«Often, since I've been pregnant, I find myself reflecting on my married life. It seems to me that my relationship with my husband has grown deeper, since we decided together to try for a baby we both wanted. I like the way my husband behaves during this time, because, unlike my parents, he isn't overprotective and treats me as a person, not just as the container for his child. With certain friends or relatives, it bothers me to be put at the center of attention simply because I'm a pregnant woman, and I feel embarrassed and irritated. Sometimes, in these situations, it seems to me that I have no real identity of my own.
He, on the other hand, makes an effort to take part in my pregnancy: he's willing to listen to me talk about the baby, comes with me to check-ups, patiently reassures me whenever I'm anxious, and, without giving too much weight to my sudden mood swings, never shows me that slightly mocking indulgence with which so many men treat their pregnant wives.
Still, even though our relationship seems more than satisfying, I notice that in certain situations I feel him distant, different from how I'd like him to be. In the area of sexuality, for instance, things aren't the way they used to be.
Since I've been pregnant, I've noticed that my desire has increased, while he, at times, seems a little inhibited by my physical changes and by the fear of possibly hurting the baby.
This doesn't mean we no longer make love, but that he seeks me out less than before and less than I would like. During this time, in fact, I feel more beautiful, attractive, feminine, and since I'm no longer tormented by the desperate desire to get pregnant, I experience sexuality in a more intense, pleasurable, and satisfying way, while he seems a little awkward and uneasy.
Even though I consider myself satisfied with my relationship with my husband, because I feel much luckier than so many women for whom not even pregnancy is free from arguments, threats, or even violence, I still have to admit to myself that I would like something more. When I have him put a hand on my belly to feel the baby moving, I wish he were less distracted, more involved, and would let the emotions he surely feels during this time show through. At the same time, I realize that the intense, visceral joy I feel cannot be shared with anyone, so much so that I sometimes feel a little alone, even though he's close to me and sweet and affectionate. Deep down, at least for now, this baby belongs only to me: with him I live a relationship so intense and rewarding that it absorbs me completely, pulling me away from others, even from family members or close friends with whom I thought I'd be able to share all my feelings.
This insatiable need for love of mine, which seems to have intensified now that I'm pregnant, is perhaps rooted in a much earlier period of my life. Thinking back to myself as a child, I know I was very loved by my family: I was the firstborn and also the first grandchild, in short, a unique little being to so many people who competed to look after me. And yet I remember that at certain moments it seemed to me I wasn't getting enough affection, or rather that I was getting less than I would have wanted, especially from my mother… It was as if, for her, I was never enough, as if she always expected something more from me than what I did… in short, as if I didn't live up to her ideal of a daughter!»