Looking for Answers
Buffalo Pictures owns Doc Martin. I own nothing.
Story is set during Season Five and explores the lack of communication between Martin and Louisa.
Chapter 1
There it was, posted on the first place Louisa checked each day as she logged in, New Mums Dot Com. The forum had provided some interesting insights as well as a place to feel that she wasn't quite so alone in her new motherhood as she sometimes felt.
"Since the birth of our first child, my husband won't come near me. He doesn't touch me, or kiss me, or even hug me much. I'm not sure whether the trauma of witnessing the birth, or the idea that I'm the mother of his child, is stopping him. But we don't seem to be able to talk about it at all. Every time I try to bring it up, he changes the subject. In a possibly related development, he also seems to find fault with nearly everything I do. Does anyone have any advice for me? I don't think I can take it any longer. FRUSTRATED IN THE WEST
When she first read it, she blinked twice, because she herself could have written those words. So, there are others who feel like I do, she thought to herself.
Despite having made pretty major concessions to Martin following the birth of their son, Louisa was feeling pretty lonely. True, they were living together at the surgery and Martin was quite helpful in taking over many baby minding responsibilities. He could don an apron and gloves faster than anyone to change a nappy. He was a pretty good clothes washer and folder and he even knew where everything went, and he would put things away in their proper places. He shopped and prepared their "optimally nutritious" meals on a near daily basis, which was admittedly quite useful.
But the only "love" Louisa felt on anything like a reliable basis came from baby James. He was nearly always happy to see her, and smiled in response to her smiling and cooing at him, or if he was fussy, would stop crying when she picked him up most of the time. He seemed to love her holding him close, and snuggling with him. The bonding that she felt with and for the baby was simple and satisfying – but she was really starting to crave something else, something more.
Martin was a rock. He wasn't giving anything to her in the "Offer Louisa Some Comfort" department. He was always ready with advice (often unsolicited, sometimes unwanted, of varying degrees of actual helpfulness) … about how to properly hold or feed or bathe or inspect or dress James … it was maddening. He meant well, she was sure, but it felt a lot like criticism of her, personally and as a mother. And because they weren't all that good at direct, simple communication, her resentment of that running commentary took root and grew inside her.
He barely responded when she kissed him goodbye on the few occasions that she went out on her own. In bed, they slept next to each other, but that's all they did … sleep. Or not sleep, when James insisted on crying. Then Martin would helpfully wake her up to tend to the child. He would point out that she was more properly equipped to respond to James' need than he was.
Her mother's offer to watch James when she returned to her job as headmistress at Portwenn Primary was a mixed blessing. Of course, the idea that her mother had returned and wished to play a more active role in her grandson's life warmed Louisa's heart. At first, she was suspicious of her mother's motives, but Eleanor was proving to be somewhat convincing that she really had come back to be a presence in her daughter's and grandson's lives. Martin was less than enthusiastic when it came to her mother but she assumed his standards were impossibly high. She felt glad to have her mother's support, for the first time in her life.
But the thing Louisa wanted more than anything was a better relationship with Martin, especially if she was going to give up her beloved Cornish lifestyle and standing in Portwenn to move with him and James to London. She wanted to feel loved by Martin.
Since James' birth, when Martin confessed his having been "wrong about everything," she had nursed some hopes that the fledgling emotional connections they felt would grow into something a little sturdier and more substantial. It's why she agreed to move to London in the first place.
She had never aspired to be a doctor's wife. No, she aspired to Martin's partner – friend, lover, parent of James. She had never envisioned simply occupying space in Martin's house (or apartment or life, come to think about it) as James' mother. She wanted more. She deserved more.
The answers posted on the blog were informative, although not completely on point.
Response 1:
My husband did something similar. He wasn't sure what the new boundaries were when it came to "us" after our first child was born. Would I break? Was I depressed? Was he a nuisance? Etc. Once I told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to reassure me on a daily basis of my importance in his life, and back it up with some physical affection (I wouldn't break), we both calmed down a bit. We obviously got something right, because we had our second child recently. With this one, he's the opposite. It's all much easier. Hang in there, FRUSTRATED.
Response 2:
My husband wanted sex almost immediately, which physically wasn't really happening on my end, at least at first. But we managed to find some mutually satisfying activities which met both of our needs. It's funny. He's attracted to me, despite what I could clearly see in the mirror was a bit of a disheveled mess. Never mind that I had weight to lose, or a figure to regain … He still wanted me no matter what, and he wanted attention no matter what. Good luck, FRUSTRATED
Thinking about the range of those first two responses, Louisa thought about where her relationship with Martin existed. They weren't married, so that ultimate sense of commitment and family didn't quite exist for them on the same level that it did for most new parents. On the other hand, they did feel a strong commitment to and love for their son. Did being married to each other make a big difference in how they would react to each other long-term, she wondered.
I could go for some "mutually satisfying activities" myself, she thought. How should I approach it with Martin? What might he respond to? The direct approach? A conversation? No, that might result in yet another lecture, and let's face it, I don't like being lectured by him about anything.
No, a stealth approach launched in the dark might be a best first foray onto the battlefield. She began planning her attack.