I was never attracted to pregnant women—until I got pregnant myself.
The first time that fulfilling this very particular fantasy came within reach, it was summertime, and I was in a community center meeting room. There was this woman, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her: she was in her early 30s, with dark brown hair and a bright smile. She radiated friendliness, and she was hot. We made eye contact; I found myself sitting by her. On her other side was her ex-girlfriend and current best friend, and the three of us made chit-chat while we waited for class to begin.
Oh, and the class was “Preparing for Childbirth.” My new crush was seven months pregnant, and I was five.
We were both bi, both single mothers-to-be. She had gotten pregnant by chance, during a brief fling with a male lover. I had gotten pregnant by choice, using a sperm donor to conceive after breaking up with my ex-wife at age 37 and hearing the loud tick of my biological clock. I had decided, right around that breakup, that I was done waiting for “the one.” I was the one! I knew single motherhood would be challenging, but I also knew that continuing to wait—and taking the chance of not finding a co-parent or romantic partner in time to have a baby—would leave me with permanent regret.
I’ve always been bi, and I’ve had relationships over the years with men and women; I didn’t expect my own pregnancy to open up this sudden, powerful corner of attraction, but it did. I was lucky enough to have a very healthy, mild pregnancy, with no morning sickness or complications. I was enjoying my body like crazy, and felt sexier than ever.
And, pregnant, I couldn’t stop noticing how hot other pregnant women were. They were curvy, they exuded fierce strength, they seemed irresistible to me. I wanted to be with one. I fantasized about us pressing those new curves up against each other, exploring our now bigger (and much more sensitive) breasts, and just generally seeing how much fun two pregnant bodies could share.
Unfortunately for my newfound attraction, most pregnant women are straight, and also, most pregnant women are in relationships. To meet a woman who was pregnant and into other women and single was the trifecta and the Holy Grail. In that childbirth class, I found myself highly distracted thinking about the possibilities.
But of course, soon I was reminded of one of the underlying reasons I found pregnancy so sexy: it’s incredibly difficult. That fierce strength that comes with it is won at a great cost. As I got to know my foxy new friend from childbirth class, I realized she was having a rough time of it. We talked more and more over the next few classes, and as I tried to gather the courage to ask her out (or, at least, invite her over for a little pregnant-on-pregnant make-out session—those second-trimester hormones were really running the show!), I found out that she felt sick a lot of the time, and felt sexy none of the time. She hadn’t been on a date her whole pregnancy.
I dropped a hint that, if she wanted to change that, I would be there for her. She dropped a hint back that it wasn’t going to happen. I don’t know if it was that the attraction wasn’t mutual, or the general preggo blahs, or both—either way, I respected the boundary and switched my focus from lusting after her to just being a friend. I filed away my pregnant-on-pregnant fantasy, and I’m glad I did. We are friends to this day, three years later, and our kids are now friends, too.
But there was still a vague possibility for the future. My dream had long been to have two children; I’d always loved the idea of creating a set of siblings, and I loved motherhood. With two, I decided, my family would be complete.
So then, late last year, I got pregnant again. My pregnant-on-pregnant fantasy was still on my mind from last time—it was one of the few things I’ve ever fantasized about but haven’t tried.
So I posted an ad on Craigslist, in the women-seeking-women area, but I only heard from men. Surprise! If you’ve ever posted in WSW, you have probably had the same experience. And of course, I’m also into men, but none of the ones emailing me were pregnant! Then I put a profile on OkCupid, with a filter to keep out the guys; but my only responses came from non-pregnant women who thought that what I was doing was cool. Thanks, sisters—but aren’t any of you knocked up? Finally, I told a few non-pregnant female friends about my fantasy, all of whom were supportive, but didn’t know any single/available lady-loving preggos to set me up with. One friend even offered to find and hire for me a pregnant sex worker, but we never got around to making that a reality.
But then, close to the end of my pregnancy, I again met someone who was pregnant and super cute. She had a relaxed, sexy vibe, and I knew from the beginning that, although she wasn’t single, she was in an open relationship with her husband. And, I found out, she was at least a tiny bit into women. However, when I floated the idea—with only about seven weeks left in my pregnancy—she said she takes a while to get to know people and that it wouldn’t work out.
I have six weeks left now, and I’m starting to get the feeling that this is a fantasy that will stay just that. I don’t plan to get pregnant again, so my window of opportunity for pregnant-on-pregnant loving will soon shut. But, on the positive side—and especially during my first pregnancy—I realized that being single, even as a pregnant woman, does not mean being alone. Pregnant, enormous, I was never hurting for dates or even flirtation. It turns out that there are many people who either don’t mind if a single woman is pregnant, or who find it sexy, like I do. One time, I even got hit on by a woman in the restroom of an electronics store whose name rhymes with Nice Try. Sadly for her, she wasn’t my type—she didn’t appear to be pregnant at all!
Andrea Goldstein is a pseudonym for an anonymous preggo looking for a PILF.
Illustration by Jim Cooke.