Let’s talk about the awkwardness of getting back into the swing of things after having a baby. After that six-week wait post-birth, diving back into intimacy can be a bit intimidating. You’re left wondering how things will feel and if your body is up to the task. Sure, your partner has seen you in all sorts of states since the baby arrived, like me with my breastfeeding pillow making me look like I was wearing some sort of bizarre flotation device while just trying to survive those first few weeks. But still, everything seems different, and you’re filled with questions about whether things will work the same way as before.
When I had my first sexual encounter after giving birth, I was filled with uncertainty. Spoiler alert: it definitely felt different, and I was different too. But one thing stayed constant: I was still faking my orgasms.
Growing up, sex was never something I heard discussed openly. The only exposure I got was through a fuzzy and static-filled Playboy channel on TV. As a teenager, I thought sex was supposed to be loud and quick, and when I first tried to explore my own body, I thought something was wrong with me when I didn’t feel anything. It took me a long time to figure things out on my own.
When I started my first relationship in high school, I quickly learned I was faking it again. I didn’t even know what an orgasm was supposed to feel like and assumed I couldn’t have them. It wasn’t until I spent a long, frustrating night alone that I finally discovered what worked for me. But even that didn’t change my approach to intimacy. I was still too shy to communicate my needs, feeling like I was expected to be compliant and not rock the boat.
In my early twenties, I met my husband, Jake. He’s attentive and caring, but I still wasn’t being honest about what I needed. The first time I faked it with him, he seemed doubtful, but I went along with it. I’d pretend to reach orgasm after a few minutes, not wanting to hurt his feelings or seem high-maintenance. I aimed to keep things easy and breezy, even though he would’ve appreciated my honesty.
Fast forward to having my second child. This time, I looked forward to intimacy with a sense of hope instead of fear. I knew things would feel different, and so did he. I decided it was time to be honest about what was happening for me, what felt good, and what didn’t.
That first time after giving birth, I didn’t rush things or fake any noises. I communicated openly, and we worked through it together. I didn’t have an orgasm right away, but we figured it out as partners. After years of pretending, I finally began to enjoy sex for the first time. The joy of getting what I wanted far outweighed any awkwardness that came with asking for it. Honestly, it was a game-changer.
So, if you’re reading this and you’re struggling with being open about your needs, don’t make the same mistakes I did. Speak up and let your partner know what you want. Trust me; it’s worth it.
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In summary, faking orgasms only leads to confusion and dissatisfaction. Honesty in the bedroom is essential for a fulfilling sexual relationship. Embrace open communication, and you may find that intimacy becomes far more rewarding.