"The day I told my husband to 'just put it in'."

Yep. I actually said that.

Last night I actually told my husband to “just put it in, quick”. That actually came out of my mouth. And that’s just not like me. Well, most of the time.

Since having our baby nine months ago, sometimes our love life is back to the way it was pre-baby – all loving and hot. But sometimes, it’s just not. It’s functional. And that’s because we’re trying for Number Two.

The thing is, we’ve been trying for a while now. And it’s not getting us anywhere. Our Number Two just won’t play ball.

It hasn’t been long enough to seek help. And we know we shouldn’t be complaining given there are thousands of couples out there that really struggle to conceive for years, and then need help. But, we fell pregnant straight away with our baby boy – literally, the first weekend we tried. It was like my husband sneezed and WHAM! – nine months later, a baby. My husband was strutting around proud as punch, telling people he’s a walking egg fertilizer, me walking around like Octomum…

So, this time around our expectations are pretty high. But our aim must be off. We just aren’t hitting the mark, and it’s disappointing. Actually, if I’m being truthful – it’s gut wrenching.

I’ll be honest – during my pregnancy I lost all my mojo in the bedroom. I had severe morning sickness for most of it, so had no inkling to do any ‘extra curricular’ activities. Fast forward to after our baby boy’s birth, and it took a long time to get that lovin’ feeling back, mainly because of the state of my ‘downstairs’. Some men say that seeing their other half give birth is like watching their favourite pub burn to the ground. My husband described it as a tank unleashing all hell on said pub.

Everything down there hurt for quite a long time. But even if you took that out of the equation, to say I felt less than sexy post partum would be a massive understatement. I felt like a hippo. In my mind, I was milky, sweaty, pimply, grumpy and exhausted and that’s not a recipe for sexy times.

Now, it’s feeling good again and we’ve been at it like rabbits. Oh wait, hang on – we have a baby (and a very mobile one at that) so not like young rabbits. More like knackered rabbits with a stressful job and a hyperactive baby bunny to feed, bathe and protect. Seriously, when will this bunny learn that climbing shit means he also has to dismount, sans injury?!

If we manage to “nudge nudge wink wink” whilst our little man is asleep, it’s fantastic. Well, the first five days straight are, then there’s the “let’s just do it” look as we roll into each other like a couple of sea lions after a mammoth ocean crossing.

Trying for Number Two is largely responsible for us getting our mojo back in the bedroom. But every month when that little line on the pregnancy test doesn’t appear, it puts a dampener on it. And as the pee-soaked stick drip dries, so do we.

So where is this baby numero duo? A close friend of ours told us they had been trying for a second baby for a year, and had huge trouble falling pregnant. Then, they found out that they were “doing it wrong”.

Seriously, what the hell were they doing wrong? And, more to the point, what are we doing wrong? I have about 10 apps on my phone, running red hot with notifications that the little egg is at the gates and ready to trundle its way down the short and torturous path. And herein lies the problem – each app is telling us it’s a different day, week and sometimes I am fertile whilst I am “clearly not”, if you get what I mean.

Where do we go from here? My husband’s eyes light up each month when that first little alert goes off and it’s on for young and old. In he walks with a suit and a nice spiffy haircut, 15 days later he’s limping out the door with a look of “no more, please no more”. We love the intimacy, but when those hopes fade and the days tick away it’s only natural that sex and passion make way for cuddles and questions like “what’s wrong with us?”.

This sounds selfish in some ways, and for the people out there who have been battling for years we do not know your pain. But, it’s starting to sting a little. We want another little one who’s the best and worst parts of each of us and our son deserves a partner in crime as well who he can be close in age and grow up with.

Seriously, what are we doing wrong? Do you have any advice for this mum?

Like this? Try these:

"Lies I told myself about the second baby."

Can you really love your second child as much as your first?