The other day, 9 nine month old Mikro was climbing all over me on the couch, when he paused and put his head down on my belly, in such a way that it looked like he was listening to it...
Kev: Watcha doing listening to mommy's belly, Mikro? There's no baby in there yet.
Me: Yet?!? What, you want another one? (Thinking: Whoa, no way, not till the Boy is at least 3 or 4, and not likely even then!)
Kev: At least that way I know I'd get to have sex at least one more time before I die!
Me: Argh.
Let's just say that between breastfeeding the world champion twiddler and a host of horrendously triggering stuff going on in my life that has me borederline insane, getting amorous ain't exactly high on my list at the moment. Poor Kev.
And even without the baby, since the Accident, between pain and PTSD, he doesn't get a whole lotta lovin'.
He was seriously disappointed -- no, actually, pissed-- that we managed to conceive Mikro on the first shot (and yes, I knew exactly when to do the deed with the most probability of success, which he resents somewhat) because he got gypped out of the fun of going on trying... Me, I was just thrilled that it was so easy to get pregnant in our late thirties, because I know alot of other couples, some younger than us, who have not had such an easy time of it...
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