got pregnant quickly and easily. It soon became apparent that our previously healthy sex life was going to have to take a hiatus due to all day “morning” sickness, fatigue, body aches, hormonal mood swings, and the fact that I was too busy peeing every 5 minutes anyway. We were up to the challenge though, knowing that the prize would be worth the wait. Don’t get me wrong, we didn’t go the full 9+ months without being intimate, we managed a few awkward, yet sweet moments:
“Ok, I’ll hold my belly out of the way, you angle your hips like that…yeah, I think it’s working…no, wait, my right foot is falling asleep and I’m getting a cramp in my left calf…ok, turn over, let’s try this way…um, can we take a break? I need a nap.”
Meanwhile, I read pregnancy and “what to expect after you manage to grow an entire creature inside you and bring it into the world only to be in charge of it forever” books like a madwoman. All of them made it pretty clear that we should expect our sex life to get back to normal after about 6 weeks postpartum. So, we toughed it out and settled for snuggling and smooching and gazing at each other adoringly as my belly grew, counting down the days until baby was born and we could start our new 6 week countdown.
Boy, was that a bunch of crap! Had I had a normal, easy, vaginal birth (which I didn’t), and had my body healed up quickly (which it didn’t), and had I been getting enough sleep (which I wasn’t), and had I not had all sorts of crazy new hormones wreaking havoc on my emotions, and had I not had a voracious nurser attached to my boobs every second of the day, then maybe, just maybe 6 weeks might have been realistic. Even then, I have my doubts.
Instead, what I experienced and am still experiencing is what I’m beginning to realize is much more typical – 8 months of little to no sex drive, horrible guilt about depriving my fella of regular physical intimacy, grief over the loss of my previously sensual self, and fear that it’ll never come back.
But now the time for guilt, grief, and fear is over. I’ve already begun taking steps to get my mojo back and I’m going to share them here with you.
How to Have Sex with a Baby in the House. 