I recognise that look; that’s the look that started it all off all those years ago across the dance floor of a dark, Girl Bar night. That come-home-with-me-complete-stranger look. It was love at first sight. I woke up in your bed the next morning. But this is the couch. The TV is still on. Then I realise that’s no come-hither look, it’s the hundred-yard stare of an exhausted mama who’s fallen asleep mid-sentence with her eyes open. Yep, we’re mothers now.
I admit it, I had created fanciful visions of lesbian motherhood in my mind. My body would not only bounce back, but it would bounce into the shape of Sofia Loren. I would look like a Mediterranean Queen, my cherubic baby at my lush breast, while my Amazonian wife fed me grapes and chocolate. We would laze in the morning glow of a sun-drenched bed with our angel between us.
Listen to our latest podcast, Year One, about finally get a baby to sleep. (Post continues after audio.)
What mostly happened, though, was finding myself in a heap on the floor with a suckling beast attached to my nipple, and yes, I do mean my baby. Other times when I made it to bed, I’d end up sleeping on the very ribbing of the mattress with a small toddler sprawled across a queen-sized bed with hand placed protectively on Mama’s booby whilst jamming a foot in his other mamas (whom we very progressively dubbed Ima for our shared, though tenuous, Jewish heritage) ribs. Two mothers desperate for the touch of someone who didn’t pass wind every 20 minutes, we’d reach hands across the great divide and smile drowsily at one another.
See, the pickle here is that lesbian don’t really do quickies. Feel free to pipe in here, ladies, but in the meantime, I’ll go on. We lady lovers generally spend a seemingly insane amount of time ensuring the other is, well, looked after. It’s one of the major plusses of lady love; sure, we may not get a man to hold doors open or loosen a jar of jalapeños (I know, you’re laughing too, right ladies?) but sexual equality in the bedroom is a given.
Top Comments
" I wanted to hide my body. It was damaged goods."
No, it's not. A lactating , fertile looking mother is a picture of abundance. Never be ashamed of how you were created to naturally be as a mother. Your body is not damaged goods, it was just in waiting before, and now has reached its full beauty.
I think it's important to not be ashamed of how bodies change over time and life events, but it's also true that not everyone finds "lactating, fertile" post-baby bodies a thing of beauty or erotic desire. I get that some people really dig it and like to celebrate the goddess etc etc, but others don't find those changes compatible with sexual attraction.
You are right on the money Cath. Beautiful comment. I know the roller-coaster of early mothering moods can at times make feeling this hard. Praised be to mama bodies in all their beauty!
I don't believe that every single woman is solely a generous lover. I know from experience that is not true.
True. Some just get lucky.
Yeah, I thought that too.
Maybe lesbian ladies are?
Sorry to hear :(