I could feel the texture of his tongue moving against mine. The urges were primal, urgent, and lovely. And then I woke up, flustered and seeking.
I was six months pregnant and the dreams dipped in juicy sex were coming on strong. The intimacy and release of sex secretly filled my mind more than the upcoming birth of my child. I wondered what the sweet lady at the grocery store, who always asked how I was feeling, would’ve said if I told her I had an electric sexual energy coursing through me; that I craved the moment my partner would return home, and I could close the blinds.
My journal entries were salacious. My girlfriends assured me that this bloom of sexuality would wilt as soon as I became a mother. As soon as my breasts were used for nourishment versus arousal. As soon as my vagina was opened to full capacity. As soon as sleep became the subject of my fantasies.
They were wrong. Here’s what giving birth taught me about sex.