Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.
This week we hear from Kylie*, a 33-year-old mother-of-four who has been with her husband for 11 years, and married for two.
On top of juggling childcare and work, Kylie suffers with endometriosis which she was diagnosed with after giving birth to her twins in 2018.
Endometriosis is when cells similar to those in the lining of the womb grow in other parts of the body. It can cause debilitating pain, particularly during periods.
Kylie was offered a hysterectomy to treat her condition, but refused, as she worries about the symptoms of early menopause.
Instead, she’s had a laparoscopy to remove the endometrial tissue embedded in her C-section scar.
‘Prior to procedure, I was in a lot of pain, more or less all the time, so sex was a rarity,’ she explains. ‘We would have to stop and start or even just try again another day.
‘Since my operation I’ve been in less pain which has made sex easier, but I also suffer with bad PMS and erratic periods which come with heavy bleeding.’
Her husband, Joe*, tries to help but struggles to understand fully what Kylie is going through. ‘It’s one of our biggest problems as my mood swings are horrendous,’ says Kylie. ‘He tries to make life easier for me when I’m really suffering, but I don’t think he understands I feel like a different person sometimes.’
Despite all this, Kylie and her partner aim to have sex at least once a week and she really enjoys that intimacy.
She says: ‘I’m more confident than I was when I was younger – I think that’s because I’m married and have been having sex with the same person.
‘We’ve mastered the art of knowing what each other likes and it’s fun still, although I can’t wait for the day we don’t have to worry about waking the children.’
So, without further ado, here’s how Kylie got on this week…
The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work.
Monday
‘Quickie?’
The text from my husband chimes on my phone while he’s currently sleeping in one of our twins’ beds. I’m in bed with our almost six-month-old who quite frankly hates sleep.
I respond: ‘How horny are you?’ It’s a question I often ask. Years ago before we lived together, we’d sext and rate our horniness out of 10. All these years later, the question has stuck.
’10,’ he responds.
I pop baby back in her cot, praying she gives us a bit of time, and we meet on the lounge sofa. I’m exhausted, but I’m trying to grab these moments knowing how difficult it can be to get any ‘us’ time at the moment.
We begin to have sex, but I often get somewhat anxious about the aftermath.
‘Will I bleed?’ The thoughts that circle my aroused mind as his head is between my legs.
Joe is an expert at knowing how to get me there, and it doesn’t take long — ideal for the start of a busy week, and it is a quickie after all.
‘No blood babe,’ he says, as he pulls out of me.
Tuesday
I wake up to baby squirms, but it’s comforting to see my husband laying in bed next to me. With so many kids, it’s a rarity we manage a full night together, and it only happens a couple o times a week.
I can hear the morning noise of our children in the other rooms. I’m feeling a little tender, nothing unusual after sex sometimes, especially six months postpartum.
‘Cuppa tea?’ my husband asks. ‘Yes please,’ I say.
I have a scan later this week which will give me a better idea of where I am at with my endometriosis post birth, and I’m nervous.
Pregnancy is a glorious thing for endometriosis because the tissues stops growing when you don’t have periods, but since I had my youngest, I’m not sure what’s going on down there.
I’m currently not using contraception as it works best for my mental health, but the pill also stops periods and therefore the growth of the endo tissue. I’m hoping the doctors can offer me a solution.
Today is a normal working day. I work from home as a self-employed virtual assistant, and it works brilliantly around the children. Sex will no doubt be on my husband’s mind already, the more I give, the more he wants so I’m expecting him to nip back from work because he’s ‘forgotten’ something.
He knows deep down it won’t be again today. I’m knee deep in work, caffeinated up to the eyeballs and have a teething baby that is relentless. Nonetheless, he pops back for lunch.
I’m not the affectionate one in our marriage – my husband refers to me as an ice queen – definitely something I’m trying to work on (amongst everything else on the f**king list) as I know it really brings the two of us closer.
Wednesday
Wednesdays I have a baby group, which means the mornings are manic. No one wants to go to school or get dressed, the teething baby continues to scream and I’m already feeling a little stressed.
The house feels tense, and it doesn’t help that I’m still thinking about this scan, plus my period is due in the next week.
My endometriosis diagnosis didn’t come easily. The journey started after my c-section, when I spent a weekend in A&E with heavy bleeding.
I spent a lot of time back and forth from the hospital telling them something was wrong, but it wasn’t until eight weeks post-baby when a scan revealed the truth. With each period, I know there’s going to be a lot of pain, and it makes me anxious.
There’s also the PMS which makes me a miserable cow for the week leading up to it.
I find myself sometimes resenting the fact my husband’s body is still the same as when I first met him. He’s ageing like fine wine, and I probably fancy him more than I did all those years ago.
It’s 8pm in our house, everyone’s asleep and the house is quiet. We take the opportunity to get sexy on the sofa, and he pulls my thong off – putting his head is between my legs. He knows it’s my favourite.
We somehow end up in the kitchen, where he bends me over the kitchen unit. ‘Were like ninjas,’ I whisper to him. He laughs, while thrusting into me from behind. ‘We live a wild life babe.’
Thursday
It’s the scan this evening, and I try to keep myself busy.
To add to our ever-growing list of manic stress, we’ve decided to sell our house. I get it ready for the estate agent to take some photos, chuckling to myself as I clean the kitchen sides I was bent over last night.
I’m hoping my period doesn’t arrive early, it’s so unpredictable now, more than ever. Last month I woke up to it just pouring down my legs and that
wasn’t even after sex.
Its 6pm, everyone’s home from work and school and I’m getting ready to leave for my scan. I need to remember to talk to the nurse about contraception, because the pull-out method and condoms probably aren’t the wisest – we already have a house full, and I don’t think my body would cope with a fourth pregnancy.
At the scan, I lay down as I’m scanned transvaginally, which is basically an ultrasound but the scanner is inserted inside the vagina. I’m used to it by now.
The consultant confirms my womb lining is thick, I have cysts on both ovaries, and a bulky womb. I feel pretty numb. It makes sense I think.
Between us we agree to wait another three to four months to see if my periods settle a little on their own before any other intervention.
I’m home, its late, I have filled my husband in, and we have a conversation about him having a vasectomy. Understandably he has very mixed views on the topic. We’re both done with having children but it’s a big decision for him.
We don’t reach a decision on this today, so we just get into bed and have a kiss and cuddle.
Friday
I’ve woken up miserable, for no apparent reason and I know it’s my hormones affecting my mood. I get so short tempered right before my period – my patience wears thin and I generally do feel sorry for myself.
Friday night is normally takeaway night in our house, and I’m starving. I wish I was in the mood for sex, because it’s a cold evening, I’ve lit some candles, and the ambience is just right.
Although my husband would never initiate sex so close to my period he always jokes about doing so. I love him sometimes for just trying, I must be like two different wives.
Saturday
Its 5am, I’m awake with our smallest, and my period arrives.
I throw on some big pants and pads, my husband has stirred from sleep and I tell him I’ve come on. I’m glad I can be open about my cycle with him.
Although he knows sex won’t be on the cards for a week or so, I’m pretty sure he’s pleased, as he knows I’ll be in a better mood in a couple of days.
Sunday
A day of home comfort for me. On day one and two of my period, I generally don’t feel great and avoid going out if I can. I’m popping tranexamic acid – it helps the blood clots and slows my bleeding.
It’s a cosy winter day outside, and I take the opportunity to watch some Disney films with the kiddies.
My husband is going to cook a roast, and it feels like there is light at the end of the tunnel, as I can feel my mood lifting. It’s bloody hard being a woman.
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