Something I’ve said way too many times to my husband. Because the truth is, I don’t want to be touched. I’ve been poked and prodded all day long. My children have glued to my hip and I love giving them lovings, but sometimes that means that there is nothing left to give when the lights go out.
Most nights after the kids have fallen asleep, I lay there with only a foot between my husband and I. But honestly it feels like a hundred. We both lay there coasting through our life, co-existing. Complimentary hands working together. Being parents. Being partners. But the passion? Well some nights, it’s about as far out of reach as the days of peeing and showering alone are.
But this has always been the goal, right? To have two adorable little munchkins. Since the day that i met my husband, he worked damn hard toward giving life to all of my dreams - and now, I sometimes worry if my dreams are what may someday pull us apart. Maybe it’ll all fade after our daughter has left our bed and our son has stopped sneaking back into it. But then there will be practices to take them to, the dreaded puberty, preparing them for their futures in college, and finally an empty nest. And in between it all, I worry of how long it will take for all of those grimaces when touches me adds up before he just quits trying altogether.
I'm trapped. Between a world that loves to love and one that is just completely worn out and exhausted. Most of the time I'm in survival mode. Constantly giving out snacks, wiping butts, washing hands, cooking meals, and cleaning, SO much cleaning - and let’s not even try to talk about myself. Who often looks at herself in the mirror and wonder how anyone could explore such a sight when her own self doesn’t even want to.
Literally everything about me has changed since becoming a mother. Including intimacy. We don’t have time to spend exponential time together like we did when we were young, shoot - we’re lucky to have just a couple hours once a month together.
But maybe that’s more than enough. Maybe there’s something even sexier found in having a husband who spends your whole life with you. Who knows your every quirk, and the ones that your kids are slowly developing. Maybe there’s value in that he is the one that I turn to first to tell him when our children did something new, cool, or great. Because my pride in those beautiful little creatures is also his. We have that in common. No one could ever know or love those children the way that we do. Not even close. No one else made up 50% of their DNA, felt every kick, and watched them exit my body. We’ve shared history together. He knows every inch of me - every scar, laugh line, stretch mark, and widened hip. And yet still somehow he embraces it all. And maybe it’s time to let him.
So maybe I go back to the basics, but never the beginning (there‘s too much amazing history to erase). Maybe I let go of who I have in my head of who we were in our teenage years being wild and kid-free, and give myself permission to be tired and without touch less often. And finally accept that there is an awesome man who loves me and wants to show it. There were days when we never even imagined this kind of love and companionship, and now here it Is. Laying next to me only a foot away.
Are there any times you feel bad for not giving in? How do you combat those feelings?
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