By Ashleigh Wilkening of Bless this Beautiful Mess
My due date is quickly approaching, and it’s safe to say, I encompass every pregnancy complaint. I’m tired from sleeping like shit and the baby sucking the life out of me. Oh, and of course, from running after two toddlers all day. My body aches from carrying around an extra 40 pounds. I’m uncomfortable from this large, protruding belly making any body movement difficult. Everything I consume somehow manages to give me raging heartburn. And I’m so damn hot, all the time. The list goes on and on.
Everything about my current state is exactly the opposite of feeling desirable or wanting to engage in the act of getting it on. Any day now, I’m going to push an 8-pound human being out of my vagina, and the thought of anything entering or going near my nether regions makes me cringe.
Some women turn into ferocious beasts, ready and waiting to pounce on their spouses. Not me. The only thing I’m ready to pounce on is my stash of Redvines and dark chocolate after the kids go to bed. Unable to indulge in a much-needed glass of wine, I turn to sugar and chocolate to help me cope – not sex.
I wish I were one of these fertile femme fatales I’ve heard rumors about. These special creatures fully embrace their increased sex drives. Hey, no judgment here. More power to ya! Why them and not me? If this insatiable appetite for passion is a result of increased pregnancy hormones, I have plenty of extra hormones spilling out of me. Just ask my husband. I guess I wasn’t lucky to acquire this pregnancy symptom, but somehow managed to obtain every other one.
No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get into the mood. This is my third pregnancy, and I’ve felt this way with all of them. Something happens during the second trimester that makes my body choose to hang a ‘closed for business’ sign with no hope of reopening in the foreseeable future.
Putting the pregnancy aside, I constantly have two toddlers crawling, climbing and pulling on me. By the end of the day, I don’t want another human hand to come near me. Add in the obstacle of a mountain-sized midsection and other pregnancy woes – sore/sensitive nipples, exhaustion, constipation – and thanks, but no thanks.
While showering the other morning, my nipple was caught in the crossfire of a super intense stream of water spewing from our shower head. It felt as though my teat was having an up-close and personal experience with a sprinkler. The intense shooting pain was enough to bring tears to my eyes. If that was my reaction to a flow of water coming into contact with my nip, I can’t imagine my husband trying to fondle my breasts or manhandling my nipples in any capacity.
Sometimes I can’t help but to feel a little wife guilt. Just because I’m not feeling frisky doesn’t mean my husband isn’t. With each pregnancy, for the better part of a year, there is no getting down and dirty in the sheets. That’s a hell of a long time to go without sex. Every time I bring it up, my husband’s response resembles something to the effect of, “I can’t imagine what your body is going through. There’s nothing you have to be sorry for or feel bad about.” God, I love that man.
There is a very small window of opportunity toward the end of the pregnancy where I temporarily allow business to be conducted, but the desired result has no romantic basis. I’m only interested in helping to encourage the onset of labor. At no fault to my husband, the act feels so disconnected, lacking any romantic spark. It’s strictly business. I’m doing my duty to shave any amount of time off this pregnancy. Nothing more, nothing less.
Even after pushing the baby out, there still is the recommended minimal 6 weeks your doctor instructs you to wait. Between the emotional, hormonal rollercoaster, breastfeeding and sleep-deprivation, I wouldn’t entertain the thought of intercourse, even if I were medically cleared to do so.
When that 6-week mark is up, it may be declared ‘safe’ to bang, but that doesn’t mean you are ready. Childbirth puts a woman’s body through the ringer – emotionally and physically. Every woman feels ready to hop back in the sack at different times.
I can’t wait for all this to be over. I’m beyond excited to get this pregnancy over with, but even more excited about reconnecting with my husband. I’m looking forward to getting back to normal, or whatever our new normal will be after welcoming our third child. At least then, the lack of sex will be a result of our children and being too exhausted from taking care of them – not due my lame libido.
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