Making Out After Baby

Sun Herald

Sunday July 22, 2007

Sacha Molitorisz Source: This is an edited extract from From Here To Paternity by Sacha Molitorisz (Macmillan Australia, $29.95), out on Tuesday.

How does the arrival of a child affect the parents' libido? In his new book - and with some help from responses to his blog - Sacha Molitorisz discusses sex after childbirth, or lack of it.

So, let's talk about sex after childbirth. The topic warrants a book of its own. A slim one, if you believe the doomsayers who say the subject is a contradiction in terms.

And let's start with involution. According to Dr Victoria E. M. Bennett in The Welfare Of The Infant And Child, published in London in 1932, "Sexual intercourse should not be resumed until involution is complete." But what is involution?

After consulting the dictionary, I gather Dr Bennett is saying the uterus needs to contract before sexual intercourse should resume. But when is that? Is there a green light that illuminates on a woman's anatomy? A sign that flips from "no" to "go"?

A clarion call of trumpets? Notice that the book isn't titled The Welfare Of The Father.

One thing I know: whether or not Bennett's advice is sound, it's useless for a layperson. Another thing I know: pregnancy and childbirth, while fundamentally unchanged, are treated very differently now than in 1932. For starters, labour and birth are no longer the secret business of women, midwives and doctors. Fathers are regular fixtures in labour wards and birth centres. In the UK and the US, hospitals are introducing birthing spectator galleries to accommodate small crowds eager to watch their friends deliver.

Since 1932, things have changed to the point that in 2005, psychologist and author Keith Ablow wrote an article in The New York Times describing a new condition - delivery-room trauma: "Dozens of men have confided to me that witnessing the births of their children has made it difficult for them to be attracted to their wives, at least in the short term. They seem to have trouble seeing them as sexual beings after seeing them make babies... The trouble is the moment turns out to be intensely beautiful and potentially traumatic. It is miraculous to see a baby's head emerge, and it can also be shocking. It is riveting to see an umbilical cord connecting mother and baby, but it can also be disturbing."

In extreme cases, Ablow wrote, the condition comes close to post-traumatic stress disorder, with symptoms including "recurrent and intrusive recollections of the event and efforts to avoid recalling it". As one of his patients asked, "I mean, how are you supposed to go from seeing that to wanting to be with...?"

Sounds serious. Problem is, I'm deeply sceptical. The nine months of pregnancy, the pain of delivery, the wonder of birth - it all makes for a bonding experience of incomparable intensity.

I have never felt closer to Jo, my wife, than during the birth of our daughter, Edie. And after the birth I felt more attracted to Jo than ever.

I can't help thinking Ablow is a typical proponent of the victim mentality that's rampant in the US and Australia. If a man is struggling in the delivery room, he should just say so and leave, I think.

But I was in for a shock. After writing about delivery-room trauma on my blog, I received several responses suggesting I needed to be more open-minded. Even women acknowledged its existence.

"I wish someone had told me that after witnessing me go through childbirth, my husband may no longer see me as a sexual being," wrote "Lilitha".

"I still look much as I did before the baby, had an easy birth, but according to him I'm a mother now and don't turn him on any more. According to me, I'm still a sexual being with needs. I felt humiliated, disgusting and have suffered the worst lack of self-esteem in my life. My advice to other mums-to-be is to think carefully about whether you really want your husbands with you in the delivery room. I loved having my hubby with me during such a momentous occasion in our lives. But I hadn't considered the fallout. We are now separated. I'm not prepared to spend the rest of my life in a sexless marriage."

And body issues aren't the only impediment to a healthy sex life after a child is born. There's the lack of sleep. The intense busy-ness of looking after a newborn and the accompanying exhaustion. The adjustment to a new life. The fact that newborns and toddlers are expert at inopportune interruptions. Becoming a parent is a major change and, for many, sex is low on the list of priorities. And if complicating factors are thrown into the mix, such as postnatal depression or a child with a disability, a couple's libido can run screaming from the conjugal bed.

On my blog, the tales of woe are distressingly common. Take "Simon M", who wrote, "For me, the sex dried up immediately after my wife found out she was pregnant. So let's calculate ... eight months until baby is born, baby is now nearly two years old ... getting nigh on three years. That is not to say we have not had sex. We have, three times. The first was more than 13 months after getting pregnant.

I try to broach the subject in a gentle way but my wife says that I am pressuring her and she won't discuss it. I realise I have to be patient, but how patient?"

And "JB": "We have been sexually intimate about five times over the past six years since our child's birth. As a response to constant rebuttals and lack of interest, my sexual desire has waned significantly to the point that I've given up. There is a process of grieving and denial but ultimately acceptance that I most likely will never have a sexual relationship again. I feel now like we are almost a brother and sister looking after our common interest, our child."

For dads-to-be and new dads, these are disturbing words. The thought of going for years without sex is a terrifying prospect.

Worst of all the blog responses are the tales from men for whom the sexual drought is just one indication of a relationship held together only by

a baby. Some of these men say they feel like walking ATMs. Or, as one dad put it, "a financial handbag".

In all, the topic generates a wave of melancholy and disappointment. It sounds as if there is a hidden army of parents suffering quietly about the lack of sex they're getting. Judging from the comments, most of them are men but some are women. As Kathy Lette wrote in How To Kill Your Husband (And Other Handy Household Hints): "My husband's needs were no longer on my radar. I was in that ?mind-numbing, mother-baby nether world. A baby is the greatest love affair of a woman's life."

But several women responding to my blog sided with the frustrated dads, seeing sex as a duty for anyone in a committed relationship. "I am sure that

I will cop some flak for this but after eight weeks, a woman should be having sex again and it should be part of the marriage vows," wrote "Maggie". "Yes, that means even if she does not 100 per cent feel like it. I know that sounds awful but a lot of women make the children a priority and get themselves into the no-sex mode, while if they said, 'Right, I am having sex,' they would get over that.

"I also think men should take care of the child at least one afternoon on the weekends ... to ensure she realises she is also a woman and the child

can cope without her attention 24/7. Women, sex is part of your marriage duties. Men, if you don't make sure your wife has time away from the child, the child will become her life and you will become nothing."

"Maggie's" point about mums making their children too much of a priority generated further discussion. Both women and men reported witnessing women lost in motherhood, oblivious to their partners. As one reader commented, "I call it the invisible-man syndrome. After the birth of the child, you become invisible to the mother, except when chores need to be done. Eventually, both of you focus on the child, who becomes the only thing you have in common. Eventually, things fall apart."

In her bestseller Baby Love, Robin Barker includes a helpful summation: "The arrival of a baby tends to change a couple's sex life in ways that are seen as negative. For example: many couples don't enjoy sex for up to two months after the birth; a lot of couples have sex much less frequently than before the pregnancy for a year or longer after the birth; at least half of all women are less interested

in sex after the birth than they were before the pregnancy and this may last for six to 12 months." As she says, "Ongoing lack of interest in sex can be a sign of depression in some women."

There are comments of hope. "Caro" was one such voice. "Be patient, be supportive and be creative," she wrote. "It does get better - my children are now 12 and seven and our sex life is back to honeymoon standard. I can hear you guys groan - but hang in there."

And there are those who don't even need to be patient: "What can I say, I've heard of it but it never happened to us with our two children. My wife gave birth naturally and suffered little after-effect. After two weeks, what we did was set aside time for the two of us, time for sex... Maybe I am more lucky than I realised."

For many men, it sounds as if sex after childbirth comes down to understanding and empathy. If you're sensitive and caring, if you pull your weight around the house, if you give her a break, she will love you for it and you'll give yourself the best chance of everything working out in the bedroom.

In the end, I'm taken with the comments posted by "Izzy", who wrote, "May I offer a few hints from the perspective of my advanced age (51) and two children (and still married ... just)? I felt much more attractive before the birth, when I had a large but beautiful bump and I felt like a fertility goddess, than I did after the birth, when the bump was replaced by a mass of stretched skin. I was convinced I'd never be sexy again as long as I lived. So instead I convinced myself that all I really needed to be was a good mother now. After all, no one would ever fancy me again. I felt like a middle-aged, frumpy slug. What I needed was to be told that I was wonderful, gorgeous, sexy and desirable, even if I wasn't. I needed a long, warm, erotic massage and some humour to put it all in perspective. My advice? Make her laugh, give her a great massage and tell her you've never fancied anyone so much

in your life. And try to sound like you mean it."

Nobody said this having kids thing was supposed to be easy. It was always going to be significant and wonderful but not without adjustments and sacrifices. I keep coming back to Jo's patience, determination and bravery in the delivery room and how it made me love her more. And how it made her even more sexy to me. And I keep coming back to Edie, the issue of our love.

In those first weeks, our love-life slowed to a stop because we were busy, exhausted and preoccupied. What's more, I did feel some of Jo's sensual needs were temporarily being fulfilled by the little one. The pair of them had a connection you could almost describe as erotic, it was so physical and intimate. Sometimes this rankled with me; mostly, however, I realised that everything was just as it should be.

And every now and again I couldn't help thinking back to a quip I read somewhere that the three ages of man are tri-weekly, try weekly and try weakly. Very funny. Unfortunately, for a lot of dads, it sounded a little close to the bone. So to speak.