A year ago, I penned an article titled “Why a Mother Doesn’t Want to Be Touched.” In it, I delved into the phenomenon of my partner, Jenna, feeling “touched out.” At the time, we were wrangling three little ones (ages 8, 5, and 11 months), and after a day of dedicated clinginess from the kiddos, all she craved was a few moments of solitude—without anyone tugging at her.
This created a bit of a standoff. You see, at the end of a long day, I often just want to embrace my wife. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than a cozy hug. In my younger years, I might have thought about it differently, but now in my 30s, it’s simply about savoring those moments of connection.
I remember feeling puzzled when Jenna would pull away after a day spent with our energetic trio. I mean, I was her husband, right? We had been together for over a decade—wouldn’t I be the one person she felt completely at ease with? For a while, I mistakenly took her rejection of my affection as a sign that our marriage was drifting apart. Friends of mine who had gone through divorces often said, “We just fell out of love,” and I wondered if Jenna’s resistance to touch was a symptom of this phenomenon.
Then, one day, Jenna clarified things for me: “It’s not you,” she reassured me. “I love you and the kids, but after a day of holding a sick child and juggling their needs, I just need a breather. It’s sensory overload.” She exhaled deeply and explained how the endless tugging from booger-y, drool-y, and sometimes puke-y children made her long for a bubble of solitude. “In the evenings, all I want is an hour without being touched—just some space to breathe and unwind.”
That conversation was a revelation for me as both a husband and a father. I had never experienced sensory overload on that level. I couldn’t fathom being touched so much that I didn’t even want to be touched by the person I love most. Yet, I slowly began to grasp this reality.
Since that day, I’ve made a conscious effort to give Jenna the space she needs after those long days with the kids. I’ve learned to step back when I see her overwhelmed and give her those precious touch-free moments. Sometimes, men are said to come from Mars and women from Venus, but I believe understanding each other is all about communication—expressing our needs and finding common ground. In this case, it’s recognizing that a mother occasionally needs a little distance.
Honestly, I may never fully comprehend what being “touched out” feels like, even after my time as a stay-at-home dad. But I can certainly sympathize and strive to support Jenna in her reality. I’ve taken steps to create that space for her, often herding the children away when it’s clear she could use a break.
Touch is my love language. Jenna’s touch brings me feelings of confidence and connection that I’ve never experienced with anyone else. Admittedly, not being able to touch her whenever I want has been tough. I don’t cling to her like the kids do, but I do enjoy holding her after a busy day, even if just for a moment.
What I’ve noticed is that when I grant her the space she seeks, she often gravitates back to me. It’s like a boomerang of affection. I remember a time when she would lean in for a kiss, but after having kids, it felt like we lost that spark. I worried it was a sign of falling out of love, but I now understand it was simply the result of the daily chaos of parenting. Jenna just needed a little time to reset—nothing extensive, just an hour or so after a challenging day.
If you’re interested in more insights on parenting and home insemination, check out our other blog posts, like this one on intracervical insemination. For those considering the journey of parenthood, Make A Mom offers great resources on home insemination kits. And for more information about fertility, Cleveland Clinic’s podcast is an excellent resource.
In summary, giving a mother touch-free time can be a game changer in a relationship. Understanding her needs for a little space can lead to renewed intimacy and connection, proving that love often requires patience and communication.