After childbirth, the thought of resuming sexual activity after that six-week break can be daunting. Uncertainties loom, and body confidence may not be at its peak. Your partner has likely witnessed you in various vulnerable states since the arrival of your child. For instance, mine observed me navigating postpartum life while sporting a breastfeeding pillow that resembled an inner tube around my waist. Those early weeks were all about survival. However, things felt different, and so did I. Would everything feel the same?
As I approached that first intimate moment post-baby, I was gripped with the same anxieties. In short, the answer to my questions was, “Probably not.” The experience was altered, and I was altered too.
But one thing remained unchanged: I was still faking my orgasms.
Growing up, my understanding of sex was framed negatively. Conversations around it were laced with shame, and my only glimpse into sexual intimacy came from a fuzzy Playboy channel I stumbled upon during adolescence. I assumed sex was quick, loud, and straightforward. The first time I tried masturbation, I gave up after a minute, convinced something was inherently wrong with me. Years passed before I attempted it again.
When I began a romantic relationship in high school, I was disheartened to find that my experiences didn’t align with what I thought should happen. During my first intimate encounter, I faked an orgasm, clueless about its true nature, and believed I must be defective since it seemed to take too long. It wasn’t until a lonely, determined night spent exploring my body that I finally experienced my first orgasm.
Did this revelation transform my sexual experiences? Not at all. I remained deeply uncomfortable discussing sex, and the idea of vocalizing my needs was terrifying. I didn’t want to be perceived as demanding or difficult, especially when I sensed that the partners I was with had no qualms about their desires. This societal conditioning, encouraging women to be accommodating and agreeable, was deeply ingrained.
In my early twenties, I met my husband, who was genuinely attentive in the bedroom. However, I wasn’t ready to embrace that. The first time I faked an orgasm with him, he seemed doubtful, but I insisted it was genuine. I would simulate an orgasm after a few minutes, gauging when I thought he had enough. If he continued, I’d fake it again, perpetuating a cycle of deception. He even remarked on how seemingly effortless it was for me, and I simply nodded along.
Rather than taking advantage of the mutual pleasure we could have shared, I clung to my old habits, hesitant to express my needs even though he would have welcomed honesty. I felt embarrassed to ask for attention and time. Though I had matured since those days of watching scrambled adult content, the male-centric portrayals of intimacy lingered in my psyche.
Women often face a wage gap and discomfort in requesting what they deserve, whether it’s a raise, assistance with household responsibilities, or simply an orgasm. Seeking anything beyond what is handed to us can feel wrong, but that shouldn’t be the case.
The trouble with dishonesty early in a relationship is that it becomes increasingly difficult to rectify as time passes. As I settled into my marriage, complete with a home, children, and shared responsibilities, addressing my past dishonesty seemed almost impossible. When dissatisfaction emerged in our sex life, I sought a way to confront my issues without revisiting years of deceit.
The arrival of our second child brought a new perspective. My first experience of intimacy after giving birth was no longer viewed with fear; it was filled with hope. You may think that sounds overly dramatic, but try being apprehensive about experiencing pleasure with someone you’ve loved for nearly a decade. Recognizing that sex would be different for both of us allowed me to be honest about what I wanted, what felt good, and what didn’t.
That night marked the first time I had truly honest sex. I refrained from faking sounds or rushing through the experience. I communicated what wasn’t working, and we navigated the moment together. I didn’t have an orgasm immediately, nor on the second attempt, but eventually, we discovered what worked for me. After years of sexual experiences, I began to genuinely enjoy them.
Let me emphasize: the fulfillment of receiving what you desire during intimacy far surpasses the awkwardness of asking for it. It is a significant difference that compels me to share this message and encourage women everywhere to communicate their desires in the bedroom.
For more insights on navigating intimacy and motherhood, check out our post on creating a home insemination kit, as well as this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination. Additionally, if you’re planning for holiday gatherings, you can find smart ways to shop organically within your budget.
Summary
This article discusses the author’s journey of overcoming the habit of faking orgasms. After giving birth, she reflects on her insecurities and the challenge of being honest about her sexual needs. The turning point comes after the birth of her second child, where she learns to communicate openly with her partner, leading to a more fulfilling sexual experience. The narrative emphasizes the importance of honesty in intimate relationships and encourages women to advocate for their desires.