Hi, I’m Muirnah. I love sex, but I can’t have it for 8 weeks because I had a hysterectomy.
In plain terms, my uterus and cervix were removed, and in my case, tubes as well. Now, if you need a brush up on female anatomy, the cervix is at the top of the vaginal canal, and the bottom of the uterus. So, if you take off the top of the vagina, it must be “cuffed” to be closed again. Because of this, I cannot have anything penetrating my vagina or anus for 8. Whole. Weeks.
Z suggested one morning, once I felt well enough to be horny, that I have some Hitachi Time. And like I’d been punched in the gut, I broke down and cried.
My marriage had been sexless for a while before it ended. Using the Hitachi to orgasm became a daily thing. I was usually in too much pain to use dildos. It was all I had, and my resentment grew towards my wife and the Hitachi.
So while I do use it sometimes, those circumstances are supplemental. Treats, if you prefer. Plus, I was so desensitized it took me 5-10 minutes to cum with the damn thing anyway. So the thought of just using it on myself because I can’t have intercourse is a complete turn off and as we found out in this situation, a heartwrenching trigger.
Sex is important to me. My love language is touch. I struggled with not knowing how Z and I would be able to share the intimacy we both would crave without having sex.A lot of it was also contingent on my recovery and how quickly I would feel well enough to think about sex (answer: several hours) let alone be well enough to do things and move around (answer: 6 days).
Originally, I had planned to tell the nitty gritty of how to get off when you can’t have intercourse. And I still might, but honestly, it’s hard to articulate. I want to tell you how much it hurts to miss that intimacy. I’m not talking general sexual urges, although those are equally difficult. Like, damn, I just wanna fuck! But, that feeling, that connection when He is deep inside me and He looks into my eyes… It cannot be duplicated and it cannot be replaced. We’ve tried.
Sure, we’ve had fun, but the truth is, it cuts me deeply. It kills me that I can’t feel that connection. And a few nights ago, it surfaced in a big way. We were being as close as we could – His cock on my labia and clit, just feeling our bodies together… But I was so wet, I was terrified He would slip in. And as soon as that terror reached me, I was crying. Not just tears, but sobbing and heartache. He held me, and told me it was all going to be okay, that He still wanted me, that He always would.
Last night, this version of our fucking brought Him to orgasm. I was happy, but not as happy as I wanted to be. Yes, I have given plenty blowjobs, and Him cumming on my pussy was definitely hot. But it wasn’t the same. Nothing will ever be able to replace that intimacy.
Logically, I know this is temporary. Logically, I also know it’s for the best. I mean, this surgery has already changed my life. Like, literally, I feel like myself again! No chronic pain, no constant cramping, no bleeding! And yet, there is a part of me that isn’t whole without this intimacy. And I am sure I am not the first to feel like this. I know I won’t be the last. And now that we begin week 3, I am that much closer to week 8.
The thing that is driving me to be okay is knowing that He feels the same way. He misses me terribly, despite the fact that He can and does have sex. (I am grateful that He has that outlet, for His happiness and hers. She’s a beautiful person and has extended kindness after kindness.)
But our poly steps do feel 1,000 times more difficult because I can’t use sex to reconnect with Z. But *knowing* that it’s hard for Him too, that He really does miss it, and me, and our lovemaking…
We will do plenty of fun things in the mean time. Last night we had some impact play. I’m grateful that my body is healing enough that I can do things like this, to reaffirm our dynamic in my mind. I am going back to work Monday, and I am looking forward to the routine and distraction. And the best part is, much of our weekdays incorporate my servitude, and what a beautiful focus that will be.
In short, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, practice patience. Communicate. It’s okay to spend an hour together just saying you miss each other. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay, to not be okay. Because you will be. And when you’re on the other side, you’ll be able to look back and see just how strong and capable you are. (And yes, that’s me talking to myself as much as you, my reader friend.
When you struggle to reach the top of the mountain, and you’re *so close* but not there yet, don’t forget how far you’ve already come. It matters. You matter.