I am so pleased to introduce Sex Lives of Moms’ very first guest blogger, Mama Natrix.
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I had discovered my attraction to kink long before I met my partner. I enjoyed being a top (go here for the formal definition), especially to men for whom the concept of bondage was mere fantasy. Blindfolding a man and slowly having my sensual way with his body made me feel sexy and uninhibited. Perhaps it was the last vestige of “pretend play” I indulged in as an adult.
Pregnancy changed everything.
I was enormous in that way where I looked more obese than pregnant. No amount of blindfolds could make me feel hot. My goody-two-shoes hormones were ratcheted up full speed ahead and being the perfect mom (as seen on TV, don’t try this at home) was now my life’s goal. My BDSM hobby was tossed out the window along with smoking pot, drinking myself silly, clove cigarettes, and swearing like a stand-up comedian. Even our off-the-curb furniture was not good enough for my future spawn.
I tried. I succeeded for the first three years, I swear, but as they say, you can only hold in your stomach for so long.
After all, breastfeeding was over. My son left the “family bed” for his own twin with dinosaur sheets and started preschool. My husband got a vasectomy for my birthday and sex was back on.
Still, it didn’t feel right, at least as right as I’d remembered it all. How can you still be a top when your bottom has seen you laboring naked (for some reason I rejected the proffered gown while I birthed) and screaming in pain that you feel like you have to take a shit but nothing is coming out? And then really taking that shit during a particularly bone-crushing push?
It took laughter.
It took lots and lots and lots of laughter to get us through those early attempts at feeling sexy together. Why take it all so seriously? What is the fun in that? I’m not Angelina Jolie and my partner is sure not Brad Pitt. Nobody’s watching. Laughing until your eyes tear up is better than orgasm…well sometimes anyway.
To be clear, we haven’t got it figured out yet. But what we’ve got so far makes me realize I need sex play and (lots of) intercourse to be a happy, balanced person as much as I need Prozac. Maybe even more. But that’s a topic for another post.