Monty’s pregnant, but ‘having fun trying’ she was not…
So I’m with child, up the duff, sprog bound, eating for two, got a bun in the oven. Or as most simply say… pregnant.
After having a miscarriage mid last year this is a truly welcomed bub. When the ‘pregnant’ sign sprung up 13 weeks ago on the good old stick, I was rapt. Naturally a little anxious but also ready for my belly to get massive and my boobs to burst (into a B cup, come on please grow to a B).
I must be honest though, the process to get this mini human inside me was so terribly un-romantic.
This time around though, especially after losing one pregnancy I managed to turn falling pregnant into a full time job. I knew when I was ovulating almost to the second. I licked my ‘Maybe Baby’ more times than is socially acceptable and I found us falling into the strict calendar ‘love making’ routine. Too much info?
My baby daddy was naturally delighted with the prospect of the bedroom activity when we decided to breed again. In his mind it would be the bonk fest of the century. We would go at it like teens and it would be wildly wonderful and super duper sexy.
It was anything but. Purposeful bonking is the most unromantic activity ever. Ovulation sex put simply, sucks.
I truly wanted to make it a fun and sexy process. In my mind I was going to turn into a wild sexy minx and impress my man with some limber new moves I’d magically pull out from nowhere. But, as soon as the ferns on my Maybe Baby sprung (ferns mean ovulating) my mind clicked into business gear. Instead of whispering naughtiness in his ear, I would yell from the bedroom ‘lets do thisssss nowwwww’. For some reason that didn’t rock his socks.
During the ovulation duration he also heard, “So I kinda want to put fake tan on today, I think we should just go do it now”, and “After you finish that piece of pizza let’s do it, I’m ovulating again”. I thought guys liked to do it no matter what?. Apparently Pizza eating foreplay isn’t for everyone.