Everything changes when you become a mom. Your body, your heart, your brain and your libido. It’s a top to bottom overhaul of the things that used to matter, the way you spend your time and money and your ability to remember your own name. You talk about yourself in the third-person using a generic label, and where your ass used to be is now just one long thigh. Your formerly sexy, confident and self-care focused self has left the building, and in her place is someone who cuts her own hair and has 3-week-old string cheese in her purse.
My dating days are far behind me (I’ve been with my man for a hundred years), but like a lot of soul-searching types, I tend to revisit past relationships in my mind. I think about how grateful I am that things didn’t actually work out the way I wanted them to at the time and about how the timing was just perfect for me to meet my husband when I did. I was emotionally ready for a healthy, no-games relationship.
I write a lot about personal stuff. My boobs, my kid, my old dating life, eating disorders, addiction and loss. But for some reason, writing about the bedroom department feels more intimate than writing about the feelings department.
As I move into the third trimester of my third pregnancy, I’m realizing that some of the things I’m dealing with are universal, and definitely not talked about enough. In our mom-to-be circles, we talk about our underwear not staying up, swollen ankles and that guy who thinks it’s okay to ask if you’re pregnant with twins. But when it comes to sex, we mainly just talk about not wanting to have it. Continue Reading