For the past dozen years, my life revolved around children. With three little ones, there was always a baby or a toddler in the mix—sometimes even two toddlers or two babies. Amid the chaos, my sense of intimacy faded, and reclaiming it became a daunting task.
Before parenthood, my partner Jason and I relished our weekend escapades. Saturdays were our cherished days: we’d sleep in, enjoy breakfast, hit the gym, indulge in gourmet coffees, and tackle chores like grocery shopping and laundry. Somewhere in that idyllic routine, we always found time for some steamy Saturday sex. I really miss those carefree moments.
However, even during our youthful days, I had never been a fan of morning intimacy. Jason would often suggest it, but I would recoil at the thought. My morning breath, the need to use the bathroom, and the overwhelming mental checklist of household tasks would crowd my mind, pushing any romantic notions far away until later in the day.
Then came the kids, and everything shifted dramatically. The transition from frequent Saturday afternoons to virtually no intimacy was jarring. I felt overwhelmed, recovering from childbirth, and dealing with all the associated challenges. Somehow, we still added to our family, but those moments of connection became fleeting.
Fast forward to today—our kids are now 12, 10, and 7, and they’re more independent than ever. Weekends now afford us a bit of extra sleep (until they inevitably start squabbling over the Xbox or the last slice of pizza). We’ve recently begun to reconnect with our younger selves.
Every now and then, we find an opportunity to sneak away on a Saturday afternoon, telling the kids we need to “discuss something important.” This gives us a chance to lock the door and steal a moment together—though it’s not as carefree as it once was, given the teddy bears tucked into our bed and the sounds of sibling squabbles nearby.
But last weekend was different. As we lounged in bed on a Saturday morning, listening to our kids play downstairs, Jason raised an eyebrow at me, invitingly. In that moment, all my previous hesitations melted away. What did it matter if our breath wasn’t minty fresh or if the kitchen was still a mess? Those concerns felt trivial. With kids in the house, every chance for intimacy is precious, and I finally recognized that.
To my surprise, I jumped out of bed and locked the door. With our children obliviously playing below, two weary, middle-aged parents enjoyed a wonderfully passionate morning encounter. In that space, I felt liberated—no worries about the kids, no anxiety about my appearance. It was a blissful 10 (or was it 20?) minutes of raw, intimate connection.
Why did I resist this for so long? I’ve missed those Saturdays, and I’ve missed Jason. Now, as we embrace our 40s—perhaps a bit rounder and more jiggly than we were in our 20s—we’re rediscovering each other, often in those morning hours.
I wish I hadn’t taken nearly two decades to appreciate the joys of morning intimacy, but I’m excited to spend the next 18 years embracing these moments without the weight of old inhibitions.
To all the mothers who feel overwhelmed, exhausted, and less than sexy, know that you are not alone. I understand your struggles; I’ve been right there with you. Hold on—it does get better. While your youthful self may feel distant, a new, empowered version of you is ready to shine.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the journey of a mother rediscovering intimacy with her partner after years of parenting. It highlights the transition from frequent intimacy to almost none, ultimately leading to a newfound appreciation for morning sex in their 40s. The piece reassures other mothers that intimacy can return, and encourages them to embrace their evolving identities.