I really DON’T want SEX any more
And nor, if they’re being honest, do most women with young children says this mother of four. So what does her other half make of it?
THE clock ticks past 10pm and as I stretch out on the sofa next to my partner Sam, I wonder whether I should stay and watch more drivel on television or head to bed. Deciding on the latter, I lean over for a goodnight kiss, but Sam wraps me in his strong arms and asks me to stay.
His hands begin to wander and his kisses become more searching. I playfully tell him I only wanted a kiss goodnight, but he continues. Over the years, I’ve learned that Sam, like most men, only understands something if it’s black and white, so I get up quickly and say goodnight.
His expression is doleful and I’m in no doubt he’s feeling rebuffed. After all, it’s been three or more months since there was anything more than hurried kisses between us.
But after a day looking after our four-year-old twins, Pepper and Cherry, three-year-old Lola and nine-month-old Jasper, I can honestly say nothing is less appealing than being pawed by my other half.
As a stay-at-home mother, I’ve already spent the day being sat on, climbed on and kissed. And while I am thankful for each and every one of those overzealous hugs and sloppy smackers, by the time Sam returns from his job as an engineer at 5.30pm, I have given all the physical affection I can. I simply crave my own space.
There’s no let up at night either: I know I’ll be up several times feeding the baby, soothing my toddler after nightmares and changing wet bed sheets. My kids can’t get enough of me, which is great, but it means there’s nothing left for anyone else. Including my long-suffering partner.
Indeed, even Sam’s touch — which I used to long for when we first got together six years ago — can make my skin crawl.
So there, I’ve said it. I’ve broken the taboo for all of the exhausted mothers out there. Because while even close friends might not admit as much, many women with young children simply don’t want to make love to their husbands any more.
Far from being desperate to slip between the sheets with their partners, they can’t think of anything worse.
It’s clearly a huge issue, as I discovered after touching on the subject on a parenting blog post I wrote two weeks ago. Within hours, I was deluged with responses from worn-out mothers who said they, too, could not bear to sleep with their husbands.
One lady contacted me to say it’s been five years since her child was born and still her libido hasn’t returned. Thankfully, her husband understood and respected this.
The majority of women, however, told me their partners find it hard to empathise.
There were those, not unlike me, who struggled to feel so much as a flicker of interest in sex. And others who would like to be intimate but felt too tired all the time. One mother admitted she felt angry with her husband if he even tried to be close to her.
And though they were tapping out their feelings to me in lengthy emails, I bet they’re not half as open with the men in question.
It’s like Sam and me: we tend not to talk about sex — or the lack of it. I avoid the subject, and I don’t think Sam wants to start a discussion in case I get upset.
We both hate confrontation and would prefer to brush things under the carpet. When he does try to initiate sex and I refuse, I never elaborate on why and he doesn’t push.
SOMETIMES he feels I am playing hard to get and will try to get me to return his advances. But it frustrates me because when I say I am not in the mood, I’m not asking for his help — I’m saying I have absolutely no interest. I don’t miss lovemaking at all, and I don’t feel I’m missing out now.
Even though we’re only 26, it’s a long way from the early days of our relationship, when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
We met through mutual friends, and I was instantly smitten. He was completely different to the sort of man I usually went for, being over-confident and funny, plus a gym fanatic, with well-honed muscles.
We quickly became inseparable; every spare minute was spent together. We met in December and by the following September we were living together and I was pregnant. This is when the physical side of our relationship first began to suffer.
We soon learnt we were expecting twins, I was very ill and suffered from extreme sickness that lasted the entire pregnancy.
Coupled with the fact my bump was enormous, I definitely wasn’t feeling inclined to jump into bed with him.
Sam was so understanding and never once complained about it or made me feel bad. The babies were born natu- rally at 35 weeks and thankfully slept well from a very early age.
The fact they were bottle-fed and were extremely easy-going meant Sam and I were able to share their care between us.
I was surprised by how smoothly things went, as I was expecting to be exhausted but wasn’t. As a result, it wasn’t long before we were able to rekindle our sex life.
But five months later, I got pregnant with our daughter Lola: she was born 14 months after the twins. This was when intimacy really suffered.
LOLA was breastfed for two years but I had a never-ending run of infections and she struggled to l atch on well, which caused a lot of pain — as did the fact that she didn’t sleep more than two hours at night until she was one.
I was so tired and suffered awful mood swings. I would regularly ring Sam at work in tears and ask him to come home as I was too tired to function. I understand now that this is something many mothers experience.
All of this added up to a completely non-existent love life.
We barely exchanged a word about anything other than the children. While I still loved Sam and knew he loved me, we were both just glad to get from morning to night without any major bust-ups.
It wasn’t helped by the fact that I was diagnosed with postnatal depression when Lola was six months old.
This explained the mood swings and I was given anti- depressants. But though these made my behaviour less erratic, I actually felt devoid of any emotion. I became robot-like, feeling neither happy nor sad.
I was very cold towards Sam and probably the children too.
Once Lola passed her first birthday, things improved with regards to her sleeping. I came off the medication and began to feel more like my old self.
Over the next two years things gradually improved. I loved the level of closeness the return of sex brought to our relationship.
But August 2014 brought a huge shock. We had come to the decision we were going to have no more children. Yet, due to negligence on my part, I found out I was pregnant again.
My main concern was how I would cope with another baby. I didn’t even think about the impact on our sex life.
It took a few months of getting used to, but soon we were swept up in the excitement of a new baby.
During the pregnancy, as I got bigger, sex took a back seat once again. Maybe it’s just me, but once there is a hint of a bump to be seen I feel very awkward making love.
And that’s pretty much where it has stayed since.
Jasper is nine months old now and is breastfed. He doesn’t sleep well, so he’s in with me and, in the absence of a spare room, Sam is relegated to the sofa.
For the most part, Sam is very accepting. But as a man, it must be truly hard for him to understand what I’m going t hrough both physically and emotionally.
We’re parents to the same children, yet our experiences couldn’t be more
different. He leaves as soon as they get up in the mornings and doesn’t see them until they are fed and ready for bed in the evening. Meanwhile, I do everything in between. As a result, we're not really on the same page emotionally. Nor are we both as trim and youthful as we were when we first got together. While I still think Sam is handsome, he does look different to the devoted gymgoer I fell in love with. Do I feel guilty about our dire love life? Or worry that Sam might be unfaithful to me as a result? After all, there is the age-old idea that ‘if he’s not getting it at home, he will find it somewhere else’.
My honest — and some may say sur-pri sing — answer is ‘no’. If a man would jeopardise a l oving and stable relationship with the mother of his children just because he hasn’t had sex for a few months, then he simply isn’t worth having. I know I can trust Sam, and while he may be confused and hurt by my constant rejection, he’d never cheat on me. I have heard close friends say things like: ‘I feel so bad for John — we hardly ever have sex.’ Well, I don’t feel bad for my partner and neither should they. You might be married but you did not sign over the rights to your body.
You did not enter into a contract whereby you are obliged to put aside your feelings to protect his.
You don’t owe it to your husband or partner to have sex when you don’t want to.
I understand that sometimes he might try to bargain and cajole and convince you. I’ve experienced this myself.
BUT no means no. Even in marriage, it is not an opening for a discussion. It’ s the end of the conversation. I know that to some couples the sexual side of their relationship is extremely important — it was for us once, too.
I know from experience, though, those hormone-fuelled early days don’t last for ever.
But that closeness can be regained in other ways. Sam and I are still very tactile with each other. We say ‘I love you’ multiple times a day, enjoy each other’s company and laugh as much as we ever did. We hold hands and hug, but for me that’s all I can manage right now. Hopefully, that’s enough for him. SAM SAYS: There are times when I miss the intimacy that comes with sex. When I first met Nat, I thought she was beautiful and, of course, I enjoyed our active love life.
But our relationship developed quickly — which was great — and we had twins when we were in our mid20s. That was the first time in our relationship that there had been a lack of sex. But I hadn’t expected anything different.
It was after Lola was born that things got worse. It was exhausting simply getting through the day. Sex was off the menu, and I’d be lying if I said that sense of being close to Nat in that way wasn’t an issue. But I was more concerned about our children and Nat’s well-being. Seeing the woman I loved in such a state of despair was worrying to say the least.
Eventually, however, life returned to ‘normal’. When Nat got pregnant with Jasper it was a real shock, but again I was excited. I love having children — it’s like having four best friends in the house and I’d have more if we could. But once again, sex has taken a back seat.
I also wonder if our sex life has dwindled in part because I’ve let myself go, and ditched the healthy diet and rigorous workout regime I devoted my time to before we had children. But I’m not ashamed of putting my family before my physical appearance — I always put the children first and myself last. Some men, i f rebuffed by their girlfriend or wife, might go looking elsewhere for sexual fulfilment. But I can honestly say I wouldn’t even entertain the thought of being unfaithful to the mother of my four wonderful children. Today, Nat and I are simply getting on with life.
I am not one of those who dwell on the negatives, and I know our relationship will survive. I know things won’t be like this for ever. The baby is still so young and so dependent on Nat, as Lola was before. We got through that and we will get through this, too.
We have such a strong relationship and sex is only a small part of it.