I want to start off by saying that I’m writing this because I’ve committed to writing honestly about my marriage, even during the hardest times, or about topics I’m not comfortable being fully honest about. Like this one. I know it’s my blog, and I can write (or not write) about anything I want to, but one of my “blog goals” is to be relatable and give some perspective into some of those harder-to-admit marital issues.
Full disclosure: this post is going to be blunt. And graphic. So, if you don’t want to hear about my sex life, just skip this post.
A few months ago, I warmed up to the idea of having kids. Not so much in the “let’s actively try” way, but in the “let’s not proactively prevent” way. What this meant is that I was no longer on birth control (though I’ve been off it for years since I hated how I felt on it), and Sven was no longer wearing condoms. However, I was generally pretty aware of when I was most fertile, and did not want to have intercourse during this time. (Not that Sven was complaining about the blow jobs.) Somehow, the idea of me getting pregnant even if we were only having sex during “non-peak” days was my way of easing into it, with the goal of gradually becoming more receptive. In fact, this was one of my New Year’s goals.
Two months ago, I (reluctantly) threw caution to the wind, and we had full-on unprotected sex in the middle of my cycle. I was acutely aware of this over the next two weeks, and actually thought I was experiencing some very early pregnancy symptoms (turns out it was the flu, which was only the second time ever in my life I’d had it). I wasn’t terrified at the brief possibility of being pregnant, but the feeling was definitely not, say, excitement. Let’s just say Sven and I have been doing it with condoms ever since. New Year’s goal #fail. Though, I do still have nine months left to come around!
I’m ashamed to admit this because I know there are many people who desperately want to have children, and I do not take this for granted. I’m also ashamed to admit this because it makes me feel like if I do ever have kids, it’s now on the record that I kind of really didn’t want them. I’m ashamed because I know people might judge me by saying I don’t ever deserve to bring children into the world, and that I’d be a horrible mother if I did.
But I’m admitting this because it’s oddly liberating in a way, and I’m trying to justify the fact that it’s still okay to view myself as a potentially-future mother who still deserves all the wonderful joys of parenthood, should it choose me someday – even if I can imagine just as joyful of a life without kids. Before I met Sven, I had always said that I could happily be single forever, though I never ruled out marriage. Now that I’m married to Sven, I cannot imagine a life without him in it. Falling in love with Sven, so suddenly and unexpectedly, was terrifying, thrilling, exciting, and the best thing that ever happened to me.
The hardest thing for me to admit is that I am terrified of the fact that my potentially-future child will be one of the best things that will ever happen to me. I know I will love my kids as much as I love Sven, and that I will never take them for granted. I know they will become more important than my career and all of my unrealized selfish ambitions. And as strange as that may sound, I’m simply not ready for that yet.
To be continued…
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