Ian’s Story: “Hop on Pop…Please!”

If parenthood has taught me one thing it’s that, irrespective of my public persona as a relationship expert, I am far from being an expert in my own relationship. Like many a new father, life after baby #1 left me confused and conflicted, not to mention sleepless, sexless, hard-up and horny. And just when I thought life couldn’t get any hornier, along came baby #2 to take my horniness to new dimensions of dementia. There was a point when everything made me think of sex. One time my wife, Lisa, was reading the Dr. Seuss classic Hop on Pop to our toddler, Owen, and I found myself thinking, “Hey baby, why don’t you come over here and hop on this pop?”

Let me tell you: when even Dr. Seuss makes you think of sex, that’s when things have to change.

And this book is indeed about change: the changes that parenthood wreaks on your sex life, and how to adapt and master those changes without letting them masturbate, I mean master you. As you can see, I may be a sex therapist, but I’m first and foremost a guy and I’ve grappled, and continue to grapple, with these issues: interminable nights with all four of us squeezed into the bed; feeling sex-starved and pissed off; tuning out, turning off, and becoming prey to all the pitfalls that go along with that vulnerable state. As far as I’m concerned, there are no quick fixes, no 30-day plans for change, no clinical psychobabble —all I can promise is honesty, knowledge, experience, not to mention a guy’s perspective, as well as some tools and tricks to help you through the long day’s journey into night.

I’m ashamed to say it, but the truth is that on more than one night (way more than one night, actually) I’ve been that angry guy in the scene described earlier. The changes parenthood wrought on my sex life left me feeling rejected, dejected, angry, and spiteful. But instead of rising to the occasion and stepping up to the plate as a husband and father, I acted like an asshole, which is all the more ironic (and assholey) since if anyone should know better it’s me!
Heidi and I have joked that we should have called this book What to Expect When He’s Expecting Sex, except that would have left us open to criticism of being one-sided, as well to a lawsuit. But it wasn’t that what I wanted from my wife —sex—was wrong. In fact, clinical experience has shown me that in “expecting sex” the new father is actually performing a vital relationship function, which is to bring his partner back into the relationship and restore the primacy of their couple-hood: a crucial necessity if they’re to flourish and succeed as a family.

What I wanted wasn’t wrong, but how I was going about it was beyond the pale. I guess it’s not always easy, especially when you’re in the thick of it.

In her book Confessions of a Naughty Mommy, Heidi writes, “No one warned me that having a baby was like the excitement of falling in love all over again, except with someone much younger and better smelling than my husband. No one told me that for all intents and purposes, having a baby was dangerously similar to having an affair.”

In retrospect, I can see that I was acting like a spurned lover and kicking up a shit-storm along the way. I was not only competing at the same volume as the “other man” in my wife’s life (in this case an infant), but could one-up him with meanness and mind-fucks. In losing my wife to this little creature, I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I wasn’t just “not getting it on,” I was angry as hell, too!
So what was I really expecting in expecting sex? Not just blowjobs and orgasms (although those are always nice), but the intimacy and sense of connection that is part and parcel of a healthy sex life.

Not too long ago I was on a plane with my kids, so I thought I better take some time to really listen to those pre-flight instructions about safety exits and flotation cushions that I normally ignore. And I was profoundly struck by a simple instruction: “In the event an oxygen masks drop down, put it on yourself first, then your children.” They instruct you to do this because you have to take care of yourself in order to take care of your kids. Well, in our marriages we’re constantly putting our children first, to the point where we allow our relationships to suffocate and ultimately impair our ability to parent well. Everyone ends up suffering for lack of air. This book is about getting the oxygen mask on and taking a deep breath. As an individual. As a couple. As a family.