I've been thinking about this post for years, but have shied away because I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable.
I'm so tired of making everyone else comfortable- it's time to talk about this.
How does Mommy get her groove back?
Before I had children, I was hot. OK, maybe that's an overstatement, but I at least looked in the mirror and felt attractive. I didn't have a 6-pack going, but there were actual abs. I was running multiple long distance races and working out a ton. I dressed well, did my hair and make-up, and partied with friends and went out on dates with my husband.
When we decided to try for children, it was an exciting time. I wanted to get pregnant and therefore, birth control was finally out of the picture. It was great. Until getting pregnant became a nightmare. I think that was the first time the "groove" started to have some issues. Sex became a thing that was precisely timed. Positions were restricted. Spontaneity was eliminated. And then, success led to loss and loss led to depression. Baby making became a job and it sucked. Once we had a successful pregnancy, my paranoia prevented us from being intimate. But, when my body began to have issues with pregnancy, the paranoia turned real and we were medically restricted. I'm sure there are millions of women who can back me up when I say that what I endured over the past nine years left me traumatized. The exams, the vaginal ultrasounds, the cervical checks- I've had more hands up my vagina than I care to recount. Seriously. I lost track. And it was brutal, painful, scary, and aggressive. I gave consent, but I didn't want the penetration. I don't think that any of the medical professionals intended for the exams to feel the way they did, but I cried after every single one.
Maybe it's because it forced me to confront the time I was digitally penetrated against my will. I was in college. I remember what I was wearing. Bootcut jeans, a green sweater and my favorite doc martins. When he came up to me at the party, he specifically said that the outfit I had worn to class that day was much hotter than the one I had on. I didn't realize where this was going. I was drunk- it was the second time in my life that I had ever encountered alcohol. I trusted him because I was 18 and naive. I remember the weight of his body on top of mine. The scratchy feel of the rug under my body as he pulled down my pants. The absolute panic that I had never been touched this way before. The room was spinning and I was so scared. And I know it wasn't my fault. But when I spoke with counselors the following week, they questioned my experience in a way that made me feel that maybe I was "asking for it". Was I really sure I said no?
There was a lot of self hatred and many bad decisions that followed. I chose to numb myself with alcohol and hookups. I didn't have many serious relationships. I didn't see myself as a woman who was desired, instead I was a disposable body that didn't deserve respect.
Flash forward 12 years- I'm pregnant, married to a man who knows none of this. And so, I stuffed it down, back where it had been hidden for so long. I tried to remind myself every time that this was OK, because it's all for the health of myself and my children. Still, after I gave birth, I couldn't bear the thought of anyone- doctor or husband- touching my vagina.
Clearly this has led to some real difficulties in my marriage. Sex is important. Intimacy is essential. I was shying away from both.
My body, which in many ways hasn't felt like "mine" since that September night in 1998, has been sacrificed for my children. I stopped carefully grooming myself after the c-section of my oldest, because I was so mortified by my scars. If I continued to shave, the marks on my body would be visible and I didn't want the daily reminder. My small, yet perky breasts had transformed into leaking porn-star boobs that absolutely terrified me. And the weight gain, loss, gain, loss...
9 years of this.
My husband has always maintained that he found me attractive. But how could that be? I would look in the mirror and I see such a transformation that I could hardly believe I was the same person. Yet, when I really think about it, I am changed. I'm not the same.
Boundaries don't exist anymore. I was once too prudish in my early 20s to flash a crowd at the Preakness, yet 100s of strangers have seen me breastfeed without a cover. I prefer to be covered in a gym locker room, yet I haven't showered alone in years. How do we reconcile ourselves as sexual beings and the perfect mothers that society expects of us. It's not funny that when I was home with my children, I showered once- maybe twice-a week. How can I possibly find myself attractive when the world views me as a "mom of three". I'm not exaggerating that more times than not, any compliment delivered on my physical appearance is followed by "for a mom of three". Was my husband some sort of special man because he thought my stretch marks were sexy? All of a sudden, am I supposed to be grateful that my husband still wants to have sex with me despite the toll motherhood has taken on my body? And when those feelings settle in, it's a pretty f-ed up situation.
I'm still figuring this out. I don't have an answer. It's something I struggle with everyday. How can I be "mom" and a "sexy piece of ass" at the same time. Is it even appropriate for me to want to be a sexy piece of ass?
This is a conversation we need to have. Feel free to join in.
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