A year ago, I penned a piece on “Why a Mother Sometimes Needs Space.” In that article, I explored how my partner, Sarah, occasionally feels “touched out.” At the time, we were navigating life with three young children (ages 8, 5, and 11 months), and after a day filled with their endless clinging, she yearned for a moment of solitude without anyone needing her attention.
This created a bit of a dilemma. By the end of the day, all I wanted was to wrap my arms around her and share a kiss. It didn’t necessarily signal a desire for intimacy; it was simply the need for connection. In my younger years, physical affection often led to something more, but now, in my 30s, I found comfort in just holding my wife for a quick moment.
I remember feeling perplexed when Sarah would pull away after a demanding day with the kids. After over a decade together, I believed I should be the person she felt completely at ease with. I often questioned whether her reluctance to be touched was a sign that our relationship was waning. Friends going through divorces would mention “falling out of love,” leaving me wondering if that was what I was witnessing.
Then, one day, Sarah clarified: “It’s not you,” she explained. “I love the kids and I love you, but after a day of holding a sick baby and soothing a toddler, I just want some time without being touched. It’s not that I don’t love you; it’s just that the sensory overload can be intense.”
That conversation was illuminating for me as both a husband and a father. I had never experienced sensory overload to that extent. It took some time to fully grasp her feelings, and I often found myself taking her need for space personally. But now, I remind myself of our talk and recognize that she sometimes needs those touch-free moments.
This situation exemplifies the age-old adage that men are from Mars and women are from Venus. Understanding your partner often requires open communication about feelings and needs, especially when one person is feeling overwhelmed. In this case, the compromise is respecting a mother’s need for a little space.
While I might never fully grasp what it feels like to be “touched out,” I continue to empathize with Sarah and help alleviate her stress. When I see her overwhelmed, I try to give her the space she needs and divert the children’s attention when possible.
As someone whose love language is touch, I derive immense comfort and connection from Sarah’s affection. I’ll admit that I found it challenging not to show her affection all the time. It’s not that I cling to her like our children do, but I treasure those moments of closeness after a long day.
Interestingly, I’ve noticed that when I give Sarah the space she needs, she often seeks me out more, reaching for me in ways reminiscent of our pre-kids days. It feels wonderful when she initiates that connection; it’s a reminder of the love we share. Before children, Sarah would often lean in for a kiss, but after having kids, it seemed like that aspect of our relationship had diminished. I had worried that we were drifting apart, but I now understand it was merely the strain of parenthood.
Sometimes, all it takes is a brief period of separation to help her recharge and reconnect. Not long, just an hour or so after a particularly hectic day, is often enough for her to feel like herself again.
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In summary, giving a mother some touch-free time is essential for her emotional well-being. By understanding her need for space and respecting it, we can help foster a stronger connection and a healthier family dynamic.