My partner and I have been together since I stepped into adulthood. Nearly 13 years later, and 8 years of marriage, I’ve managed to maintain a certain level of mystery. In all this time, I’ve never once used the bathroom with him around and go to great lengths to avoid any embarrassing sounds in his presence. Grooming my intimate areas? Nope, not happening while he’s there.
I feel a strong desire to keep the spark alive in our relationship. I want him to see me as a stunning, alluring goddess who doesn’t need to engage in normal bodily functions. While he knows I do these things, I prefer not to lay it all bare. After all, no couple needs to know every detail of each other’s less glamorous moments.
And then I found out I was pregnant.
Let’s just say that the element of surprise vanished. While I haven’t actually peed in front of him, “morning” sickness struck at the most inconvenient times—like when I was brushing my teeth before bed. He was right there, supporting me as I retched into the toilet (and once into the shower when nausea hit unexpectedly), holding my hair back and rubbing my back. He’s even taken on the task of cleaning the toilet due to my heightened sensitivity to scents during pregnancy.
Sadly, this was only the beginning of the end for my goddess persona. My back broke out in huge, unsightly pimples that would make any ProActiv ad cringe. When my doctor suggested a pregnancy-safe treatment, guess who had to apply it on my back? Yep, you guessed it—my husband. So now, the stunning goddess he once admired has vomited in the shower at his feet and has oozing blemishes that he has to handle.
But that’s not even the worst part. The reality of pregnancy pooping is a whole different level. I mean, when you finally can go, it feels amazing; but the process itself? It’s like training for labor. The pain and effort involved make every trip to the bathroom a struggle. With our only bathroom located next to our bedroom, my husband has unfortunately heard my battle cries from inside while he lies in bed, undoubtedly questioning what kind of chaos is happening in there.
On top of this, there are the OB appointments he dutifully attends, witnessing various examinations and even a vaginal ultrasound where I was asked if I wanted to insert the probe myself. The image of the pristine goddess has completely evaporated. I’m coming to terms with the fact that, much like the struggles of pregnancy pooping are preparing me for labor, these experiences are mentally prepping me for the reality of having my husband in the delivery room when everything may go haywire.
While my original goddess self has faded during this pregnancy, every night after tending to my back, he places his hand on my baby bump, kisses me, and insists that I have never looked more beautiful to him.
Meanwhile, I gaze at him in disbelief. I don’t question his perception of my beauty; instead, I wonder what sort of magic he’s under that makes him think this way and pray I can access some of it when labor kicks in.
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Summary:
Pregnancy can dramatically change the dynamics of a marriage, stripping away the glamor and mystery that once defined it. As the author navigates the challenges of pregnancy—from morning sickness to awkward doctor’s appointments—she reflects humorously on the loss of her goddess persona. Yet, through it all, her husband continues to express his unwavering love and attraction, highlighting the beauty of their evolving relationship.