Heidi’s Story: It’s the End of the World as We Know It...and I Feel Fine

Ten years ago, before kids and mortgages and All That, my husband JB and I were experts in the language of love. If sex is a form communication, well back then we were on the unlimited calling plan. We may not have always talked explicitly about the details, but we never had trouble communicating, we never had trouble connecting, physically or emotionally. And then...we had a baby. And while in some ways our daughter’s birth brought us closer together than ever, in other ways (like actually having sex or even talking about it) we grew apart.

Worse than trying to figure out the logistics of post baby sex was trying to figure out what had happened to my once level libido. Ian, true rockin’ animal that he is, confided to me that if his experience with sex after baby had a theme song it would be Guns n Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle.” That’s the truth. But in my “not getting it on” world after baby, I think my theme song would have been another ’80s hit—It’s the End of the World (And I Feel Fine). Because although I missed wanting sex, I didn’t actually miss having sex. I felt fine without it! And I had no idea how to explain that to my husband. How could I? I didn’t know what was happening myself. Before long, my husband and I created a whole new way of communicating about sex—one that used very few of those pesky, um, words—and instead used plenty of late night fights. Bye-bye language of love, bye-bye unlimited calling plan. Hello pre-paid calling cards with desperately low minutes.

Those early years after the birth of our daughter were tough; there were times I was afraid to accidentally brush against my husband’s foot at night because I thought it would give him the wrong message. There were times I saw his erect penis as a little drill sergeant: hup two three four/ I am just another chore. There were times I wanted nothing more than to be left alone with my beautiful baby and a clean house. But finally, after four years, another baby, and writing a book on the topic, I think I know a little more about what was really going on. I can now see the pitfalls and traps of the baby sex jungle. I know I get caught up into giving too much to others, I know I need regular exercise, I know I’ve got a funky thyroid. I know I tend to throw myself into motherhood as an excuse for not looking at my own life sometimes. I know I fall in love with babies, hard. My husband and I also now know how to explain our feelings about all this without attacking, blaming or denying.

People are always asking me what’s the number one thing they can do to (start wanting to) get it on again. I joke that they should write a book about it! But I’m only half joking, because it was through writing about it that JB and I starting talking about it: Really talking about sex and work and parenting and how hard it is to make it all function. As it turns out, talking about sex (or the lack of it) doesn’t take away the magic—it’s darn near the only thing that really makes it happen. Thanks to our (now endless) discussions, JB now also knows he’s my real number one, even when I am in the harpy-like throes of intimacy overload. He knows that eventually the baby who has displaced him will wean and sleep and one day even walk away from us. He also knows that, intimacy junkie that I am, I will turn once again to him to get it. I hope this book can do the same for you – I hope it can get you talking, and turning, once again to each other.