By Philip Chanin, Ed.D., ABPP, CGP
Board Certified Clinical Psychologist
Assistant Clinical Professor, Department of Psychiatry
Vanderbilt University Medical Center
www.drphilchanin.com
philchanin@gmail.com

“Having children eviscerates romance…In most of the families I have encountered, during the child-raising years—which is quite a stretch by any account—the couple’s relationship is, candidly, largely sacrificed. The unacknowledged truth that everyone knows and few name aloud is that for many, many couples, having children just rips the guts out of romance. And by romance, I don’t just mean sex, as important as that is. I mean all of the many ways couples cherish their connection, all the ways you treated each other when you first fell in love.”
(The New Rules of Marriage by Terrence Real, p. 252-253)

“What’s wrong with being a sexual parent?…Why is parenthood at odds with romance? I must confess that as an American raised in a country with Puritan roots, the very phrase sexual parent gives me the creeps. And while Americans may be unusually uncomfortable with it, the tension between one’s sexuality and one’s parenting is by no means strictly confined to the United States, or even to the West…But we Westerners, with roots in the Germanic and British traditions, do seem to have a particularly hard time allowing healthy sexuality or even robust sensuality to be a normal part of family life.” (p. 253)

“Sex makes babies. So it is ironic that the child, the embodiment of the couple’s love, so often threatens the very romance that brought that child into being. Sex, which set the entire enterprise in motion, is often abandoned once children enter the picture. Even when children come by a different route, their impact on the sex life of the couple is no less dramatic. Many of the couples I see trace the demise of their erotic life back to the arrival of the first child. Why does parenthood so often deliver a fatal blow?” (Mating in Captivity by Ester Perel, p. 125)

“A child is a grenade. When you have a baby, you set off an explosion in your marriage, and when the dust settles, your marriage is different from what is was. Not better, necessarily; not worse, necessarily; but different.” “So wrote Nora Ephron in Heartburn, her roman a clef about the breakup of her previous marriage. Virtually every study that has looked at how people make the transition to parenthood confirms her view. A baby sets of seismic changes in a marriage. Unfortunately, most of the time those changes are for the worse. In the year after the first baby arrives, 70 percent of wives experience a precipitous plummet in their marital satisfaction.” (The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work by John M. Gottman, p. 211)

Both Terrence Real and Esther Perel, acute observers of the impact of children on a couple’s sexual life, write about how our child-centered culture is partly to blame for the demise of the couple’s romance and desire. Real states,

“We have never been so intent, as a culture, on giving our children every advantage that we can. So now both parents feel overwhelmed. Between school, camps, sports, tutoring, lessons, playdates…on and on, we worry over, work for, and put more effort and energy into our kids than any generation before…the cost to our relationships is inarguable. We have only so much to give; there are only so many hours in the day. We can all remember, fondly and longingly, if perhaps dimly, the ways we used to nurture each other. But for most of us, between the twin tasks of doing well for our families out there is the work world and doing well for our children back here at home, an enormous amount of the nurture we used to give to each other goes elsewhere…You cannot sustain the intimacy you enjoyed in the early stage of your relationship unless you are willing to cherish each other in some of the ways that you did at that time. You will not feel like lovers unless you are willing to behave like lovers.” (p. 255)

Esther Perel shares a similar observation. She describes a young couple whom she calls Stephanie and Warren: “Stephanie’s intense focus on her kids is not a mere idiosyncrasy—not simply her own personal style. In fact, this kind of overzealous parenting is a fairly recent trend that has, one hopes, reached it apex of folly. Childhood is indeed a pivotal stage of life that will inevitably shape the child’s future. But the last few decades have ushered in an emphasis on children’s happiness that would make our grandparent’s shudder. Childhood has been sanctified so that it no longer seems ridiculous for one adult to sacrifice herself entirely in order to foster the flawless and painless development of her offspring—a one-person, round-the-clock child rearing factory.” (p. 133)

Perel observes: “Family life flourishes in an atmosphere of comfort and consistency. Yet eroticism resides in unpredictability, spontaneity, and risk. Eros is a force that doesn’t like to be constrained. When it settles into repetition, habit, or rules, it touches its death. It then is transformed into boredom and sometimes, more powerfully, into repulsion. Sex, a harbinger of loss of control, is fraught with uncertainty and vulnerability. But when kids come on the scene, our tolerance for these destabilizing emotions takes a dive. Perhaps this is why they are so often relegated to the fringes of family life. What eroticism thrives on, family life defends against.” (pp. 128-129)

Perel then shares an example from Stephanie and Warren. She quotes Stephanie as saying,

“I knew we were in trouble when I couldn’t even think about having sex until all the toys were put away,” her patient Stephanie reluctantly admits. “And then there are the dishes, the laundry, the bills, the dog. The list never ends. The chores always seem to win out, and intimacy between Warren and me gets lost in the shuffle. If someone were to ask me, ‘What would you rather do, mop the kitchen floor or make love to your husband?’ of course I would pick sex. But in real life? I push Warren away and grab the mop.” (p. 129)

Perel adds, “What Stephanie fails to see is that behind Warren’s nagging insistence (for sex) is a yearning to be intimate with his wife. For him, sex is a prelude to intimacy, a pathway to emotional vulnerability. She responds to him as if he were one more needy child. She doesn’t realize that this is not just for him but for her, too. Like a lot of women, once she’s in the caretaking mode she has a hard time switching it off. She’s so mentally organized in terms of what she does for everyone else that she is unable to recognize when something is offered to her.” (p. 136)

Perel explains how mothers replace the pleasure they once received from their male partners with pleasure from their children:

“Stephanie gets tremendous physical pleasure from her children…a certain replacement has occurred. The sensuality that women experience with their children is, in some ways, much more in keeping with female sexuality in general…Female eroticism is diffuse, not localized in the genitals but distributed throughout the body, mind, and senses. It is tactile and auditory, linked to smell, skin, and contact; arousal is often more subjective than physical, and desire arises on a lattice of emotion.” (p. 132)

Perel elaborates on this point: “In the physicality between mother and child lie a multitude of sensuous experiences. We caress their silky skin, we kiss, we cradle, we rock. We nibble their toes, they touch our faces, we lick their fingers, let them bite us when they’re teething. We are captivated by them and can stare at them for hours. When they devour us with those big eyes, we are besotted, and so are they. This blissful fusion bears a striking resemblance to the physical connection between lovers. In fact, when Stephanie describes the early rapture of her relationship with Warren—lingering gazes, weekends in bed, baby talk, toe-nibbling—the echoes are unmistakable. When she says, “At the end of the day, I have nothing left to give,’ I believe her.’” (pp. 132-133)

I work with many couples who are raising young children, and often one of their chief complaints is that they no longer have sex. In the first session with a new couple, I ask them to fill out a questionnaire about how pleased they are with their partners along twelve dimensions of relational life. I ask them to rate each dimension along a scale from #1 being “not pleased” to #10 being “very pleased.” Invariably, the item “our sex life” is the lowest or one of the lowest rated items. One couple I work with came to see me when their boys were aged 5 and 2 and ½. The husband rated “our sex life” with the lowest score of the 12 items. The wife rated two items with her lowest score: “our sex life” and “your spouse’s outlook on life.”

Terrence Real urges couples with children to “reclaim romantic space.” He writes,

“In order to be romantic, you have to push back the demands of everyday life enough to create a space to be romantic in. You need time, a place, and energy. The simplest way to create that space is by going away…Your children will manage to live without you for a short interval, and you need the time to reconnect with each other…Taking off and physically leaving is a macro-level tactic. Smaller, micro-level tactics focus on reclaiming space in your everyday lives…I can’t tell you how many couples I tell to schedule sex…Or, if that feels too pressured, then schedule ‘sensual time together, which may or may not become sexual. Couples regularly schedule date nights every week or couple of weeks, time that’s just for the two of you.” (pp. 256-257)

Perel writes in a similar vein: “If Warren and Stephanie are going to get their groove back, they need to free themselves, both emotionally and practically, from the disproportionate focus on their kids. Spontaneity is desirable, but the reality of family life demands planning. Couples without kids can initiate sex on a whim, but parents need to be more practical. Be it a regular date night, a weekend away every few months, or an extra half hour in the car, what matters is that the couple cordon off erotic territory for themselves. When Warren and Stephanie balk at the idea of premediated sex, I respond, ‘Planning can seem prosaic, but in fact it implies intentionality, and intentionality conveys value. When you plan for sex, what you’re really doing is affirming your erotic bond. It’s what you did when you were dating. Think of it as prolonged foreplay—from twenty minutes to two days.” (p. 142)

Perel states that “Planning has proved to be most useful for Stephanie, who elaborates, ‘I’ve had to explain to him that, for me, scheduled intercourse is not a date. I need to go out. I want food that someone else has cooked, dishes that someone else is going to wash. When we go out, we talk, we kiss, we joke. We can finish a sentence without being interrupted. He pays attention to me, and it makes me feel sexy.’” (pp. 142-143)

Perel adds, “Not only do their rendezvous help maintain the emotional connection so critical for Stephanie; they also help her to make the transition from full-time mom to lover. ‘For so long, my thinking about sex was how to avoid it. Knowing that Warren and I have a date has helped me to anticipate it instead. I pamper myself. I take a shower, shave my legs, put on makeup. I make a special effort to block the negativity and to give myself permission just to be sexual.” (p. 143)

The Summer, 2015, edition of NPI Reflects, the newsletter of the Nashville Psychotherapy Institute, includes an article entitled “The Mindful Practice of Intimacy” by David Yarian, Ph.D.
Dr. Yarian is a highly regarded certified sex therapist. He writes, “I’ve worked with many couples who present with ‘low desire,’ a rather subjective term…Sexuality professionals prefer the more precise term discrepant desire…’Low desire’ is the number one reason people seek sex therapy.” (p. 5)

Dr. Yarian continues: “I don’t debate terminology with couples, but listen carefully to their stories and take note of the ways in which they may be missing each other: unresolved conflicts and conflict avoidance; chronic high stress levels from dual careers, children, and busy lives; inadequate self-care; overfunctioning and underfunctioning in the relationship; poor communication skills; emotional distancing; health challenges, including sexual pain.” (p. 5)

Dr. Yarian describes his approach with couples: “I’ve come to believe there is a profound path to sustainable intimacy based on approaching sex as a form of meditation. Sexual meditation invites the participants to inhabit the present moment by attending to sensation in the body while letting go of cogitation, worry, and analysis…Giving and receiving pleasure is prioritized over trying to ‘achieve’ erections or orgasms…I suggest to my clients that they are wise to be intentional about their sexual relationship…relationships require attention, maintenance, and periodic re-invention. Deferred maintenance works no better for relationships than it does for houses and automobiles.” (p. 5)

Dr. Yarian utilizes what he calls “Intimacy Practices” with couples. He describes these as “carefully graded couple exercises designed to be engaging, efficient of time, enjoyable, and relaxing. They are unusual activities, often non-verbal, that highlight connection and communication. Intimacy Practices are based on mindful attention to oneself and openness to the partner’s experience.” (p. 5)

Dr. Yarian describes his initial Intimacy Practice, which I learned from him and which I have also taught to many of the couples I work with: “It is a joint mindfulness meditation. The couple embraces as they synchronize their breathing for five minutes. The task is to simultaneously focus on their breath and their partner’s breath. Most couples find this to be pleasant. The differentness of the activity begins to set Intimacy Practice time apart from regular life. Time slows down as the partners perform this wordless and profound practice. A side effect of focusing on the breath is relaxation, which helps everything.?” (p. 5)

Dr. Yarian states that subsequent Intimacy Practices “include giving feedback about touch, with the partners taking turns touching and receiving touch. A related Practice offers couples the opportunity to exchange touch and caresses. Separating the roles of giving and receiving allows both partners to explore the nuances of each activity. Other practices include mindful kissing, eye-gazing, dancing without music, facial massage, using reciprocal breathing to exchange erotic energy, and genital massage.” (p. 6)

Dr. Yarian summarizes his approach: “With steady engagement with the Intimacy Practices model, many couples rediscover their desire. They learn not to panic if what they want is not immediately available. They find a sphere of safety in which their vulnerabilities are respected. They learn to give feedback rather than criticism, and to not take their partner’s responses so personally. Step my step, building confidence and trust, they practice intimacy.” (p. 6)