I’m going out on a limb here and speaking on behalf of the mummy sisterhood, but it’s time for it to be said. I need to tell you why mums are averse to sex. It begins with pregnancy. Three things happen during this time – your sex drive stays the same, you become a nymphomaniac, or you are so turned off sex you can think of nothing worse. Blokes can also get turned off too. That’s not good if you go the nympho route.
The thing that surprised me is you have no idea which way you’ll go once pregnant. It’s a lottery.
But after your bundle of joy arrives that’s when everything REALLY changes. Your pregnancy sex drive (or lack of) becomes a distant memory and you can look back on that time with some perspective. It’s a weird period for your body being pregnant. It’s a weird time for your sex drive too. You put it behind you. You have no choice. Motherhood is a series of moving ons.
Then they’re here. If you’re breastfeeding, every 2-4 hours there’s a baby attached to your boob – which means you are completely immobilized during that time. But beyond the boob, they must be held, cradled through the night, they cry for no apparent reason, you’re exhausted, it’s intense, but seriously, that first year is the easiest year. From my experience I felt that while they are relatively immobile, things were good.
That’s another thing you appreciate in hindsight. And to those women who worry about their kids not walking before two, as long as there is no issue being confronted about your child’s development – I say “don’t worry about it. Do you know how fucking lucky you are?”
My two got mobile at four months (leopard crawling) and by 11/12 months they were running, not walking. I had no idea at the beginning how quickly my peace would be over. In fact, I never had any peace. I’m only starting to get it back now.
Once your children are on the move, life becomes chaotic madness. You have children with no logic or sense of danger, and their extreme emotions rule your life. They’re on their feet and on the move every waking hour of the day. The stand on you, hit you (accidentally), bite you (not accidentally), leave toys for you to step on, you trip over your kids, they trip over you, they run to you for cuddles when hurt, cry because they’re tired, and take all of their emotions out on you. That list can go on.
So, by the time bedtime comes around, you close your child’s door with relish in your heart and a skip in your step. All you want to do is sit down and not speak. We also celebrated another day our kids survived unscathed (most of the time). Not everyone has to do that, of course, but we did.
And at the end of all of that, your husband/partner/significant other/the father of your children gives you a nudge nudge wink wink and all you want to say is “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” But you can’t of course, no matter how much you want to. Most of the time it’s a case of “love, I’m sorry but not tonight, I just can’t.” But they have their needs too and sometimes you have to say: “sure love, it’s been on my mind all day too, I couldn’t think of anything better right now…”
Two things are happening here, I believe. Your subconscious mind is screaming “are you fucking crazy? Don’t you know that sex is what got us into this situation in the first place?” And two, the thought of anyone touching you, needing you, cuddling you, demanding anything from you, is nothing short of revolting.
And then time moves on, your kids need you less, they still love a cuddle but are not so physically demanding anymore, and all of a sudden, you look at your husband and give HIMa nudge nudge wink wink. I reckon I’m getting closer to that these days. It’s a bit of a relief I must say. Steve is rather delighted about it too.
Anyone else relate to my experience? Am I speaking on behalf of the mummy sisterhood here? Or did you become a raving nymphomaniac after the kids were born? I’d love to know.
Yours, without the bollocks