Anti-antenatal classes
A lesbian couple at ante-natal classes? Talk about cats among the proverbial pigeons.
After much deliberation, Roxi and I decided we would go to antenatal classes. Sitting through a two-and-a-half-hour lecture every Wednesday night for six weeks was clearly not Roxi's idea of fun. But my dear Rox has recently learnt that whatever pregnant girlfriend thinks is best, is probably worth going along with. Still, there we were, two women amongst 20 bright-faced mom-and-dad couples and even I was beginning to doubt my decision.
A sex therapist with years of experience
Within the first 10 minutes my concerns intensified. Our antenatal lecturer admitted that she was suffering from jet lag and hoped she 'could keep it together' for the next couple of hours. I bloody hoped so to. She then announced that our first talk was going to be on sex, conducted by a sex therapist with many years of experience.
This, we discovered, meant that our sex expert was 102 years old and clearly had years of bonking behind her. She decided to start her lecture by a discussion on how after birth, the female libido drops, mostly due to hormonal fluctuations, although a sore koek also has something to do with it. She looked at us pointedly and said, 'The libido does not return to normal until at least three months after the birth, but for many many women it takes much longer than this.' She paused, glared at us and continued. 'I am telling you this so that you know what to expect. So that this doesn't develop into a problem that ultimately leads to the demise of your relationship.'
I glanced behind me at the class and was met with a sea of stricken faces. Everyone looked distinctly drained. Were those tears welling up in Roxi's eyes? I patted her leg and smiled reassuringly. Don't know why – I was as freaked as the rest of them, but it seemed like the adult thing to do.
Nooooooo! Don't do it Roxi.
She then launched into a description of the differences between male and female sexual libidos present in husband and wife relationships. Now if there's one thing that Roxi can't cope with is not being acknowledged. I could hear her thinking, 'What about us?! We're also a couple. And we're in the front row! Can't you make reference to us?!' She started to shift in her seat. I gulped. Please don't say anything, please don't say anything, please don't say anything, I urged in my mind. 'Any questions?' the sex therapist asked. Nooooooooo! The class was quiet. I stopped breathing. And then before I could cling to her arm, Roxi's hand shot up. It reminded me of the time that she thought it would be fun to bid at an auction and nearly won us R3000's worth of really ugly pottery vases which she thought was a set of bongo drums.
'Yes?' asked sex expert. I closed my eyes. 'Is this libido thing the same for all women?' Roxi asked. I don't remember the answer. I was too busy spluttering from relief that she hadn't asked a question about our sex life. By the end of the class the bright faces had changed to ones awash with terror at the impending havoc our babies were going to bring to our relationships. We were united in our fear and the feeling that sometimes it's just easier being in denial.
Bring a pillow
Next week we're doing natural birthing techniques and have been told to bring a pillow. A pillow? What the hell for? Maybe to scream into when the horror of what we've all gotten ourselves into sinks in just a little bit deeper...
Susan Newham is a journalist living in Cape Town with her partner Roxi Blake, who's a graphic designer. Susan fell pregnant after being inseminated with the semen of an identity release donor.
Any tips for a slightly panicky Susan and Roxi? Share below.
- Women24