New Motherhood (1st Place, First Things First! Writing Contest)

Bethany Hiitola

“Now, what I want is facts.  How long was it really, before you had sex after a baby?”  Jenna was the only person I trusted to give me an honest answer. Then again, with 5 kids maybe she wasn’t exactly the right person.

“Who has time for that anymore? Between soccer practice, band recitals, dance class…” She dismissed me with a wave of her hand and took a sip of wine.

Validation from the Mom of Many.  I felt vindicated. Now if only she would tell Kevin. He was asking for kinky nightwear and physical activity. I could feel myself tearing in the under-regions all over again with just the hint of romance.

“And by the way, that sentiment will hang with you for at least the next 3 years,” Jenna added with some knowing I could only imagine. “Maybe longer if the baby decides your tits are a better pacifier than… well, a pacifier.”  Jenna smiled just a hint before tilting her head back into the sun and shutting her eyes.

Chaffed, rock hard breasts that spew milk at the thought of a crying baby wasn’t bad enough?

“And don’t expect the kid to sleep through the night for a while…”

I might have choked on my own spit. Or swallowed the nausea that leaped up the back of my throat, because Jenna quickly whispered, “It’ll get better honey. Trust me.”

“Me?  Or my husband’s inconsolable need for sex?” Somewhere the tears were welling. Just not in my tear ducts. They were dry, scratchy, and worn out from hours of sleeplessness. I was pitiful.  The sex that brought us the fruit of our loins—the lovely baby—was quite literally taking the romp out of our marriage.  And, in this very second, I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

It felt like a never-ending nightmare.  How could I have gotten myself into this mess?  And where were all the magazine articles about this side of parenting?  It’s not all hugs, cuddles, and amazing moments of the miracle of life. It was wrought with cursory glances at 4 am while I awoke yet again to feed the baby and my other half got another few hours of uninterrupted shut-eye. What about the cursory details of blow out diapers and tips for cleaning up soured spit up off every bit of clothing you own?

Jenna’s throaty laugh erupted slowly from the corner, “Honey,” she shook her head, “The men always want the sex.”  With a shrug she put the wine next to her on the table and swung her legs in front of her, “It’s why I have so many rugrats to deal with.  But this,” she laced her fingers around her now crossed knees, “is where it gets interesting.”

I wasn’t following.

“Honey, it's not about romance anymore. It’s about having sex without waking the baby.  Who, from the looks of it,” she grinned, “is sleeping right there in the same room."