**Though I have tried not to be terribly explicit in this post, please know that is about an adult subject.**
This is a part of pregnancy I did not expect. Perhaps most women don't experience it, or perhaps many do and it's just not talked about because it's a little wierd.
I can't seem to get enough um... well, sex. My hormones are running crazy, and along with the crying over nearly nothing and constant aches, those pesky hormones normally associated with teenagers seem to have found their way back to my bloodstream. And it's seriously annoying.
Michael is not exactly obliging, mostly, I think, because I don't know how to tell him. We have never been terribly talkative about this, and whenever I try I get embarrassed and tongue-tied and I can never quite say what I want to say.
Part of that is because a few times (earlier in the marriage) I tried to be explicit about my needs without being verbal, and it didn't turn out well. Another part of the problem is that every time we try to talk about it and I find that I can't say what I want it just makes it harder for me to try again. I blush a lot. Too much for a married woman talking with her husband. And the final issue, I think, is that while Michael is invariably satisfied, I am not. Ever. At least not with intercourse. Yes, there are other methods and it usually happens one way or another, but I really hate that we have to do that.
And while I'm laying our issues bare, I might as well admit that, for various reasons, it's been a few months since I've been 'satisfied'. Which could explain my current overwhelming needs. The logical part of my mind does not lay the blame all at Michael's door. I know this is an 'us' problem. However, the logical part of my mind is not exactly in control right now, and so that makes me even more reluctant to say something because I'm afraid I'm going to say something I don't really believe, but do feel right now, and end up hurting him.
Because we've never been able to talk coherently about this, I don't know how he feels about me not being satisfied, or if he even notices. I would like to think that he notices, and that he cares to the point that it hurts him and he blames himself and he just doesn't know how to talk about it or what to do about it. If I knew he felt that way, I think I could talk with him about it more easily.
But, I'm afraid that he more feels like it's my problem, something that I need to fix. Again, logically, I know it's more likely that it's somewhere in the middle of those two extremes, but it's extremely frustrating regardless.
And, on any one occassion, I don't really care whether or not I'm satisfied. But all told for the past few months, it bothers me. It actually hurts that he doesn't say anything. I know I should be the one to take responsibility and say something, since it does bother me and I have a right to talk about this with him, but I guess I've read too many romance novels. Even regular fiction novels that are a little explicit generally depict a guy who takes responsibility for the girl's pleasure. And if there is a problem, it's generally the guy who blames himself.
Unrealistic? Yes, I know it is, and that's why the books are fiction. But that doesn't help me any right now. I don't know what would, I don't even know that talking about it would bring any difference, because the few conversations we've attempted in the past have failed so miserably.
My final admission of the day: It's all very depressing. Not just this issue, but all the things I have to deal with. Not having a job, dealing politely with Michael's parents and sister (especially his dad, who is incredibly excited and therefore more annoying than I thought possible), diplomatically rebuffing what I feel are inappropriate inquiries and touching, and living in this small town with no distractions or entertainments are really wearing on me. And I'm terribly afraid of developing post-partum depression. Not the baby blues, I think I could handle that, but real, debilitating depression. My son doesn't deserve that, nor does Michael, and I really don't want to have to deal with it. I've been depressed before, but never to the point that I felt I needed to seek help, even if I probably should have. It always goes away after a while. I'll have to seek help if it happens again, though, because now I have Wesley, and he deserves a mom who is whole and well. Just one more thing I don't want to talk about with Michael.
P.S. I just read the description on my baby bar, and thank God that none of that is true! I am uncomfortable, but I don't have hemorroids or any bathroom issues, and I'm really okay, as long as people don't ask me how I'm doing all the time, because that's just annoying.