Welcome to the Frisky “Sex Diary,” in which an anonymous person shares the details of her sex life over the course of a few days. Sometimes these entries are filled with revealing romps, while other times there is nary a naked moment in sight. Some of these diarists are frequent contributors. Want to share a page from your sex diary? Email firstname.lastname@example.org. All entries will be anonymous.Diarist: Married, 27, expecting first child
The last time I had sex: My husband and I were gearing up for a visit with my family. As per our usual, he was stressed and I was running around like a mad woman trying to primp, clean, complete last-minute shopping tasks and make sure everything was in order to make sure we didn’t appear out of order. We were a little snippy with each other and I was on the deck grabbing some fresh air. I had been very mindful of the fact that our sex life went from stellar (3-5 times a week) to almost non-existent (once a month, maybe) in a matter of 3-4 months … the exact amount of time I have been pregnant. Coincidence? Not likely. He gave me his lustful eyes and we went into the bedroom. I was self-conscious being naked with my little belly. He was considerate, but visibly uncomfortable. It was quick and tame. Afterward, he said that he wanted to do it in the hopes that it would relieve some stress for me. Um, thanks?
Week 1/Week 18 of pregnancy: Having been in sexual situations before that were highly unsavory, I am now a big proponent of not pressuring someone into sex; if you don’t want to, you shouldn’t have to. A mantra I must admit I’ve found pretty flexible when it’s come to some previous relationships. Once the passion had gone, I would have sex only to appease my partner until eventually one or both of us got tired of one another. I digress: Although I’ve had open talks with my husband about noticing the sudden drop in our sexual activity, he never alludes to a problem even though I can tell that he’s uncharacteristically awkward.
Week 2/Week 19 of pregnancy: Oh, the hormones! The depression! The jealousy! The paranoia! My insecurities trumpet into my head minute by minute. There are so many changes happening so rapidly that I hardly recognize the person I was. I don’t mean physically — I mean mentally. What was once a confident, laid-back woman who could sit and drink beers with the guys, I’ve become a terrified, whiny shell with the emotional capacity of a surly high school freshman. In an uncharacteristically forward attempt to initiate some fooling around, I go down on my husband after a particularly frustrating day at work for him.
Week 3/Week 20 of pregnancy: Our second ultrasound. Hello, 3D image of our son! Goodbye, husband’s libido!
Week 4/Week 21 of pregnancy: After sitting through a particularly nookie-licious scene in a movie we were watching (hot tub scene in “The People vs. Larry Flynt,” if you’re curious) the air prickled with unease. I mention to my husband that I find it hard to watch sex scenes with him because it’s like trying to ignore the elephant in the room. He finally opens up, expressing that he thinks I am beyond beautiful and that I’m handling pregnancy very well — it’s just … his son’s in there. He says that even got a little wigged out the other day, mid-blowjob, thinking about his son getting nutrients from his come. I find it impressive that he was able to have an entire thought mid-blowjob. This must be serious.
Week 8/Week 25 of pregnancy: With a mixture of sexual frustration, lack-of-sex-induced paranoia, and feelings of rather crushing inadequacy, I’ve been whacking off far more than usual. Sometimes I watch porn to speed up the process, but then feel immediately weird and not very motherly after viewing some particularly raunchy content that unexpectedly popped up. Touché, husband.
Week 12/Week 33 of pregnancy: I must admit; some days are better than others, but as of today, right now, I’ve come to terms with my lack of passion and find it easier to become numb to my desires. Having been through long stretches of sexless relationships before this comes easily for me. With my almost fully grown belly and lots of baby thoughts swirling about, it’s almost too easy. Convenient? Sure. Healthy? Probably not, but my options are limited. I comfort myself with the hope that maybe we’ll manage to avoid the post-baby sex drought because we’ve both been starved for too long. Hey, it’s kind of outlandish … but a girl can hope.