I've always been very in touch with my sexuality, and considered myself a very sexual person. Sex always seemed like a pretty cool thing, and that's probably a large part of why I'm also a Senior Sales Consultant for Scarlet Girl -- sex is fun!
While I was pregnant, however, things changed. (All around drastic understatement? Yes, yes it is.) Shawn and I had sex 3 or 4 times during that entire 9 (10) month period, and we'd been on a pretty steady diet of 3 to 4 times a week before that, if not more. Which, as you can imagine, bugged me -- I just no longer had any thought for sex whatsoever, I had become an asexual being. I was all about the nurturing instincts, and the sex drive was gone.
To his credit, Shawn was great. He never pressured me, and always let me know he was okay with it, that it was just the hormones and it would come back when my body was all back to normal. Small comfort at the time, but, of course, he was right.
Things did change. The day she was born, I kissed my hunny with the first romantic affection I'd felt in months. But is was still 4 months before we tried to do the deed again. Even after my body had no doubt healed, learning to breastfeed effectively and adapting to the rigors of having a newborn in the house, I still wasn't much interested in sex. Plus, I had (have) an extra 50 or so pounds still clinging to me, making it difficult to get into the headspace of the sex goddess I'd once been.
It happened spontaneously. The baby was sleeping. Shawn was getting ready to leave for work. I'd been having horny little inklings for the past several days, my sex drive idling in the background. When he came to kiss me goodbye, I held the kiss longer, and suddenly it was something more, and we were rearranging the couch cushions because the baby was asleep in the bedroom.
I was a little scared, of the unknown, really. My girly parts had gone through some pretty serious trauma since the last time they'd seen any pleasure, and all the thoughts of what had gone on down there ran through my mind. What if I tore something? What if I was too sore to enjoy myself? And a host of other nameless worries.
Shawn, as always, was fantastic. He went slow and careful, we used a lot of lube -- something I'd never needed to use before but now, with breastfeeding and so on, I find I am extremely grateful for -- and even though there was a little bit of discomfort, I did, in fact, enjoy myself. (Another drastic understatement? Yes, most likely.)
Recently we scheduled a date and had a deliberate night of canoodling -- a shower, wine, and foreplay (for which I was also extremely grateful). And the sex was even better than the first time, almost like it had been before, with all the inhibited passion -- I'm still not sure if it was my fault that the baby woke up in the other room.
I'm learning, then, that while my sex life will always be different from what it was a year and a half ago, it's still there, and still satisfying. It just needs a little help these days.
Yay! And, Hooray for gentle and understanding partners.
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