Fitting in and coming out

Gaius, Small and I went to Polyday this weekend. Jemmy had family commitments and couldn't make it, which was a shame, as it is always nice to find a space where we can be open without it feeling weird.

Going as a couple with a baby was pertinent to one of the discussions we had about polyamorous parenting, however, which was about being "out". Polyamorous relationships can take many forms, but because we are a married male/female couple, who live in a traditional family home with a baby, we look pretty normal to the outside world. There are sometimes odd looks from neighbours (who probably think that Gaius is a serial adulterer, and some of Jemmy's social acquaintances must know that something is going on between us) but in the main, we present as pretty normal.

There are poly families who don't find it so easy or desirable to blend into the mainstream, (especially those whose relationships don't slot into the primary/secondary dynamic as ours as done so far.) And there is the possibility that we might eventually become one of them, not only because we don't know who we'll fall for next, or what relationship setup will work for us in the future, but because there is the Small in the picture now. She's going to grow up, meet our friends and lovers: in short, she's going to know. On the one hand, the idea of being raised knowing about the many ways you can love is wonderful to us, but on the other, she isn't going to understand the concepts of "private" or "out", and this may very well force us out of the closet for good, one day.

This is a little daunting for both of us. At Polyday, we chatted with friends and met new people, many of whom were interested in how our daughter would be affected by our other lovers. But they were interested without being dubious that it would work, and the real world might not be quite so kind.

We got home late that night, after having to stop twice on the motorway to feed the Small and help her get to sleep. She was still asleep when we arrived at Jemmy's house to drop something off and say good night. It was late, by then, and we were keen to get her home and into bed, so only enough time for a kiss and a few words about when we'd see each other next. One day, she might force our other relationships into the open, but for now, she makes fitting them in at all enough of a challenge.

Breasts

When we discussed breastfeeding in our antenatal classes, we were told that although breastfeeding is perfectly natural, it may take us a little while before we are confident enough to feed our babies in public.  For obvious reasons, it takes a bit of a mental adjustment to think of whapping out one of your tits in Costa Coffee as acceptable behaviour. 

It will surprise no one who knows me well that I made this adjustment very quickly, but then, those who know me well know that nudity is a common side-effect at many of my social gatherings. 

Of course, there is a big difference between getting your boobs out for an orgy, and getting your boobs out to feed your newborn daughter, but even so, I think the orgies made the transition far easier for me.

I began breastfeeding our daughter about 5 minutes after her birth (as soon as she stopped screaming, pretty much).  At this point, with my legs in stirrups, waiting for someone to stitch me up, the relevant area pointing at the door (oh, the glamour of birth), showing a boob to the hospital staff was small potatoes.  Since then, however, I have breastfed her in cafes and pubs, in Sainsbury's, on benches in the middle of the highstreet and last week, in a shoeshop. I would not have been comfortable casually showing my nipples to strangers on the street pre-baby, but I am now.

People who don't have sex with piles of their friends at once (SUCKS TO BE THEM) might be surprised to know that the nudity at our parties is frequently non-sexual. Despite the very open appreciation of people's bodies, hanging out with your top off, or even totally naked, at a sex party is often just relaxed socialising.

I think that having lots of people fondle my breasts at once has, therefore, paradoxically, made me more ready to see my breasts as non-sexual. Not that they aren't still sexy, just that they now have dual purpose. Like a nice pair of legs can be devastatingly sexy, but still useful for walking around and fine to display in public.

But speaking of legs: can you imagine if you had legs your whole life, and your lovers told you how gorgeous they were, and wanted to touch them, but you never used them to walk or run? Finding out that this beautiful part of your body could also be incredibly useful would only enhance your enjoyment of them, surely? The fact that my daughter is not only nourished by my boobs, but is growing and thriving because of what they can do has made me like them more. I'll probably get tired of the leaking and the night-time engorgement eventually, but for now, I'm appreciating my body more than ever, for what it can do, rather than what other people might think of it. And flashing the general public, too.

First time together.

I don't think I'll blog about the birth. Unless anyone particularly wants to know? Jemmy was one of the first people I called when it was over, anyway. Those first few hours with her on the outside were magical, and I wanted to share some of it with him.

The hospital was very close to his house, so we had imagined that he would visit me there, but as it turns out, I didn't stay long enough for any visits at all. So, I think Small was three days old when Jemmy came over to our place to meet her. It was the day my milk "came in", so my breasts were like sacks of sand. He had offered to cook us dinner (he is awesome like that) which was appreciated beyond measure. This was my daughter's first day experiencing milk, and it was a hit, so whenever she was awake, she wanted to suck. Add to that that it was also her stomach's first day digesting more than a teaspoon of liquid at a time, and there was also a lot of mess. It was more than enough work for two people without thinking of cooking, let alone two people who had barely slept for four or five days, one of whom could barely walk due to stitches.

The things that will stay with me were that he cried when he held her, and he made us a salad with pears in it.

He also made a risotto, which was perfect as I could eat it with one hand as I fed her yet again. Breastfeeding made me incredibly hungry in the early weeks, and I was still replacing lost calories from labour, so I ate twice as much as either of them. And stuff sentmental wank, it was one of the best meals I've ever had.

Spending time with both of them together recharged me in a way I didn't predict. I'm very close to our family, but I can relax a different part of myself when I'm with Jemmy. Experiencing that whilst adjusting to being a parent turned out to be just what I needed.

It was, of course, different. One of the things about having a long term relationship with someone you do not live with, is that sex stays a big feature. When Jemmy and I plan time together, we assume sex will happen. Because we live together, Gaius and I spend a larger proportion of our time together not having sex. This is one reason, I think, that secondary poly relationships can feel slightly unreal, because the ordinary, every day stuff just doesn't feature, at least, not to the same extent.

So all this means that not having sex with Gaius feels less significant than not having sex with Jemmy, because I am more used to not having sex with Gaius. Maybe, also, because new parents expect a temporary cessation of their sex lives, but people (obviously) don't often talk about how your other sexual relationships might change.

I did not think I would be noticing the absense of sex three days after pushing a human being out of my vagina, but there you go.