My Secret Longing

Frustration and other problems

Being pregnant should come with a disclaimer, "you will be subjected to unwarranted changes and will start questioning your sanity." I thought the worst was over when first-trimester nausea and vomiting went away. But I was in for a rude awakening at the end of my second trimester. I slowly started to accept the changes in my body during the sixth month and, I even believed I looked good. People I knew in the university and sometimes even strangers in the road or shop said pregnancy suited me.

But by the end of the sixth month, I started to see unruly changes in my mood. In addition to those changes, I had to be around that annoying man who wouldn't go to the office. Three weeks had gone by when he didn't seem to budge. I initially thought he did that because he felt guilty and would soon go back, but nothing like that happened. He stayed at home all the time and drove me crazy.

Back when I was not pregnant, I truly believed violence was not a solution to any problem. That was why I liked being a diplomat, trying to solve issues through words and not weapons. But the events that transpired at the beginning of my third trimester said otherwise. I couldn't guess if it was my hormones or the Brazil heat that made me want to bite Raul's head off.

Whatever he did or said made me angry and, I wanted to slap him every time he burnt food or didn't mop the floor well. Our roles got reversed because, in those three weeks, he was the one who cooked and moped the floor. It was his fault anyway as he wouldn't let me do anything. But that irritating man knew next to nothing when it came to house chores.

He was used to throwing his worn shirt or pants on the floor as it was either me or Rosie who would pick it up and put it for the wash. I picked it up before and washed it without complaint but, the six-month pregnant version of me couldn't agree with that. One day I picked up his gym shorts lying on the floor, used them for moping the bathroom, and threw them in the dust bin. Raul came to me the next day and said, " Baby, you wrongly threw my shorts in the dust bin instead of the laundry bag ." I said I threw that knowingly and even mopped the bathroom floor with it.

I was spoiling for a fight but, he didn't take the bait. He understandingly shook his head and simply said, " I will put it in the basket then." I even threw ladles on him for burning his steak but, he didn't even flinch. As if wanting to bite his head off was not enough, I wanted to jump his bones.

It felt like I lived with multiple personality disorder. As a sensible person, I wanted to maintain distance from Raul, thinking our relationship status was a big question mark and having sex would only complicate matters. But the insane part of me told me he was my husband, and I was entitled to use him.

I had heard people saying it is your teen years known for uncontrollable or crazy sexual desires. But I didn't have a typical teenage life where I could explore my feelings or bodily reactions. It was a period of constant struggle for me, trying hard not to feel worse about what others said about my appearance or how I behaved. So it felt like I was being compensated for my lost teenage years as I was constantly thinking about sex. He didn't go easy on me either that bastard wore only sweat pants most of the time and, he even got his faint six-pack abs back as he had more time to work out. Even if I threw a shirt on him to wear it, he wouldn't, saying it was too hot. It further made me angry and, I was on the verge of insanity. So to assure me that I was not going mad, I finally called my doctor to ask her advice.

What she suggested made me want to bang my head against the wall. She simply said, "have sex with your husband," like it was the easiest thing in the world. Instead of saying what was going on between us, I told her that I felt uncomfortable having sex with my pregnant body. She said it was totally normal to have increased libido during pregnancy and, there was nothing wrong with me. She said I shouldn't avoid sex, thinking I don't look good, but I should discuss it with my husband.