This is the second post in a three part series describing how my husband and I maintain desire in our relationship, interlaced with the wisdom of Esther Perel’s points from Mating in Captivity. Perel is the expert psychotherapist; I’m just providing my personal anecdotes. The first post centers around discovering your sexual self, your “Eros,” while this post details how we strive to keep the flames of desire burning amid the chaos of parenting young children.
Jack and I started dating when we were both only seventeen and got married at twenty-two. Our early years together were marked with young, horny explorations that gave way to full-fledged cravings and raunchiness. Then, at age twenty-five, we had our first baby. End of Act 1.
Act 2: Our sex lives start to resemble the engine of a beloved old truck, with an engine that now sputters and turns over several times before it finally gets started. Once it gets going, it’ll take you for quite a few miles; it seems to be doing well enough until, suddenly, it hits another bump in the road and stalls out again. And then the cycle repeats, again and again, and you start to wonder if that old truck is really worth the hassle.
Dealing with diminishing desire is Perel’s expertise, and if I were to tell her my story I’m sure that she’d nod sympathetically and tell me that I’m not alone. In Mating in Captivity, she says, “Many of the couples I see trace the demise of the erotic life back to the arrival of the first child” (page 125). While in many ways our children bring us great happiness, they also change the dynamic from couple to family. It takes time to adjust to our new normal, and find our erotic self — our “Eros” — once again.
Jack and I feel lucky that we made it out of the muddle of early parenting; we were able to restore our “old truck” and now it’s even better than new (though it does, of course, require constant maintenance). Here are some parenting pointers from us and Perel to consider if you’re looking to get your groove back post-baby production.
Mothers often lose their Eros to their babies, but there’s hope for its return.
“We talk about how her sexual identity changed as a result of pregnancy, childbirth, nursing, and motherhood. Putting her personal experiences in a broader cultural context, we discuss how the politics of motherhood, the myth of chastity, and the medicalization of pregnancy and childbirth all conspire to deprive motherhood of its sexual elements.”
Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity, page 138
Ah, my children. The ironic little cockblocks — created from my sexuality, yet now keeping my sexuality at bay. Four kids, for a total of ten years of pregnancy and breastfeeding, culminating in bedtime battles, sibling rivalry, power struggles, and dealing with their depression, anxiety, and learning disorders, all supplied by our genetics. There’s nothing quite like parenting to suck the Eros out of you. Or at least, me.
When the kids were young, they were physically exhausting. It felt like I was constantly holding children, or feeding them, or changing them, or grooming them. My mind was filled with conflicting advice on how to get babies to sleep, how to deal with reflux, how much screentime to allow, how not to raise little assholes. I felt smothered in the clutter of children’s toys and baby equipment; my daydreams contained the content of mindless Pinterest scrolls of home improvement projects. Even with Jack’s unwavering support and helping hands, I felt overwhelmed and exhausted.
By the end of the day, when we were finally able to enjoy a couple hours alone before someone would surely wake up and crawl into our bed with us, I didn’t want Jack. I didn’t want anyone — I often was maxed out on touch and wanted to be alone physically as well as mentally. Jack still gets emotional talking about that time in our life, when I repeatedly rejected his advances, leaving him feeling undesirable. Even worse, I chastised him for wanting sex “too much,” suggesting that he was the problem. If he was lucky, I’d offer to lube up and roll over, but my agitated facial expressions and “hurry up” harrumphs made him feel guilty, like he was the worst husband in the world. All he wanted was me, but I had given my body and mind over to the kids.
For the first time in our relationship Jack and I began to see ourselves more as partners and less as “one.” Isn’t it funny how creating new life together can separate a couple? Perel insists that in order for eroticism in a relationship to be possible, that separation between spouses is essential. However, Perel notes that many mothers tend to transfer their “Eros,” as she refers to our erotic selves, to our children during the early days of parenting. Not in a sexual way, but in a physical way like I described in the preceding paragraph. And for eroticism to flourish, you can only be “one” with yourself, so the problem remains. No self means no Eros, which means no desire. MILF fail.
The solution is thus the same as too much togetherness between couples — for Mom to find her Eros again, she has to “separate” from her kids. She has to embrace who she is again; she has to find herself all over again, and this is just what I finally did. Though, as Perel also promises in Mating in Captivity, it did indeed take time. When we finally bid adieu to sleepless nights, breastfeeding, and diapers, the physical connection between me and my babies was naturally severed. As my children became more independent, they stole less of my Eros. I became me again. Or rather, I became the new and improved me, the me that I feel I was always on the path to becoming.
My childbearing body has gone through quite the metamorphosis, and now that it has settled into its new normal, I couldn’t be more pleased with myself. My breastfeeding D-cups had been uncomfortable not only during my workouts but also when I wore low-cut tops, feeling oddly voluptuous on my five foot frame. When I weaned the last baby, my breasts became smaller than ever, leaving me with an easy-to-dress, waify top half. I gave up sugar, and now I enjoy stroking my flat stomach in a way similar to how I once rubbed my pregnant belly, but this time it’s just me — I feel my literal and figurative strength in my core. With most of my body hair now lasered away, my touch is smooth and soft against my skin. I have time to do my nails but I go light on the makeup. My never-dyed brunette head of hair has sprouted its first few grays, but it’s softer than ever.
I have embraced my body in ways that I never did before; I have finally found a way to honor it and love it for its many acts of service. Its purpose has shifted, from growing life and feeding babies, to a vehicle for navigating the Earth. My body is once again my own, and this time it’s a tool that I’m using for pleasure.
And my mind? That most valuable tool for turning a backrub into an orgasmic evening? Getting out of the baby phase and off of Pinterest has provided me with the time to read, listen, learn, write, and practice moving meditation. I think deeply once again. I get inspired when I discuss philosophy and psychology with Jack. I love to dwell on thoughts that arouse me. After all, what good is a healthy body if your mind is not well enough to appreciate it?
As your children grow, give them space to develop and become their own self, in turn allowing you to reclaim your Eros.
“Indeed, in our culture the survival of the family depends on the happiness of the couple. But cultivating the ideal relationship requires care and attention, and this competes directly with the ‘full-contact’ parenting many of us embrace.”
Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity, page 134.
I love a good self-help book, so naturally I’ve been devouring parenting books from before the time our children were even born. While Perel’s Mating in Captivity is centered around sex, there are also some parenting pointers in there, too, for those interested in how to parent kids without draining the desire out of Mom and Dad.
Perel insists that the mode of separating and self extends to all members of the family. Kids need to develop their own separate sense of self, too, and this will benefit the parents’ sex life through the formation of boundaries, responsibility, and eventual independence. Our American way of parenting currently borders on helicopter parenting; even as we shun that style we find ourselves falling over again and again into society’s expectations for raising the best possible human beings — straight As, a gamut of afterschool activities, constant crafts. It’s overwhelming and exhausting, and it takes a toll on eroticism.
Perel, from her point of view as a Belgian native, suggests that perhaps we American parents spend a bit too much time, energy, and money caring for our kids. Loosen up, I hear her saying. Let your kids relax a little. Don’t stress so much about how much time they don’t read and how much time they spend on video games instead. Don’t schedule every weekday afternoon to entertain them. Let them make a mess more often in the pursuit of play. Send them outside to explore.
We’ve started to embrace the Love and Logic parenting method, and I think Perel would agree with our choice — if we give our kids space and the freedom to make their own mistakes, we also give them responsibility and problem-solving skills. Plus, in learning how to treat our children like the individuals they are, in an empathetic and loving way, we also learn how to treat our partner, too. It becomes a family dynamic of love and respect, but not control.
Jack and I joke that we need to treat our kids like they’re annoying, shitty roommates. No, they don’t put their dishes in the dishwasher consistently. They’re always forgetting to do their share of the chores. They’re always wanting rides to places. But they’re also really funny, sweet, and caring. And someday they’re going to move out (hopefully) and we’ll miss them. In the meantime, I’m giving them some space to grow into the people they’re going to become, and in doing so, I make space for myself.
Don’t take yourself too seriously. Sex is play.
“Sex often remains the last arena of play we can permit ourselves, a bridge to our childhood. Long after the mind has been filled with injunction to be serious, the body remains a free zone, unencumbered by reason and judgement.”
Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity, page 218
Have you ever watched your kids play? I love eavesdropping on their games, listening to the stories and situations that they make up and act out with unabashed enthusiasm. My kids have amazing imaginations. Their play has some structure, but they’re not afraid to make up the rules as they go along. When they don’t like something, they say so. The play ends when they get bored, or can’t get along with their playmates, or when they’re tired or hungry. They play because it’s fun.
We can learn a lot from our kids, and this extends even to our sexuality. Think of your sexual self as a child. We can imagine and explore during sex, like a toddler exploring a playground. Marriage and intimacy, in turn, fill our need for security. When playtime is over, we become the toddlers running back to Mom, eager for reassurance that our safety net remains intact. These opposing forces allow us freedom and security, alternating in turn, and sometimes, in tandem.
Jack and I constantly work hard at being open, honest, and extremely comfortable not just in our own skins, but with each other as well. We learned quickly to be skilled communicators about sex, perhaps because the more we open up to each other, the easier and more fun our playtime becomes. We don’t fret about judgement from the other; if one of us wants to try a different position or wants a finger in their ass, then we tell the other. Our open communication, paired with respect for the other, helps us to get what we want.
Sometimes we set parameters before we have sex: “How do you want to do it tonight? Want to be my submissive?” We have many toys. “Sure, could we use the spreader bar?” Other times we play dress up; I might wear my little French maid outfit, a wig, or (Jack’s favorite) beachwear accessories. We might set up a role play situation; “Pretend you’re getting a massage and I start taking advantage of you…but you like it.”
Being in the zone is important for us. A good game can keep our kids busy for hours. They experience flow while playing; they become lost in the game and they continue to act it out to see where it takes them. Sex is the same for Jack and me. We set the mood. We put on music, light candles, get into bed, and begin to touch. We stroke each other, feel what reaction we cause in the other’s body. We stop overthinking and start doing, feeling. We let our bodies take over and we become a part of the game. Euphoria. Pleasure. Fun.
With sex being our playtime, we crave it often. We need to destress from our work, our kids, and our responsibilities. We need some time each week that is uniquely and especially ours. Our sex sessions are something that we have to look forward to. They fuel us through the day, knowing that we’ll have our playtime before we go to bed, too.
Schedule sex — and give yourself something to look forward to!
“For many of us, premeditated sex is suspicious. It threatens our belief that sex is subject only to the machinations of magic and chemistry. The idea that sex must be spontaneous keeps us one step removed from having to will sex, to our own desire, and to express it with intent.”
Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity, page 213
How many movie scenes glorify spontaneous sex — you know, the urges overwhelm the characters and they can’t keep their hands off each other, ripping off each other’s clothes, panting for breath, him pinning her up against the wall, yadda yadda yadda. I liked that scene in The Notebook, too, but that’s not real life.
We have kids, pets, careers, a house, responsibilities. There’s a lot on our calendar that could keep us from having sex. But, just as we pencil in playdates for the kids, we pencil in playtime for us, too.
Perel strongly advises married couples to schedule sex. If you’re trying to increase the frequency of your sexual encounters or to increase the desire between you and your partner, don’t wait for the moment to suddenly strike. It won’t happen. There’s simply too much else going on, and if sex isn’t an item on your agenda, chances are that it’ll be pushed aside and overlooked.
Does sex on the agenda sound like the opposite of romance? Perel and I agree on this one — it’s actually more erotic to have those plans in place. On days that I know for sure that I’ll be having sex, I start thinking about it the moment I wake up (before I put on my makeup…I say a little prayer for you…sorrynotsorry). I remove stray hairs from my mons and legs. I thoughtfully choose my underwear, or choose to wear none at all. While commuting home, I choose something that I know will ignite a flame — maybe a swinger or sex podcast, other times music that makes me feel amazing.
I’m preparing for sex the way I once prepared for a date night with a new boyfriend. My mind gets in the game early, because I already know that sex is part of the day’s plans. There is that expectation, and being a perfectionist means that I want to be prepared.
I consider the vibe that I’m feeling as the day wears on. Am I feeling quick, hot, and heavy today? Am I feeling slow and tender? What music am I in the mood for? We typically save BDSM and role play for the weekends.
In truth, there are times when it all falls apart. One of the kids derails my mojo, or Jack and I start bickering over something, or we’re just too drained from careers and kids to go through with it. It happens — or, rather, it doesn’t — and that’s okay. We’re human. We’ll try again the next day.
In fact, to say that we schedule sex is probably an understatement. There are times when we put it on the schedule — like today, as I write this, we played hooky from work so that we could have a session in the late morning — but most of the time, it’s a part of our routine rather than a special to-do item.
On average, we expect to have sex with the each other about every other night, and if there are extenuating circumstances, they are communicated ahead of time so that there are no hurt feelings or blue balls. We view sex as an essential piece of our wellness routine, beneficial for both our individual mental states as well as our relationship health. Plus, it’s a helluva good workout to kick off a good night’s sleep.
If you don’t schedule sex with your partner, perhaps consider why not. Perel suggests that too many people who want sex to “just happen” perhaps feel some embarrassment around sex. If sex happens spontaneously, then you don’t have to view yourself as a sexual being. You know, you’re just a woman that was swept away by your man, not a naughty librarian daydreaming about the sexy night ahead. It provides distance, but if you want more sex and more desire, distancing yourself from your Eros is not the way to go. Welcome sex into your life and onto your calendar.
Enjoying sex makes me a better parent
“For many parents, the idea of a secret garden inspires everything from acute guilt and anxiety to the more benign gradations of embarrassment. We are afraid that our adult sexuality will somehow damage our kids, that it’s inappropriate or dangerous. But whom are we protecting?”
Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity, page 151
Perel acknowledges that family life needs order, structure, seriousness, and security — but these are also things that turn our sex drive way down. I agree — there is no surer way to dry me up than tending to my children’s needs, or worse, worrying about the myriad of ways in which I could royally screw them up.
It doesn’t help that I’m a perfectionist with high expectations. I’m overly Type-A in terms of household structure; my kitchen cabinets all have labels indicating what items belong where and a chore chart is on prominent, permanent display in our kitchen. None of this turns me on (okay, fine, organization does turn me on a little); instead it is a constant to-do list that only has the possibility of ending in approximately thirteen years, when my youngest will hopefully go away to college. It’s overwhelming not just for the kids, but for me, too.
Sex is the perfect reminder for me that a little bit of mess and chaos can be a whole lotta fun. In sex and its affiliates — flirting, hotwifing, Naughty Twitter, etc. — I find pleasure, which brings me some peace. It clears my head, allowing me to focus on the excitement of the moment rather than my looming to-do list. Orgasms destress. When Mom is clear-headed and low stress, everyone can relax. In short, when I make sex a focus of my life, I’m a better parent.
Take the other morning. My son was late for school yet again, which caused that awful domino effect — I was going to be late, too, and so were the rest of the kids and then my husband. They were leaving the house at peak anxiety levels, and I was sure that we’d have to cancel our weekend plans to punish the kids and come up with an entirely new parenting plan of attack. My work-from-home day was nearly ruined, until I remembered to text back a friend.
I recently discovered that my cute acquaintance and his also cute (and bi-like-me) wife are also a part of the lifestyle. We’d started a text chain the night before, but kids got in the way and nothing came of it. After I initiated the conversation that morning, we went back and forth getting to know each other a little better. There were some compliments, some dirty innuendos, some flat out admission of interest. It’s amazing that I got any work done that day, but with my spirits lifted, I powered through.
When my husband came home from work early, we discussed this new couple in detail. We only briefly discussed our kids, and decided that we were being too uptight and we simply needed some fun to bring us all joy and order once again. When the kids came home from school, I was on top of my game, kind and loving and logical. I was excited, filled with a spark of New Relationship Energy. My high spirits carried us through until bedtime, when I finally got Jack behind closed doors and projected all my energy into our lovemaking.
I did send a thank-you text to my new friend the next morning, for his help in lifting me out of my mood and giving my mind fodder for fornicating. Jack was very appreciative as well, and little did the kids know that Mom’s good mood all weekend was courtesy of the possibility of new fuck buddies.
Make the effort. Try.
“Eroticism in the home requires active engagement and willful intent. It is an ongoing resistance to the message that marriage is serious, more work than play; and that passion is for teenagers and the immature. We must unpack our ambivalence about pleasure, and challenge our pervasive discomfort with sexuality, particularly in the context of family.”
Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity, page 220
Perhaps the ultimate secret to a sex life like ours is that Jack and I both try. We try to look good for ourselves as well as one another. We try to make the time to have sex. We try to take sex vacations. We try to learn more about our sexuality by reading, listening, researching, and discussing. We try alternative relationship structures that go against the norm but feel right to us. We try to inspire one another to be our best selves, in the bedroom and out in the world, too.
All good things in life are worth the effort, and so little comes to us for free. I was born into a society where I was free to choose my spouse. I found Jack, and that in itself is a blessing. If I take this for granted, I’m going to miss out, and trust me, I’m not going to blow this.
I’m not going to wish away my kids’ childhoods, even though I long for a week away now and then. I want to learn from them, respect them, and set them free when the time is right. I want to be a person worth guiding them. I want to feel that I did my best with them. I don’t want to eschew them for stealing my Eros; I want them to develop their own Eros and embrace life sooner than I did, with more wisdom and joy. I wish them a life filled with love and pleasure.
I’m going to try to make every day a bit better than the one before. It starts with me, but who knows what’s going to happen in Act 3. All signs point to sexual fantasies taking center stage...