The mom thing is beautiful and tough.
I read an article the other day that resonated with me. It talked about losing your identity when you become a mom and having to reconcile yourself with this new identity.
As I rocked my baby to sleep for the 3rd time last night (he still wakes up regularly throughout the night) I cried silently in the dark. If you had seen me you would have thought somebody had hit the mute button on me because my mouth was open wide as if I was screaming in pain and my eyes were streaming with tears but I was completely silent so as not to disturb baby as I rocked him back to sleep.
I remember when I was younger. I was so beautiful. I think I still am.. but I was really something. And so .. fresh and full of youth. It’s the youth I feel as though I’m mourning. I’m not even old now but since having my first child I honestly feel like I have aged at least 3-5 years. I look exhausted all the time.
I used to be very well turned out all the time. Always in high heels. Cute purse to match my outfits. Everything ironed, clean, crisp, well put together. These days I’m in sneakers all the time or any kind of flat shoe, dirty jeans or leggings and long shirts that skim my chubby belly and flat ass. The shirt is always wrinkled and has some kind of stain on it too. And I’m always sweating. Carrying a 12kg baby does that to you.
I used to adore sex. In the 2-3 years before I got married I really discovered myself sexually. The last boyfriend I had before I met my husband really awakened that spirit in me and I still sometimes think back to those times. Not because my boyfriend was particularly sexy (my husband is like 100000000000% sexier) but because I was sexy at that time. I was so fucking hot and had no boundaries in the bedroom. I did everything and I used to shock and impress myself with my boundless confidence. I remember the first time I had sex with that boyfriend, I was riding him backwards cowgirl style.. as he lay there on the bed enjoying the view, he grabbed his wallet from the nightstand next to the bed and took out a wad of money and started throwing paper bills at me one by one as I rode him. I guess it was some fantasy of his, to feel like he was screwing a whore and showering her with money. I’m not a whore though. But I think back to that night sometimes and chuckle to myself. Lol. Good times, good times.
Then when I met my husband… those first few months of sex with him were mind-blowing. I’ve never known anything like it. We were incredible together. I used to read about people being in bed all day having sex but then I actually lived out that dream with him. We’d have so many weekends where we’d go out drinking, come home and have drunken sex from midnight until evening the very next day. Sex, sleep for a couple hours, sex, sex, sleep, sex, sleep, sex sex, sleep. It was crazy. I felt like a goddess. Orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.. craving his skin, his body, his mind, his everything. Sweat, screams, gasping all night long.
Now here we are 7 years later. My husband is still a fucking hot piece and the hottest man I’ve ever been with but the way I feel about myself has changed. The way we have sex has changed and most notably since we had our first baby.
Thankfully my husband seems to still find me attractive. Before baby we were having sex 2-3x a week. Now it’s 1x a week or if we’re unlucky, 1x every two weeks. His new job and my new job is to blame. My new job as a mother. I was flying high in the corporate world before I quit to be a stay at home mom. This new job as a mom is harder though. When I used to have an actual corporate job I never felt so wrung out at the end of the day that I dreaded sex. Whereas now I do.
By the end of every day I feel as though every available ounce of energy, strength, passion and emotion has been squeezed out of me by the mommying gig. It’s no joke. I look in the mirror and I search for that youthful, sexy, lively spirited girl that used to be here a couple years ago. She’s there somewhere but she’s so fucking tired all the time. At home I’m always in some tatty piece of shit pyjama set that is usually stained with baby food. My breasts are usually hanging out in a non-sexy fashion for easy breast feeding access. I just look like a washout.
The way we have sex now is different.
It’s usually a 3-5 minute affair. Quickly before the baby starts screaming. Quickly because I have to start making dinner. Quickly because I have to clear up baby’s toys and give him a bath and do the bedtime routine. Quickly. Also because mentally, I’m nowhere near feeling horny. Not because of my husband but because I am so wrung out. Wrung dry. My husband always has a boner though. How is that possible? Does he find me sexy or is he imagining someone else? Whatever gets him through it I suppose.
I wonder if my husband will ever cheat on me. He is still doing the same old thing. Swanky corporate guy that he is. Nice slick suit everyday. Cologne. Leather briefcase. Cufflinks. Fancy shoes. I remember that was me a couple years ago. We would both get ready in the mornings for work. I always dressed so smart, sexy. Sexy women suit. Sexy high heels. Matching purse. My blowdried hair. I was so hot. We’d walk out the door looking hot together. I’m so far from that right now.
It must be nice to feel nice about yourself. I snap at him sometimes, quite a lot actually. I can be very rude to him on a daily basis as a result of me feeling frustrated and shitty most of the time. He’s still very kind, gentle and patient to me. I wonder if that lasts forever? I hope so. I hope I stop being a bitch.
Today I actually styled my hair. I blowdried it and ran the straightners through it. I looked half decent and went out walking with baby.
I thought Spring had arrived but there was a fuckload of rain today and I got soaked through. So did my hair.
Last updated March 27, 2019