Jagged little pill

I’ve been away for awhile. But I’ve been thinking about this post, and feel compelled to write. I’ve just eaten a late dinner (prawn pizza), gulped a couple drinks (alcoholic and non) and swallowed a prenatal vitamin. It was three weeks ago that I made that change – one little blue pill for one ginormous pink horse tablet. And it was strange for a moment there, but it also felt right. It’s time.

My friends and I have had this talk more lately. There’s already a whole herd of little nippers running around our feet at barbecues. And those of us without, well, we’re starting to look at the tykes with less disgust and more adoration. And oddly, the men folk are too.

It’s not about the pills though. It’s about more than that. It’s really about the sex. Those moments in the bedroom (or on the couch, or against the shower wall – whatever you may fancy) have served a lot of purposes over the years. First and foremost, enjoyment. But also distraction, relaxation, therapy and communication – they’ve brought us closer together, they’ve helped us to patch up fights, take our minds off stress or sadness occurring elsewhere in our life, even perhaps keep our bodies fighting fit – it does burn calories. They’ve ¬†provided hours and hours and oodles of fun. It is only now that we begin to see the other, some may say greater, purpose behind it all.

I swore that I never wanted it to become a chore. That I never wanted sex to begin to create stress rather than take it away. So we’re relaxed about it, but I can already see how it becomes hard for couples who try and try to get the timing right, who wonder, ‘did it take that time’ as the months drag on. We’re in for a wild ride – in more ways than one. I plan to try to sit back and enjoy it all.