This Is My Body: Dealing With Wedding Night Nerves

Sometimes I think I really must be a lunatic.  I just like talking to people about sex.  Well, about chastity, NFP, and the Theology of the Body, specifically, so hopefully not so crazy?  Anyway, week after week, the most-read posts on this blog are the ones I featured two years ago on preparing for your wedding night when you are virgins, when you aren't, and when one of you has a sexual past and the other doesn't.  If you missed them, you can catch them here:

Be Not Afraid: The Sex Post

Be Not Afraid: The Sex Post, Part 2

Guest Post from Trista: Sex is Replacable; Love Is Not

Or maybe you're coming to this from a different place. In the time since these posts were published, I've gotten emails every few months from brides-to-be expressing the nervousness they're feeling as their wedding nights draw closer.  Thanks to what I attribute entirely to grace and well-timed formation, neither Andrew nor I were anxious about our wedding night, but I completely get that there's so much anticipation, conventional expectations, and a lifetime of experiences personal to just you, all packed into one night--it can understandably add up to major nerves.  So here, humbly and imperfectly (and hopefully not too awkwardly…), speaking only from my experience and the candid thoughts I've shared back and forth with other brides, are my thoughts on what seem to be common wedding-night concerns, and how to approach them with love and a spirit of openness.

If you're nervous about physical pain:
Again, I can only speak for myself here.  In my experience, our first few times were uncomfortable.  Yet with complete honesty, I can say the pain was coupled with a very true, pure sense of joy at finally being able to unite myself fully to Andrew and express our love in all the ways we'd been longing for our whole engagement.

The Cross is sometimes described as the agony and the ecstasy, and I meditated on that sometimes during those first few months.  To unite yourself to Christ is to accept suffering, but to unite yourself to him is also to trust in the promise of fulfillment, in every longing of our hearts.  Just so we're clear, I wasn't thinking about these things while everything was going on!  They were, however, constantly in my heart and my prayer life as we adjusted to being newlyweds.  And on the technical side, using a lubricant as often as you need can help ease discomfort you might feel, and so can taking your time with one another before actual intercourse to relax your body.

If you're nervous about the different intimacy you're about to share:
Just like it takes time in a relationship to build communication and honesty in your emotional and spiritual lives, so it is with your physical relationship.  Don't be frustrated if your sexual relationship takes a while, well into your first year of marriage, even, to feel more effortless and free.  If you are truthful and loving, I promise it will happen.

Meantime, it's not bad or wrong to feel like sex is a major step--it'd probably be weirder to view it as insignificant, no?  There's no rule saying you have to have sex the second you walk out of your reception and shut the doors.  Being so close as husband and wife will be completely new, and it's okay if you'd prefer to wait a night or two.  So long as other intimate acts aren't used as a means to an end, it can be really beautiful to just take your time getting to know each other, fully revealed.

If you're nervous about how to communicate in a new way and put your sexuality into words:
I dated someone who genuinely struggled with articulating his emotions and being honest about his feelings towards our relationship, towards how I and other people treated him, and towards his own strengths and weaknesses, to the point that he would often be vague and evasive, partially out of not really knowing how to verbalize his thoughts, only to let out a flood of unfiltered, uncontrolled anger every few weeks.  When Andrew and I first became friends, I remember being so struck by his humble sincerity; he thought (and still thinks) carefully before speaking, yet what he said communicated so clearly what he was really thinking that there seemed to be no division between what he was saying and who he actually was.  I could just see him so clearly, and I feel like I came to know him so truthfully.

I say this because many sex therapists, religious and otherwise, hold the belief that a couple's sex life is a sort of microcosm of the other parts of their life together--that is, if they're generous in their physical relationship, they're likely to express generosity in other, non-sexual ways, and if they withhold things from each other in the bedroom, it can indicate other behaviors in their relationship that point to selfishness or to bottling up conflict.  My husband's directness and honesty are two of my favorite qualities of his, and he's drawn out similar habits in me that had never been tapped by anyone else before.

They've served us well in every part of our relationship, but in our intimacy, as well.  I truly feel like the best remedy for nerves about communication is simply to be honest from the get-go about what you both like and dislike, what's uncomfortable, and what you are open to.  At first, I felt shy bringing up stuff like that because we'd never had an opportunity to talk about it before, but it has helped our marriage so much, not just in the sexual category, to be completely open and to talk about things with love and charity.  Bringing everything onto the table, in a prudent way, eliminates so many possible misunderstandings or feelings that stay hidden because they are never addressed.

If you're nervous about making the night special when you're abstaining for NFP reasons:
We prayerfully made the decision to postpone pregnancy in the beginning of our marriage because Andrew was in grad school and I was unemployed.  Our wedding fell right in the fertile middle of my cycle.  The thought you're having, that abstaining might take away from your wedding night, is totally understandable, and it definitely went through my head a few times.  Every couple is different, of course, but being on the other side of it now, I can honestly and so joyfully say that not being able to have sex right away wasn't disappointing at all and didn't take away one thing from our wedding night.

On that first night, there is so much that is brand new and special--being completely alone, seeing each other for the first time, and learning how to be intimate in a new way.  You're so free.  That said, in our case we weren't thinking at all about what we didn't get to have, but what we did.  I think, too, that for us, going from mostly just kissing before marriage all the way to sex on the night of our marriage would've been a huge leap, and I'm actually grateful for the opportunity to just enjoy one another slowly at first.  That's not to say it wouldn't have been nice to have the chance if we hadn't been abstaining; it's just that nothing felt missing, and things were wonderful as they were.

If you're anxious about being disappointed or the night not being special just for the reason that you'll be abstaining, I'd encourage you to pray about not seeing sex as a finish line.  Try, instead, to see every act of intimacy as something beautiful in and of itself, not just a step on the path to something else.  I know that for me, I was concerned about the morality of certain acts if they weren't going to result in going the whole nine.  A faithful married friend advised me, at the time, to view each of these other things as an act of love that isn't striving for anything more beyond the present moment.  When they are approached with love for the other and a sense of purity, she reminded me, there is nothing wrong about them, and they aren't acting as some sort of false start or way of arousing the other person without fulfillment; they can be completely fulfilling and beautiful on their own when there's no grasping for more.

On your wedding day, you stand before God and man and vow that the good of another person is more valuable, more important to you than the good of yourself.  On your wedding night, acting with love when you've chosen to abstain is a heroic sacrifice and an immediate, tangible way of living out your vows: putting aside your wants for the good of the other and, in this case, for the good of your new marriage.

Alright.  Thoughts, friends?  Andrew and I once gave a talk to engaged couples that we high-fived over afterwards, only to read the surveys and find the general sentiment was "don't talk so much about sex." Oh the humbling; how I need it.  But if this post has helped you, I'd love to know, and my prayer is that it bear much fruit and living water in your marriage.  Feel free to toss in your two cents of advice, and if  you feel like chatting, email me anytime at stephanie.captivetheheart@gmail.com.  I love hearing from you!

Repost: Underneath Your Clothes

Please tell me I'm not the only blogger who obsessively checks page views and comments on the day a new post goes up.  Please.  In the past month since I began my attempt to bring this thing back from the dead, I've been staring down the search terms and traffic sources that led people to these pages, and was surprised--not in a bad way!--to see a significant number of search terms for "Catholic lingerie" and "Can Catholics wear lingerie?"  My opinion is here in this post from 2 years ago, and I'd love to reignite the discussion.  Thoughts?

Remember my honeymoon essentials post ?  It featured a pretty lace bra and underwear set, and as I collected images for the post, I came across plenty of other pieces worth sharing.  Behold, here, the products of my internet wanderings.

1 and 4, Rikshaw Designs.  2, 5, 12, & 13, Anthropologie.  3, J. Crew.  6, 7, & 9, Topshop.  8, 10, & 11, Aerie.

To be honest, I wasn't really interested in lingerie before I got married.  I'd heard of lingerie-specific parties for the bride that sounded impossibly awkward, and asked my bridesmaids to just politely let shower guests know that I wouldn't prefer to receive any. Mostly I just wanted to avoid being embarrassed, but I think I also had this idea in my head that I'd be buying into the culture, and its seeming insistence that women look and act like Victoria's Secret models, if I set foot anywhere near something lacy.

In the past few years, though, my attitude has actually changed.  I realized I was failing to separate the culture's idea of beauty in the bedroom from that same beauty as it really is and should be.  It wasn't what a woman wore that was the problem; it was the messages of objectification and naughtiness that I'd been encouraged to believe about it, and I realized that with purity there can be freedom from so many of those lies.  Plus, I discovered there are plenty of classy, pretty choices available, a far cry from the costumey nightmares some brides receive.  Back in December, I wrote about beauty and sensuality in a way I don't think I can reword better, so here it is again, a little summing up of my attitude towards the way a woman can (and in my opinion, should) present herself to her husband with love:

When I was younger, I remember being so surprised by the Song of Songs' overt sensuality, as well as by the idea that lines like "Your hair is like a flock of goats!" were considered turn-ons.  Now, though, having been graced with a deeper, much more integrated view of sexuality, I see nothing but purity in these lovers' passion.  As human persons, we are more special than we could ever fathom: no other being on earth is made in God's image and likeness, as a body and soul.  And as women, we're the crown of creation.  Our bodies express who we are and express the love between man and wife in such a visible way, so what I've come to realize is that sensuality, in the literal context of having to do with the senses, is such a beautiful thing.  Sensuality, eroticism, and sex itself...these goods have been so twisted by the world, but when they're untwisted and placed squarely back where they belong, in light of nuptial love, they're nothing but good, pure, and holy.

You totally wanted to read about my undies today, I'm sure.  The reason I brought this up is that I think there's a possibility, particularly in Catholic circles, to turn lingerie into a moral issue, probably because of the negative messages out there that had me confused for a while.  I'd humbly argue that it's not an issue of morality, but of preference, love, and femininity.  I think adorning your body can be a beautiful (though certainly not necessary, if it's not your thing) invitation to be gazed upon with love, not just in the physical sense, but in the sense of truly being seen.

What do you think?  I realize, like I said, there's some debate about this,  though perhaps largely as a result of misunderstanding, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Guest Posting for Arleen Spenceley

I'm over on Arleen Spenceley's blog today, humbly offering a little crash course in chastity apologetics. Here's a sneak peek; follow the link to read the rest:

Actually putting reasons for chastity into words, I found, can be a huge source of encouragement when it seems like there’s no one out there like you and you’re wondering whether to just give up on the whole thing.  As a speaker, I like to think I avoided the whole Mean Girls don’t-have-sex-or-you’ll-get-pregnant-and-die approach, and though I wasn’t perfect at it, I also like to think I came to a few conclusions about a better approach, one that appeals not just to religion or morals, but to the heart.

 Click here for more, and be sure to spend some time browsing the rest of Arleen's fabulous blog and to throw up some prayers for her as she finishes working on her first book!

A Case Against Abstinence

This post originally appeared on Ignitum Today.  It got lost in cyberspace when the site temporarily went down a few months ago, but it did spark a fair amount of debate--one woman accused me of implying that abstaining from sex isn't necessary outside of marriage if you've found your future spouse (definitely not my intention), and I was asked, "You call yourself a Catholic?"  I never intended to stir up controversy for its own sake, or to play the victim; I only hoped to clarify what, in my eyes, can be a gray area of words that are used synonymously when I think that there's actually a big difference.  But, I would be curious (and humbled, most likely) to hear your thoughts!  What do you think?  Is there a distinction between abstinence and chastity? How would you define them?

I don't really like abstinence.  Wait.  What?  I resist the kind of trips where you go to Target for two things and come out with ten.  I try not to eat meat on Fridays.  My husband and I teach NFP.

 In some cases, though, particularly the case of sexuality, abstinence seems to miss the point.  Abstinence says no.  It emphasizes what you're giving up.  Often, it feels like a rule.

But chastity?  Chastity, I'd argue, shouldn't be interchangeable with abstinence; in fact, it can be the opposite of abstinence in radical ways.  Arleen Spenceley says, it's "a decision to die to self and to selflessly love (or to die trying)...Chastity never ends (that is, a person can be chaste simultaneously as he or she is abstinent, married or celibate).”  

And it's not a rule.  Focusing on abstinence, I've noticed, can lead to resentment or a sort of white-knuckle attitude where one feels like he or she just needs to hold on until marriage, when all of the impulses that have been held back can finally be unleashed.  This kind of thinking can raise the stakes, and perhaps overemphasize pleasure, to the point where one mistake leads to despair, self-loathing, or a feeling of being permanently broken.  But chastity, I think, acknowledges that we're already broken in our humanness, offering instead the hope that it's never to late to start over, and that the right kind of love can heal and restore us, giving us a glimpse, even, of the divine.  Chastity sees rules, then, not as a burden, but as a path to true freedom, with the goal being a body, soul, and mind so integrated that the rules aren't necessary anymore.   St. Paul knows it; he writes, "For the flesh has desires against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; these are opposed to each other, so that you may not do what you want.  But if you are guided by the Spirit, you are not under the law" (Galatians 5:17-18).


It says yes.  Chastity says yes to authentic love, yes to your future or current spouse, yes to purity in your thoughts, words, and actions.  It's not about what you can't do, but what you can: How can you express love to another person in the fullest, most respectful, and unselfish way?  The answer depends on your state in life, but no matter what, chastity encourages sacrifice, creativity (which could mean anything from a Say Anything-style serenade to a single person to the actual creation of a new life to a husband and wife), and reverence for another, simply because he or she is.  

So, do I think abstinence is all bad?  Of course not.  Self-denial can foster deep holiness, but I think it's only in light of chastity that self-denial takes on a deeper meaning.  It means freedom and faithfulness; it withholds nothing and bears great fruit in every vocation.  It means an invitation to love.  I can definitely get on board with that.

Lectio: Holy Sex

{recommended reading}

photo source

One of the most convenient things about being engaged, I pretty quickly found out, was having a few other friends who were engaged whom I could bounce around ideas and share my discoveries with.  I'll be forever thankful to my friend Kristin for introducing me to Dr. Gregory Popcak, a Catholic sex and marriage therapist whose books specialize in building an intimate, lasting marriage.  His book Holy Sex, she told me, was a great resource for not just learning the theology of marriage and the basic moral guidelines surrounding Natural Family Planning, but a way to actually apply them in real life.

Kristin was right.  Reading this book was like having someone explain to me, in an honest, unafraid way, what all of the beautiful teachings on marriage that I loved so much and had read so much about really looked like in the day to day.  Popcak spends the first part of this book breaking down what Holy Sex is, in his view, and in light of the Theology of the Body, and how it opens up a couple to receive as many graces from their sacrament as possible.  He also makes the super interesting point that sex isn't a single, separate part of a husband and wife's relationship, but a microcosm of their relationship as a whole.  For instance, if they have difficulty communicating in the bedroom, he points out, it's likely that the problem isn't the couple's sexual relationship, but a deeper communication issue within their marriage.

The second part of this book gets real about living out NFP and expressing sexual love in the fullest, purest way, in a voice that's sensitive without sparing technical details.  I've heard criticisms of Popcak here and there, saying that he's too frank and not reverent enough, but I'd actually argue that this kind of honest talk, by someone faithful and well-formed, is just what the doctor ordered.  We're all aware of how saturated the culture is in sexuality, and in my opinion, the frankness of the culture should be met in an appropriate, corresponding way, not a way that tiptoes.  The Church has such beauty and richness in its teaching on sexuality, one that certainly isn't prudish and doesn't tiptoe, and I think wisdom like Popcak's is a needed response to what the world has to offer.  Additionally, it's not uncommon for engaged Catholic couples to be unfamiliar with some of these more delicate matters, and the way I figure, if there's a more noble and more holistic view, like this one, that offers insight into these things, then it's one less thing these couples need to turn to things like Cosmo for.

I have to admit, there were times where I rolled my eyes at this book, thinking that Popcak's corny jokes and acronyms are like listening to your out of touch uncle, but on the whole, I can't recommend it enough.  One of its biggest strengths, aside from its honesty and the reverence with which the Church's teaching is presented, I think, is the fact that it can bring peace to scrupulous hearts (I wrote more about scrupulosity in sexual matters here) through Q+A chapters and discussions of specific acts, allowing newlyweds to enter into marriage with complete joy and peace, not with fear.  St. Augustine said, "peace is a tranquility that comes from right order."  Amen.

Have any of you read this?  Tell me your take!

Happy Weekend + Links Lately Loved

Is it just me, or have things taken a turn for the all about me lately?  Don't get me wrong; it brings me so much joy to share my life, and especially news about our sweet baby, with you, but let's turn back to weddings, at least for today, shall we?  Here, a few planning and spiritual resources worth sharing:

Nine gorgeous, free calligraphy fonts for designing your stationary

"I'm not entirely sure that what people want, at the deepest level, is sex.  I think what our sex-crazed culture really wants is what sex promises: the feeling of being desired."  A beautiful reflection on desire and what it's really meant for.

A sweetly vulnerable, new-to-me love song. 

Inspired by whimsically festive fringe balloons like this one for reception photos.  DIY here.

Some of the most authentic wedding advice I've ever heard, from a recent bride to the newly engaged.  My fave?  "Ignore everything I say--" it's your day, not hers, we're talking about here, and Victoria gets that.

Chime in!  Any fantastic resources or pretty things you've stumbled on lately?  Share away.