After welcoming my second child into the world, the thought of resuming intimacy after that six-week break was daunting. The uncertainty loomed large, and I wasn’t exactly brimming with body confidence. Sure, my partner had seen me in various states of undress since the arrival of our little one. He had witnessed me strolling around topless with a breastfeeding pillow strapped around me like a flotation device, emblematic of those early days spent trying to navigate new motherhood. But everything felt different now, and I was left wondering if our intimacy would ever feel the same again.
As I approached that first intimate moment post-baby, I was filled with apprehension. The short answer to my concerns? “Probably not.” Everything felt altered, including me. The one constant? I was still faking my orgasms.
I grew up in an environment where discussions about sex were shrouded in negativity and shame. My only exposure to sexual experiences was through a fuzzy Playboy channel that my parents didn’t know we could access. Watching those women on my snowy screen, I mistakenly believed that sex was quick and noisy. When I stumbled upon the concept of masturbation, my first attempt left me feeling broken, and I didn’t try again for years.
Fast forward to high school, where I began exploring intimacy with my first boyfriend. Disappointment struck when I realized that none of it worked for me. The first time we got intimate, I faked an orgasm, having no idea what it truly felt like. It wasn’t until a long, solitary night of exploration that I finally understood my own body.
Did this revelation change my sexual experiences? Not really. I was still incredibly uncomfortable discussing my needs. The thought of guiding my partners or expressing what I desired felt impossible. I didn’t want to seem demanding or difficult, even though I knew they would be supportive. It’s disheartening how society teaches women to be agreeable and accommodating, often at the expense of their own desires.
In my early twenties, I met my husband, who is remarkably attentive and caring in bed. However, I still wasn’t honest with him about my experiences. The first time I faked it with him, he appeared skeptical, but I insisted I had climaxed. I would fake it after what seemed like an adequate amount of time, repeatedly pretending until he finished. He even remarked on how easy it was for me, and I just smiled and accepted it.
Instead of embracing the chance for a fulfilling sexual encounter, I reverted to my old habits, not wanting to hurt his feelings. I was too embarrassed to ask for what I needed. Those early images of sex, crafted by men for men, continued to linger in my mind, despite my growing maturity.
We often discuss issues like the wage gap and women’s reluctance to ask for what they deserve, whether it be a raise, help at home, or even an orgasm. There’s a societal barrier that makes seeking more feel unjustified, and that’s simply not right.
The challenge with dishonesty in relationships is that it only compounds over time. As life progresses—mortgages, marriage, children—the chance to address those early fabrications diminishes until it feels impossible. I found myself entrenched in my relationship, feeling increasingly unfulfilled in our sex life, while the opportunity to address my struggles felt like a fleeting memory.
Then came the birth of our second child. This time, my perspective shifted. That first sexual encounter after delivery filled me with hope instead of dread. It may sound dramatic, but consider the relief of finally feeling comfortable with the man I had loved for nearly a decade. I recognized that both of us understood that things would feel different, and I decided it was time to be honest about my experiences and desires.
That night marked a turning point; for the first time, I experienced genuine intimacy. I didn’t feign pleasure or rush through it. I communicated openly about what worked and what didn’t. There was no pretense. Although I didn’t reach orgasm immediately, we collaborated to find what pleased me.
After half a lifetime of sexual experiences, I finally began to enjoy it. The thrill of receiving what I wanted and needed far surpassed any awkwardness I felt in asking for it. It’s a powerful feeling, one that makes me want to encourage other women to speak up and express their desires in the bedroom.
Don’t repeat my mistakes. Be honest, communicate openly, and let your partner know what you truly need.
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Summary:
After years of faking orgasms due to a lack of communication and comfort, a woman finds empowerment and pleasure in her sex life after the birth of her second child. By embracing honesty and open dialogue with her partner, she transforms her intimate experiences and encourages others to voice their desires.