Sharing a romantic kiss with my wife to seal our wedding vows, I never imagined that her head would be turned by another man, or so soon.
Call me naive, but in that perfect moment three years ago I truly believed I’d always be the centre of her universe and she mine.
But just a year later along came Theo, with his deep brown eyes and cheeky smile, to steal Sophia’s heart away. Thankfully, far from being 6ft tall with a killer body, the new man in Sophia’s life is still wearing nappies and yet to discover Father Christmas and the Easter Bunny.
Theo is our gorgeous, two-year-old son, and I also love him more than anyone on the planet. It’s just that I hadn’t thought how devastating it would feel when Sophia’s affections transferred from me to him after he arrived that August day in 2022 and I was no longer the most important person in her life.
Women reading this may think men like me need to grow up and accept that of course a tiny baby is the priority for a new mum, who has enough on her plate without tending to a husband’s fragile ego as well.
But new research suggests I’m not just being self-centred. A study published in the British Medical Journal this month argues that, because of the life-changing impact of having a child, fathers should be given as much emotional support as mothers both before and after the birth.
The Newcastle University study drew on research from around the world and found that most new dads had experiences that negatively affected their mental health and wellbeing.
I certainly could have done with more help before Theo arrived to prepare me for the seismic change my life was about to undergo.
Pre-baby, Sophia and I – we began dating in sixth-form – were known for being inseparable. For nearly 15 years she put me first. Long, uninterrupted conversations were the norm, as were dinner dates and watching movies on the sofa. If I needed to bounce ideas around or seek Sophia’s advice, she’d drop everything to give me her attention.
Nevertheless, having a large family was an aspiration we shared from the start, imagining a future where we’d bundle our brood of five into the car for day trips and holidays.
We were delighted when Sophia became pregnant on our first attempt and, determined to be completely hands-on, I pored over a book aimed at dads-to-be. It detailed pregnancy month by month, the physical and emotional changes my wife was likely to be experiencing, and our unborn baby’s development.
Much less covered was the impact I could expect parenthood to have on me.
And while it did mention that I should brace myself for not being number one when the baby arrived, I simply didn’t believe it. Incredulous, I read the chapter aloud to Sophia, who laughed nervously.
When Theo was born, for the four days that he and Sophia were in hospital while she recovered from a caesarean section, I still felt like the most important person in her life as she relied on me to look after her.
Fast forward to my return to work as an engineer after a couple of weeks’ paternity leave and I went hurtling to the bottom of the pile. Realisation quickly dawned that Sophia and Theo had an incredibly special relationship and were getting along just fine without me.
I can identify with the findings of the Newcastle study that fathers often feel excluded from the mother-child bond.
Despite still recovering from the C-section and breastfeeding to order, she’d even have dinner cooked when I got home. It meant that not only was I second in line for her affections, I felt surplus to requirements.
When I first mentioned my worries to Sophia, she soothed me with platitudes such as ‘of course Theo and I need you’. But within days my insecurities would return, probably because I danced around the real issue – namely that our sex life had screeched to a halt.
It’s absolutely no surprise to me that researchers identified how the loss of intimacy after a baby arrived ‘strained the relationship’. Because even in the bedroom I’d been usurped by my son. Co-sleeping meant he took my spot in our bed while I was on the floor or in the spare room.
I’d come home from a bad day at work, hoping for a hug and a chat with Sophia, only to find her engrossed in breastfeeding Theo on the sofa. It was the same at bedtime when I longed for a cuddle – and, yes, sex – with my wife. Though I wasn’t jealous of Sophia and Theo’s connection, I craved time alone with her just how it used to be.
Being the first of our friendship group to have children meant I didn’t have anyone to confide in. While my mates would meet for drinks after work and go on lads’ holidays, I was feeling isolated both socially and at home.
I tried to be nonchalant about it and yet it was really bothering me. No wonder the study says that many new fathers are ‘emotionally tested to breaking point’.
I’d broach conversations with Sophia about feelings that were easier to deal with, telling her I was sad we couldn’t go out and eat a spontaneous dinner together, when deep down the thing I really wanted to talk about was sex.
Naively I’d just assumed that once she recovered from the birth, our sex life of old, when we’d be intimate once or twice a week, would simply continue.
As well as feeling sexually undesirable, I noticed there was less physical contact in general. She never gave me so much as an affectionate hug or playful punch on the arm.
My angst reached a head when Theo was four months old and we left him overnight with his grandparents while we went to the wedding of one of Sophia’s closest friends.
Though I’d been hopeful of a romantic, sex-filled night away, I’d underestimated how busy she’d be on bridesmaid duties. Feeling more alone than ever, I got horribly drunk at the bar.
The next morning she confronted me about it and I confessed all. Though we were both upset, it was this conversation that began to heal our relationship. Sophia admitted that she also missed sex and cuddles, but that she’d naturally diverted all her affection to our son.
What a weight off my mind it was to hear that she still wanted to be intimate with me. Though we didn’t have sex that day, we made more effort to be tactile with one another and two weeks later we finally resumed our sexual relationship. For that time, at least, I felt like Sophia’s number one again.
When Theo was a year old, I reduced my working hours so I could look after him two days a week while Sophia returned to work part-time as a healthcare manager, a move that’s been a game changer. Theo elevates me to number one in his world on the days I look after him, and I feel more important to Sophia, too.
Even now, two years after Theo’s birth, our sex life hasn’t fully returned and maybe it never will. But I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m no longer Sophia’s priority and she’s no longer mine, though we’ve mutually reduced our ambition for a huge brood down to maybe just one or two more.
While my ego can now cope with being below my son in my wife’s pecking order, I’m not sure I could cope with tumbling much further.
- Chris Beaumont is a pseudonym. Names have been changed. As told to Sadie Nicholas.
