Like any young mother, I’ve lost track of time. The changing seasons registered in my mind only as putting extra clothes on the baby. And my days began to divide into “when I don’t sleep” and “when I try to sleep at night.” Time for me started being measured in five feedings, three daytime naps, and one walk. No one relieved me of the duties of feeding, wiping, and pampering my husband. He, after all, must look presentable—his position demands it. And me? Well, what about me? I comb my hair before every walk.
But today, rain poured from early morning, suddenly giving me an unexpected hour of free time. Seizing this rare opportunity, I decided to call a distant galaxy where beautiful and successful women live—including my longtime friend. I should mention she has extensive experience in married life, crowned by two divorces. With a touch of envy, I listened to her enthusiastic report about a trip to Europe. Then, politely, she inquired about my life. I briefly described my constant time crunch and how my husband now sleeps alone in the living room. And I received advice that knocked me out of my state of emotional carefreeness. The advice was that I must have regular sex with my husband—passionately and creatively—otherwise he might easily seek comfort elsewhere.
I held back my anxiety until evening, continuing with household chores and waiting for my husband to come home from work. When the baby finally fell asleep, I decided it was time for The Big Talk. I presented my friend’s arguments to my husband, though in a gentler form. My wise husband calmly responded to my panicked musings, saying he values and loves me, sees how exhausted I am, and feels he has no right to pressure me with indecent proposals—even though he truly desires it. I seemed to calm down. But then I heard my friend’s voice from tomorrow’s conversation: “What else was he supposed to say? Fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness?” Suppressing a worm of doubt somewhere in my stomach, I nestled my nose against my husband’s cheek. And then he did something he probably hadn’t done since those long-ago candy-and-bouquet days. Overcome with emotion, he blinked rapidly, pressing his cheek to mine. The worm in my stomach melted away, turning into a warm, tickling stream. I realized I was simply and truly happy—and that I have my own positive experience of married life.
