It’s a wonder I ever had any kids. Actually, scratch that. It’s a wonder I ever had more than one child. In the beginning we were at it like the proverbial rabbits so it’s no wonder that I got caught after missing one pill. However, as the night feeds, daytime tiredness and general “If this is what happens when you fuck my brains out then I'll give it a break, thanks” took over, the actual copulation dwindled down to the times when both of us were awake at the same time and there was nothing on the telly.
When we found ourselves in a routine and the baby had got her days and nights sorted out we decided to try for another child. We had already agreed that we didn't want too much of an age gap between siblings. After getting pregnant so quickly and unexpectedly the first time, I put my body on red alert and braced myself... for nothing! Six months down the line I still wasn't with child, even after making so much of an effort.
I took a quick trip to the doctors and demanded that he get me pregnant! When he finally worked out that I didn’t actually want him to shag me on his desk, he looked at me pityingly and explained that we just had to let nature take its course. I think he actually patted my hand at one point too.
I went home and forgot about it all for a few months. However, in the February I felt a bit odd (yes, more than usual) so took another trip to the doctors surgery and he was rather pleased to announce this time that I had got pregnant without his help!
The babies grew up and we settled into family life. We got past the night-feeding stage and the interrupted sleep during toilet training, sleep walking and bad dreams. Another routine was in place and we started to enjoy sex for fun again. We did get caught out a few times though:
Kev: Cor, get them knickers off, love...
voice wafts in from Bedroom #2Child 1: Why does Daddy want you to take your knickers off, Mummy? Your bottom will get cold.
we are in the throes of passion and a small child wanders stealth-like into our roomChild 2: Daddy, why are you making Mummy shout like that? Does she do any other noises?
Talk about passion killers! We had always discussed having a third child but, as you can see, we never really got a chance. Our offspring we just as mental as we were and there was never a moments peace. We must have fitted a bit of how’s yer father in at some point as that third child materialised and I’m damn sure that I wasn’t God’s second choice for the new Millennium.
And here is where the story of me becoming a born-again virgin begins. If I’d have thought that the occasional interruption from a half-sleeping toddler was going to put us off our (vinegar) stroke then I had no idea what was in store. This child slept for two-hour stints then stayed awake for record-breaking stretches of eight hours or so. Daytime naps were conducted in the pram on the way home from the school run, so no real chance of a snatched quickie anywhere. At one point we even considered getting a babysitter and reliving our early days of awkward front-seat-fumbling, in the car, down a country lane. We spent nights on a rota system, taking it in turns to stay awake with devil child; Disney films on a loop, matchsticks in eyes and copious amounts of comfort food.
Over time (a long period of time), a proper sleep pattern fell into place we found ourselves with adult bedroom time again. But now we are both old, overweight, creaking in places we never knew existed (its not the bed springs, we checked) and just enjoy a chat and brew in bed at the end of the day. There's all the faffing around with contact lenses, trips to the loo, bad backs, wondering whether to at least try and look alluring or just get on with a good old rodgering that it's all so much hassle.
It's still good when we do get round to it though. Neither of us have lost the knack – it just takes us a bit longer to get there.
A version of this story first appeared as a guest post over at Me, The Man and The Baby.