A year after his parents' courtship had begun, tiny fetus Nathan ostensibly witnessed their betrothal while in utero, followed some weeks later by much laughter on the part of his parents concerning the wedding photographer's immense care not to show the sizable six-month bump in a single photograph in the Holts' tasteful wedding album.

Almost five weeks after the birth, Nate's mother stands in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to be ready. This coffee is her first of the day and it's almost noon. Though there is desperation in this fact, Nathan's new mother is experiencing the delicious pleasure of standing alone in a quiet kitchen, paging through a catalog while her infant sleeps.

As she looks at said catalog, her eyes alight upon a chaste camisole sort of number made of the "finest Danish green cotton.".... Danish cotton sounds like it might feel really good against her skin. She brings the catalogue closer to her face. She holds it away. She smiles, confirming the marked similarity between the breasts under the Danish green cotton and the D-cups Nathan's mom has been unexpectedly proud of sporting since her son's birth.
   
Baby Nate's mom may only have known his dad for a total of thirteen months at this point, but she's familiar enough with her new husband to know that he's no lingerie man. Garters and teddies, even thong underwear (thank God, she thinks) are a turnoff for her guy. This new mom knows her husband well enough to conclude that the surest way to get him going (she doubts it'll be all that difficult given their recent new-baby sex drought) is to don one of his dress shirts with nothing on underneath.
   
Five diaper changes, three burp cloths, four different outfits (three for the baby, one for herself), and she's made it through the day. Right before six o'clock she hears her husband's car pull into the garage and Nathan's mother is pleased because she has just finished nursing the baby, who has fallen asleep next to her on the king-size bed. She has lighted candles, poured herself an unfashionably full goblet of expensive cabernet, and has her favorite Miles Davis on the stereo. She hears her man move through the mudroom into the kitchen. He calls her name but...offers no reply. She waits, smiling to herself, getting--with significant relief--more and more hot about this little setup of hers.

And when the baby's father rounds the corner and gets a load of the music and the candles, the wine and his favorite white dress shirt gaping to reveal the perfect round breasts (that belong to his wife!)--when she moves forward to sit on splayed knees there on the bed--he forgets entirely that they have a child. He hurries across plush carpet and onto the bed, almost crushing his tiny son with his knee, but Nate's dad only smiles murmuring, "No harm, no foul."
   
Mercifully, the baby snoozes on. Mercifully because Nathan's parents like to take things slowly. [They] are old enough to know that maximum pleasure comes from maximum attention, from the right fingertips applied to the right area, from the perfect amount of pressure on the no-longer-quite-so-perfect body part.

On and on Nate sleeps and things are getting good.
   
Things are so good, in fact, that Ellen gives Peter the nod. A little smile and a hand on her new husband's ass mean it's okay. Of course, there is concern that childbirth will have forever altered sex. That there will be lack of sensation or serious pain (not looseness per se because Ellen has had a C-section). But none of the above! This feels good. Great, in fact. All their slow, hard work is paying off and things are heating up and this could be memorable.

When there on the bed beside his fucking parents, baby Nate explodes. He is startled from infant sleep by a fart storm. Thunderous flatulence drowns out Miles Davis and the bedsprings and drowns out his parents' laughter at such loud explosive farting from such a teeny body.

And it's a good thing Nate's folks appreciate the scatological and see real humor in this, because Nathan's dad's erection is losing traction and though Nate's dad will be able to block out the crazy farting that's going on and on and on and on beside them, though he will be able to look away from the tiny purple straining face and get his business done, Nate's mother won't be so lucky.

Which is all right. Really. Because even without an orgasm for her, this evening is a victory. This new mom actually felt like having sex. She herself created a situation in which she and Nate's dad had sex again! Although Ellen feels momentarily unsatisfied when Rick rolls off her, frustration is short-lived.

She reaches across the bed, away from her heavy-breathing mate. She lays a hand on the round warmth of little Nate's bald infant head. His tiny body jumps as a final belated fart thunders forth and Ellen laughs. Peter laughs too, both of them thinking that the whole experience has been just fine.

-- from Kimberly Ford's Hump: True Tales of Sex After Kids (July 2008, St. Martin's Griffin)