Before I continue, let's get something straight here. Unfortunately (for The Husband) I was never one of those pregnant women who immediately upon peeing on that little plastic stick wanted nothing more than to reenact every single raunchy porn video ever created.
Basically, I haven't wanted to touch sex with a 10-foot pole since I peed on that overpriced piece of plastic rendering those incredible words "Pregnant." Just the mere thought of having to engage in such an act would send me into The Fake Sleep and Snore that I've come to master oh, so well.
The question I would like to pose today is: Why is it that now that I'm fiending for it, it's like the goddamn Kama Sutra olympics have taken over our bedroom? We're talking muscles cramping, hips popping, numb hands, bellies bumping... Okay, you got me. It's really only my belly that's bumping anything.
But for the love of all things coital, can't a girl just get laid? Go ahead and laugh but no amount of pillows, creativity or flexibility could help me now.
Sidenote: As I re-read that last paragraph, I have to laugh out loud and wonder, "who the hell is this chick and where was she hiding the last nine months?" If in your head you made some brilliant Fifty-Shades "inner goddess" remark, don't fret, I almost wrote the same thing but I assure you, E.L. James used the phrase "inner goddess" enough for all of us for the next fifty years.
Wait. Did you all think I didn't have sex? I know this is oft a taboo subject, especially to write about on one's blog, sharing it with the entire world wide web, but somebody had to say it.
I know I can't be the only one in this awkward sex-crazed ship. I hate to break it to you, Loyals, but that's how we got ourselves a Carter.
Speaking of sex, although I may be fiending for it now, I cannot express the degree of my affinity for the Six Week Wait. You know what I'm talking about- those wonderful, blissful six weeks of fresh newborn-dom when you're basically walking around topless, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, with a baby hanging from your boob muttering obscenities to yourself, when, most importantly, sex is absolutely off limits.
...And after that wonderful mental picture, I wonder why The Husband ever wanted to sleep with me again, too. I ask myself this all the time.
Swimming and baths are also off limits which I'm a bit bitter about- but no sex for six weeks? Sign me up.
Loyals, let's just say that Six Week Wait is akin to the much coveted grade school hall pass.
The moral of today's story, Loyals? Get all of the "good sex" in now. Pre-Life-Exhaustion Pre-kids. Pre-pregnancy. Because nobody every tells you that when you want it the most, it's all downhill from there and may even land you a National Geographic contract.