It has taken me a year to only partially tell my love story, my unexpected, desperate, struggling, and out-right fiery love story, and when it came to the part before my third-born began to stretch me way past my limits, I was able to write about a point of great touch-exhaustion, the condition of being overly touched (by children).

Once in a while when my touch-deprived husband offends me with a physical advance, like he loves me, like I am not my own, like my physical being is his for the taking, I shrug him away in the way an unrested soul and body only can.

…continue reading at (in)courage.me