I meant to write about this earlier — but wavered on the whole “oversharing” issue. But its part of our story, so I’m including it.
After giving birth, the doctors tell all the new parents they get to abstain from the wild monkey dance for six weeks. At that time, the girls get to visit the OB, who goes down there and makes sure everything’s hunky-dory before giving the green light to resume the sex life.
Yes gents, you have to wait SIX WHOLE WEEKS more. And desperation levels will vary. Some women will be crazy “in the mood” while pregnant and the sex life will be every man’s dream. (Until physics gets in the way, that is.) Other women’s sex drives will die, and it will be up to the guy’s to make the moves.
Poor Hubbs, I was grouped into the “other women” category while pregnant. I had zero interest in the wild monkey dance while pregnant, especially as I got bigger. I felt like a beached whale. In all honesty, it took so much effort to roll from one side to the other while in bed that I GRUNTED. Its not flattering. It made the Hubbs laugh, at least. But seriously? When flopping from my left to my right side takes a system of pulleys, a trapeze, a wedge, and a cheering squad, one doesn’t particularly feel sexy.
So the Hubbs was counting down those six weeks. Every Monday he’d come out of the shower and say “Five weeks to go!”
As much as he was looking forward to it, I was dreading it. Well, maybe not dreading it. I was scared of it. Just a wee bit. I mean, that area had just gone through a lot of trauma and … its a mental hurdle.
In addition, it still … hurt … down there sometimes. I’d bend down to pick up a toy and I’d feel like something was tearing. NOT a good feeling. I thought maybe I had popped a stitch. The Hubbs refused to believe anything was wrong.
TWO WEEKS! (With jazz hands)
The day of my OB appointment, the Hubbs slapped my butt and practically danced his way out the door. He was ALL set for the wild monkey dance to return.
So imagine his dismay when I called him after my doctor’s appointment. It went a little something like this:
Me: “Hey Hubby.”
H: “I hope you’re ready girl, cause its is ON! Booyah!”
Me: “Um, honey?”
H: “Yeah, babe?”
Me: “You have to wait another week.”
Me: “Remember when I said it still hurt down there sometimes?”
Me: “Well, my body was overhealing one of the stitches. The reason it was hurting was that new skin kept growing over that area and causing a lump, making that area more sensitive.”
H: “OK …”
Me: “So to stop the skin from doing that, she put acid on it.”
Me: “She put acid on it.”
H: “She put ACID on it?”
H: “In your coo? She put ACID in your coo?!”
H: “She turned your coo into the Alien queen?”
Me: “Honey …”
H: “Is she trying to kill me?”
Me: “Um, hello? A little sympathy here? That shit BURNED. Imagine how it would feel like if they put acid on YOUR privates.”
H: “So, will it burn ME?”
Me: “Not if you wait another week.”
As it turns out, he waited another two weeks. Cause he wanted to make sure “the coast was clear.”
And for the girls — yes, it was awkward (for me), and it was a huge mental hurdle. But after that first time, its easier.