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Sex Isn't a Four-letter Word
Stepping Back into Intimacy After Children
By Kendeyl Johansen
My husband, Lars, sits up in bed, excitedly pointing to the CNN news graphic. "Jeez! The average married couple has sex three times per week. Boy, am I deprived."
I suppress a groan, hoping I won't have to make up for lost time. Before baby Max was born, I loved sex. But caring for a colicky 2-month-old, who wakes screaming and clutching his stomach three times per night, exhausts me. I can't remember how an uninterrupted night of sleep feels but I bet I'd enjoy it. When I finally get Max to sleep, I fall into bed exhausted, sex my last priority.
Lars has a reversed priority list. He finds me twice as sexy since I had Max, even though I wear striped PJs with footies. He flashes me a hopeful look and gives me the body-hug that signals he's in the mood.
All I want is sleep but we haven't made love for a while so I agree. Max's ear-piercing shriek jars us. Whew. It will take a half-hour to resettle colicky Max and by then Lars will be asleep. My pediatrician tells me colic usually resolves itself by 3 months. I look forward to craving something besides shuteye.
Nine months later, my sex life improves a little, but not much. When we make love I enjoy it but starting the process seems like too much effort. Max suffers from repeated ear infections and still doesn't sleep well and my wailing night-owl has morphed into an 11-month-old destruction machine. Nothing is safe. Max throws dishcloths, socks or Tupperware over his shoulder until drawers are empty. He sneaks into my library and empties bookshelves. I chase him all day, cleaning up trails of towels, books and unrolled toilet paper. My cat and dog flee from Tornado Max, terrified.
Lars has become a sex-starved maniac. It turns him on if I sneeze. He finds me a goddess in a ponytail and baggy sweats. He sighs when I rebuff his advances, and sighs again when I give in. "I feel like I'm always having to talk you into this. Do you think you'll initiate lovemaking ever again?"
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