Here we are at 10 pm on a Friday night, it is the end of the week, we ordered sushi, had a nice chat and now we’re going “upstairs”. Nothing was appealing on Netflix, so you suggested we went to bed early and I already see where this is going. I am actually quite excited by THE idea. I mean, it’s not like the opportunity occurs very often at the moment. All our stars (kids) are aligned (asleep) and we are not (!) so we can consider the idea of having sex (yes I wrote the S-word).
Let’s be honest, the last six months haven’t been the most sexually active in our couple history. The end of my pregnancy was pretty painful and then there was the birth… But here we are, Ultimo (aka our third child) is now nearly 3-month-old, I am completely healed from the birth and we know my vagina is fully operational again (in the few times when we had experimented since birth, it was not too sore and even pleasant, happy days).
So, what now? I’m fully recovered so let’s find ourselves again and party in between the bedsheets (or elsewhere why not? We’re still young and healthy!).
But then, here we are, and I just don’t want it. I wish I did but I don’t.
It’s not that I don’t desire you, it’s not that I don’t love you, it’s not that I don’t love sex anymore but the idea to have another human touching my body for the small amount of time I could have it to myself is not that exciting right now.
I mean how can I explain it to you without hurting you?
I know I shouldn’t, but I do feel a little guilty about not wanting sex right now. I have been raised and live with a truly feministic attitude towards this, “if you don’t want it don’t do it, your body is yours”. Any friend of mine who came to me with a similar feeling and I’d be the first one to remind her that these things take time, and not to force herself or apologise for it. But in my life, in practice, it’s not as black and white as I would like to present it. You’re working hard all week – at work or at home as a family man. We both are. We have limited time to ourselves and some sex would do us good, to help us to relax and re-explore that connection that we seem to have some difficulties to find sometimes because of the business of our lives, and the number of little people that need us so much…. constantly.
I want it too … but mainly when you’re not there.
When the physical approach starts I just don’t anymore. I am having my boobs sucked by Ultimo every couple of hours day and night and when it’s not that, I have our 2-year-old who wants a cuddle or is crawling over me to grab my glasses/ hair/earrings or our 4-year-old sneezing on me, needing a cuddle or a plaster on a scratch. I am either pushing a heavy double buggy, pulling a scooter, blowing a nose, wiping a bottom, dressing or undressing a little human and the list goes on.
My body is constantly used for something by someone else with limited breaks.
One would argue that my body is amazing. It is very versatile, it can be a pillow, comforter, carrier, milk dispenser, towel and many other multiple functions. I love how much I have discovered what it could provide for me and I do feel extremely privileged to be in the situation where it never failed me and gave us those three amazing little humans. I won’t lie, in the process of doing so it has known some wear and tear. “Luckily” it’s not like I had an incredible flat belly, tear drop boobs and the whole five-star package to start with. Nevertheless, it has changed. My skin is stretched, my boobs are trying to meet my hips (which have grown wider too), my belly reminds me of one of those lovely wobbly puddings and that’s all without mentioning the private parts which have had their share of trauma too (let’s spare the details on this).
I knew it, I accept it, I am grateful for it but yes, not unlike my teenage years where everything changed, I still need to get to know it better, cut it a bit of slack and find myself wearing that new envelop as my new me. It will come, but that will take time. At the moment, I’d rather not think about it too much and your hands on this body that I haven’t recognised yet make me uncomfortable. It feels like introducing someone to you that I don’t know myself.
I know it is not easy for you and that I should have explained it better, for that I apologise but I’ll get there.
Thank you for giving me the time so that I can start to work at it and when I’ve had a little more sleep and have a bit more energy to get through it, you’ll be the first person to know!
With dearest love,