Written by Stephanie Rubino.
Photo via Stephanie Rubino.
Art by Eve Archer.
Before getting unexpectedly pregnant at 22, I’d only ever had two relationships. My window for sexual experimentation was very short lived, and — to be honest — it wasn’t until after I had a child that I really tapped into my sexuality.
So, I guess you could say my sexual journey has taken a nonlinear path.
At first, it wasn’t easy being a new mother and sexual young woman. Splitting up with my son’s father at seven months pregnant made intimacy feel like a distant memory, and the idea of starting over with another person was petrifying to me. Mainly, I felt vulnerable because I didn’t feel at home in my body. The larger my stomach grew, the more my body shifted. I felt all stretched out and my ass was growing by the minute. After my natural birth, I went from a full B to a whopping double D. While most girls my age were celebrating graduation with fancy Caribbean vacations, I was home lactating, sitting on a donut, and getting used to all the unexpected physical side effects of pushing out a kid. Perfect.
A few months after I had my son, I started working weekends to bring in money and distract myself from the repetitive home life I had. I was a full-time stay-at-home mom and student. I had been reading, writing, changing diapers, and nursing. A change of scenery was much needed, and something easy at a diner was the perfect fit. Except, I forgot that part of the job meant having to interact with people…especially men.
As a counter girl, I avoided eye contact with men at all costs. But then, he came in. He was not just any man. He had an amazing head of hair, sun-kissed skin, and a smile that was soothing and completely irresistible.
Weeks after checking him out from the counter, the ice was broken and he invited me ever-so-politely to have a cup of coffee. I nearly shat my pants. I was a twenty-two-year old, with a baby, working at a diner, trying to finish school. I froze “It’s just coffee, it’s just coffee. Be nice, act normal.” Instead of replying like the civilized and educated woman that I was, all I could muster up was, “Just so you know, I have a son.” Seriously?! Who the hell responds to a question like that?! I was mortified and couldn’t believe the words that had just come out of my mouth. Of course he replied with a smirk and a smooth unhesitating, “Oh wow. Congrats. We can talk about it later. What time do you get out?” I honestly would have dropped by pants and let him fuck me right over the counter then and there. He was fit, compact, and understanding, and I was, well, ready.
After a few coffee dates and dinner, I gave into the charm. He was comfortable in his own skin and I wanted a piece of it. So there it was: casual-yet-scheduled weekend encounters with the hot customer from the diner.
I learned things I never knew, with a body that was new, with a man who had no knowledge of what I had looked like prior to my baby.
Our encounters were definitely unlike anything I had ever experienced. He was a seasoned bachelor and had a life very different from mine. His apartment was a showroom of travel souvenirs, workout equipment, mountains of collared shirts, design sketches lining his walls, and a functional bar. I, on the other hand, was still trying to come out of the baby bubble I had lived in for the past year. When it came to sex, I felt lost.
Luckily, I was with a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to be patient and listen. He was also sexily demanding. Jesus, he could have coached a Blow Job 101 class. “Slow down, baby it feels good. Ahh! Yeah, just like that. Mmm… just the tip. Come here, get on top. Just like that. Come here…Spank! You like that? Spank!” We’d take a break, his dick still hanging hard and ready, and then he’d smile and get back to fucking my life up. Literally.
I truly learned to enjoy sex with him. I learned that taking it slow didn’t have to equate to gentle or romantic lovemaking. Slow just meant being really in the moment. I learned that there was more to sex than just getting naked. After all, I was nursing and could never let my breasts free of my nursing bra. They were huge, and by the time I saw him during the evenings, they were beyond engorged. Random fact: when a nursing woman orgasms, her body jet streams milk, better known as “let down.” It’s no joke. It rains.
The final hurdle in learning to let go and enjoy myself was simple: coming to terms with my stomach. I thought it looked like it got into a battle with a cheese grater and lost. I would secretly try and keep my shirt on and cover my mid section, but he was reassuring that nothing was wrong. In retrospect, I don’t think I would have made it past our first encounter had he not been so patient with me.
So to the generous man who gave me those refreshing orgasms, I say thank you. It was exactly what I needed. The chemistry was new, the maneuvering was perfect, and the dialogue was short. I learned things I never knew, with a body that was new, with a man who had no knowledge of what I had looked like prior to my baby.
I was no longer lean and tight. I had used my womb and I had scar tissue from natural labor. But I was also a newly sexual person. I was marked up, but I was ripe. This new identity was mine, and I’ve owned it ever since. This is just the beginning of sex after motherhood for me — this mom bod is getting it on.
Stephanie is a single millennial Mama in NYC, who started R+S as a safe space to share her experiences and for non traditional families to connect across every walk if life. Inspired by her experience in raising a precocious wild child who goes by the name of Sebaçi, she is currently exploring the balance of life as a woman and mother and pursuing a career as a postpartum doula.