I’m Pregnant & Nobody Warned Me I’d Want Sex This Much

Mum Sex Diaries is a first-person, confession-style series that creates space for mums to share honestly about sex: the longing, the uncertainty, the awkward bits, and the moments that are unexpectedly funny. From pregnancy and postpartum sex to exploring intimacy solo, these stories reflect the realities many of us live but rarely say out loud.

When I first found out I was pregnant at 29, I braced myself for all the usual symptoms people talk about — vomiting, food aversions, and maybe even that phase where you suddenly cannot stand your husband.

What I got instead was the complete opposite.

Other than having quite a hearty appetite and feeling occasionally nauseous from week eight of my pregnancy, I became, well, extremely, aggressively horny. The kind where every time I look at my husband, I’m not thinking about the baby; I’m thinking about his, um, magic wand. 

At one point, I could not actually focus at work because I couldn’t wait to go home and have sex.

My husband did not feel the same way

Unfortunately, my husband of one year was going through a very different journey.

While I was discovering a version of myself most men dream about their partners becoming, my husband was busy getting certified as a full-time pregnancy risk assessor, courtesy of Google and Reddit. And the more he read, the more convinced he became that sex might somehow lead to miscarriage.

So began what I can only describe as the most unromantic negotiation phase of our decade-long relationship.

I cited medical facts. I even straight-up asked our gynaecologist during one of our appointments, with my husband sitting right there. I honestly wish you could’ve seen the look on our doctor’s face.

Me: “Hey doc, I’ve got a question. Can we like, smash?”
Doctor: “Huh? Erm, yes, it’s a healthy pregnancy.”
Husband: *Nods*
Me: “Confirm ah, like actual sex hor”
Doctor: “Yes. As long as everything remains normal, it’s fine.”
Me: “You sure ah, please look my husband in the eye and tell him.”
Doctor: “Yes, you can go ahead and have sex.”

At one point, I even found myself explaining that there was simply no way his ‘magic wand’ could physically touch the baby. He remained unconvinced.

Negotiation… Success?

Meanwhile, I had no one to talk to about this. We weren’t ready to announce the pregnancy, and I was the first among my close friends and family to go through it. So there I was, pregnant, very hormonal, and extremely frustrated.

When we finally did have sex when I was 11 weeks pregnant after a lot of convincing, it was crazy… underwhelming.

After all that build-up, it went something like this:

Step one: I orgasmed lightly via the lowest setting on my vibrator (fear of contractions?)

Step two: He slowly tried to penetrate. It was so slow that it brought me back to the time when I lost my virginity. 

Step three: He moved… Slowly… And in fewer than 10 thrusts… 

HE CAME. 

DUE TO THE FACT THAT WE HAVEN’T HAD SEX IN ALMOST A MONTH AND HE DID NOT “MANAGE” HIMSELF DURING THAT TIME. 

I was so pissed that I cried and went to sleep. 

The real reason

Anyway, he later admitted that he couldn’t perform as he wasn’t fully relaxed.

“Dear, it’s not that I’m not horny lah…”, my husband confessed a day later as he took my hand and gently guided it across the hard outline in his shorts.

He explained that every time things started to get heated, his mind would jump straight to the baby. He’d picture all the articles he’d read about complications, and suddenly the idea of going all in, even with the doctor’s reassurance, felt irresponsible to him. Where I saw sex as normal, even comforting, he saw it as something that might jinx a fragile situation.

To him, that one sentence from the doctor — “Yes, you can have sex” — came with invisible fine print. What if this was the one exception? What if we were the unlucky story? It may sound dramatic, but I could tell it was a very real worry for him.

In his mind, I wasn’t just his wife anymore, but the mother of this child. Instead of desire, he felt protective. Alright, I admit, that was kinda sweet.

Second attempt

We tried again the following week, hoping it would get better.

Before pregnancy, we had sex minimally three times a week. Now, we were down to once a week at most (Friday nights, to be exact) and even that felt like it required scheduling and mental preparation.

Ironically, that made things worse.

Because sex became so infrequent, there was suddenly a lot more pressure on each time we did it. He would finish quickly, and I’d end up even more frustrated than before — technically we were having sex, but it wasn’t the kind of sex that left me satisfied.

On top of that, I started overthinking my own body. Was it safe to masturbate often? How intensely can I orgasm? How fast or hard can my husband go during sexy time? 

No one really talks about these things in detail, and as a first-time mum, I found myself constantly second-guessing (and ChatGPT-ing) everything.

Third time’s a charm?

Fast forward to week 13, and things took another unexpected turn.

After one particularly stressful period at work, I experienced some bleeding. We panicked and rushed to the hospital.

TL;DR there wasn’t a clear reason why it happened and the doc said everything was fine. I was prescribed Duphaston (a hormone medication), told to rest, and given one instruction that hit me harder than anything else:

No sex for a month.

I was devastated. I stared at the gynae and muttered, “Huh? For real? What…?”

To make it even more insulting, it was a Friday night and I had been looking forward to our usual scheduled sex all week. A tiny part of me was thinking, why couldn’t this have happened on any other weekday instead so at least I could have taken MC as a consolation prize?

It had taken so much effort just to get my husband comfortable with the idea of sex again, and now we were back to square one. Unsurprisingly, he retreated immediately into full caution mode.

Three days after the saga, I tried to negotiate again, suggesting we at least keep some form of intimacy, like making out or “just the tip”. But he refused, worried that it would inevitably lead to sex.

To be fair, he’s not wrong. That was how I fell pregnant.

Waiting out the longest one month of my life

After thinking about it for a while, I realised there wasn’t very much I could do right now. 

Even if I had convinced my husband to go to second base with me, I would be angry at the fact that we couldn’t hit the home run. So I did the only thing that made sense: I tried to stop thinking about sex. 

But truth to be told, it’s not going well. 

I still want sex… Right now… As I’m telling you my story.  

*Name changed to protect privacy

Have a juicy sex confession to share? Drop us a line at sww@sph.com.sg, and we’ll figure out the rest.