Reality of Sex After Baby

This is a VERY rough draft.....


I always heard everything is different after you have kids. Well, I’ve only had one child so far and as far as I know, it is different. What I wasn’t expecting to change so drastically was sex that is until my friend had scared the crap out of me talking about it. Of course to her everything was fine and dandy because she had a cesarean. She kept bragging, with every right, how she was grateful she didn’t deliver vaginally because she “didn’t want anything to change down there,” or how “everything gets stretched out,” or how she “liked everything just the way it was.” I was jealous. My mind was filled about horror stories about how women hated sex now they had kids. I was terrified. Not only was I terrified about sex after birth but also I was afraid of stretch marks and what a magazine called, “breasts that now looked like deflated condoms.” I was ecstatic to be a mom but scared of losing my youth, scared of leaving my life as I knew it, scared of stretch marks, scared I would no longer be attractive to my husband let alone having any random guy flirt with me and I was scared of sex and “the changes down there.”


While in labor, I was excited. I was three weeks early and I hadn’t had any stretch marks that I was aware of. Of course this was the day I would also meet that little boy who was giving me heartburn, gas, indigestion and painful kicks. Literally the day before my Lamaze instructor was telling us how wonderful that feeling was once your baby was placed on your belly and how everything else in the room seemed to melt away. She reminded us how walking while in labor and sitting on an exercise ball would help tremendously. I preferred the method of vomiting and crying in the fetal position. After eight hours of labor I was delivering my baby. He was pushed down. The nurse had done an oil massage “down there” so I hopefully wouldn’t tear or have an episiotomy.


Turns out all the massage in the world wouldn’t have helped me as the doctor cut me. The changes down there already started to occur. Everything from here on out was different.
As my son was placed on my belly, the world didn’t fade away. In fact all I could think about was, “Holy shit, I’m a mother.” I felt my youth disappear as I was being sewed up. This little six pound thirteen ounce little boy depended on me for everything. Later I cried while thinking about our life together and the important people in my life he would never get to meet. I told him stories about our family and who they were, that way when he met them, he would already know deep in his heart how special they all were, just like he was to me.


A few weeks after being home, I remembered my promise to my husband. I would perform “special acts” for him, seeing how we couldn’t have sex for six weeks. When the time came, I didn’t do much, hardly anything for him while he rubbed my back, as I lied next to him. All I wanted was my back rubbed. He tried touching my breasts but they hurt, they were too tender. But the back rub, felt so good. I wanted to just sleep. Sleep, it would be nice to sleep, the baby is sleeping, and I should too.


Shortly after our non-existent ordeal, I decided I would take a look “down there.” It was my body, I have every right to. I was horrified. How on earth could my husband even look at me? I cried, I sobbed and I screamed quietly in my head. My heart plummeted as I felt even more unattractive then what I already did. When my husband came home, he asked to see. I was very reluctant to show him but after some tears and complaining on my part, plus encouragement on my husband’s I spread my legs and showed him, nervous, very nervous. He said it wasn’t that bad. So our life went on.


The day before my six-week appointment we decided we would have sex. I wasn’t sure why he would want to have sex with me. I was cut up to my clitoris and this is what had upset me the most. We decided we would go very slowly and my husband would be very gentle, I was afraid it would hurt. As we started, we realized it was ok. Then the baby started crying. We stopped. We got the baby to sleep and then started again. The baby started crying again. This time Chris went in to check on him. After calming him down, we started again. The baby started up again. I checked on him. He stopped. We started. The baby started crying, we went at it. He finished. I finished. We looked at the clock. My husband said, “Those were the best four minutes of my life.” It was quick but it was nice. We checked on the baby, we got him to stop crying again.


So what about those changes and fears I had? To tell you the truth, I’ve never enjoyed sex so much in my life. Of course now we are lucky to do it once a week and it’s a real treat to do it twice a week. But while giving birth vaginally something did change “down there” and whatever it was that moved or changed, caused me to enjoy sex much more then I ever had before.


Now that my son is nearly eight months old my dilemma is what happened to it all. If we do have the time to do it, normally all I want to do is sleep. Chasing around a nearly eight month old who is very active is tiring, not to mention there’s laundry, dishes, a dog, cat, cleaning and the endlessness of picking up, not only is it after myself, a destructive dog, an infant but a husband who sometimes I wonder if he gets it. As for romancing, I often ask what romance is nowadays. Every once in awhile I hope for a surprise, but normally it’s him rubbing my leg and touching my breasts. Don’t get me wrong when we do have sex I make sure most of the time I enjoy it too, but there are sometimes I let it happen and sometimes I wonder if he’s even interested in pleasing me or just getting off for himself.


Then there are the days when I really want sex like no other, and I think about my husband all day long. Unfortunately ninety percent of the time something happens and we argue. I don’t end up getting what I want. So frustrated I wait for another day or another time. Maybe I’ll get my hair played with or a back rub. That would make it nice.


Finally you have days where the two of you try too hard to make it happen, although the baby is fussy and won’t cooperate, he won’t sleep and when he does, you both are tired.


Sex after one kid is hard. It’s hard to keep a spark or get your partner interested unless you talk about it beforehand, which isn’t very enticing. For some I guess they don’t enjoy it as much but for me the act of sex I enjoy very much, it’s just the spontaneity that is gone.`

Bradley Growing

So we have a quiz on the side of my blog and a baby ticker on the very bottom. For some reason I couldn't get the ticker to fit all the way on the side.

Pretty much Chris and I are realizing how fast our little boy is growing. He's not driving a car or anything but he is growing fast and a little faster then we thought he was. We are posting a clip of our son, this was from last week. He was playing with the keyboard and successfully programmed some sort of sounds we couldn't get off the computer for about a day or so. He's going to be a computer nut just like Daddy.

A few days ago Chris was feeding the baby, well it turns out Chris put his food on the tray for the highchair. Bradley had just learned how to dump out his toys from a little bucket he has, so he was imitading the same concept. All I heard was, "Bradley!" When Chris told me what happened all I could do was laugh.

So I have a very hard time swallowing pills. The doctor had given me chewable prenatal vitamins. Yesterday was our first day taking them (before I was taking Flinstones). First off the container is hard as all heck to open. They say they are child proof, well they are adult proof too. Chris even had more of a difficult time opening them then he thought he would.

After they were opened we took a sniff....citrus....I asked Chris if he wanted one. He declined. I took my chewable for the day and thought, "It's not so bad." Then it hit. The citrus flavor quickly changed to something bitter and chalky. I couldn't even swallow this! It was horrible. As I choked it down I was reading the label. "Take with a full glass of water." Of course. No wonder why they wanted you to douse your mouth with a liquid substance.

This morning as I was staring down the bottle I realized it said something about your bowel movements and urine. Apparently it's not uncommon for them to change color. Great I wonder if I'll have purple poop.

Throughout all of this, it reminded me of how my mother would force me to choke down my dinner. I was normally just a hotdog and beans type of girl. It was my favorite. A couple years ago in school I had to write a very short piece about food, which I'm sure needs editing, but the choking of the pills reminded me of this piece.

Enjoy.

The Worst Pork Chops Ever

I sat there and stared at the meat soaked in what my family thought was a delicious sustenance. The pork chops stared back at me, daring me to eat it. Everyone was gone from the table except me, the princess plate, the pork chops soaked in tomato soup and the hopeful and willing rescuer the dog, named Brandy. My booster seat was pushed close to the table, with me in it. I felt the world caving in as I watched my brother playing outside in the warm Georgia evening weather.

Chad was tossing a tennis ball against the brick exterior and then catching it. Every once and awhile there was a loud BING ringing against the glass window. "SORRY MOM! I MISSED THE WALL!" He yelled through the window followed by his goofy smile showing his missing six year old front teeth.

"Mom, can I go outside and play with Chad?"

"When you finish your supper."

"But Mom, I'm FULLLLL" I emphasized full in my whine, hoping to win her over.

"You hardly ate anything. Finish your meat."

Finish my meat? Is she crazy? Does she know this is torture and how horrible it tastes? "But Mom," I continued to whine. "The meat is too rough!" I used to say the meat was too rough when it took forever to chew or it was overcooked.

"Jenna, the meat isn't too rough," Mom argued.

Then it dawned on me like a ton of bricks, Brandy was patiently waiting, for any drops of food. As quietly as possible I picked up a piece of the tomato soaked meat and hung it over the table. Brandy, a medium sized mutt, attacked it as a piranha would attack fresh meat, I almost lost a finger. Glancing in Mom's direction she had no clue, the plan had worked and Mom was oblivious. One piece was down and several more to go. I reached again for the next victim while Brandy was anticipating her next treat, ready to go and on her feet.

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!"

How did she know? She wasn't even in the same room as me! I put the meat on the table and then casually flung it off with my hand, the dog leapt for it.

"JENNIFER MARIE!"

She used my middle name! I'm really in trouble now! Where is she? How does she know these things? "But Mom, I dropped it!" I tried to emphasize the word drop.

"Don't 'but Mom' me, eat your dinner!"

I put a piece of the rough white tomato meat in my mouth and began to chew. Again that four year old brain of mine was on fire. After chewing and chewing, I would spit the meat into the paper napkin Mom placed at each of our settings. It was a great plan except the napkin was tearing and it would be noticeable. There had to be another plan fishing around my head somewhere. I shoved the last couple of pieces in my mouth.

"Mom, I'm done! See?" I showed her my plate, napkin crumpled on top and my mouth full of meat.

"See that wasn't so bad was it?"

"Nope," I tried to choke out as much of the word as my chipmunk cheeks would allow.

"Go throw the napkin away and you can go outside with Chad."

I pushed myself away from the cryptic chair of torture, the dog close at my heels and headed toward the trash to throw away the contents of my napkin and mouth.

"And don't even think of spitting the meat out."

She knows! I threw out the napkin, walked passed my mom showing her the contents of my mouth and headed for the bathroom. With the exception of a small amount I spit the other white meat in the toilet and flushed away my dinner. Walking passed my mother again I showed her the remains in my mouth again and headed outside, Brandy still on my heels waiting for her final reward.