We hadn't been intimate in seven months.
Not because I stopped loving him. But because somewhere in the last two years, sex became something my body punished me for. The burning. The tightness. That sharp pain that made me hold my breath and pray it would be over quickly.
I started going to bed before him. Not because I was tired. Because I couldn't face another night of lying there with tears in my eyes, pretending everything was fine.
Last Tuesday he reached for me in bed and I pulled away. Not because I didn't want him. Because I already knew how it would end. Him being gentle. Me bracing myself. And both of us lying in silence afterward.
That was the night I knew I couldn't keep doing this to us.
So I made an appointment with a pelvic floor therapist. And what she told me changed everything.
"Your marriage isn't broken," she said.
She pulled out her notepad and started drawing.
"When you lie flat, your pelvis tilts forward. That creates three problems at once." She circled each one as she spoke. "Friction against sensitive tissue. Pressure where there shouldn't be any. And your pelvic floor physically cannot relax."
She put the pen down and looked at me.
"The pain isn't because something is wrong with you. It's because your body has been in the wrong position. Think of it like reading glasses. Your eyes aren't broken. They just need the right tool."