I don't even like Coldplay...

...but their songs have a strange ability to make me cry just at the moment.

I was listening to the radio today and that track - I didn't even know its name - with the lyrics "Tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace" had tears, well, streaming down my face like a loony in the car.

I've since looked up the song - it's called 'Fix You' - and the lyrics are rather pertinent:

"When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?"

The lyrics didn't put me in mind of my lack of baby, as most songs-that-make-me-cry do. No, in fact this one got me thinking about what has happened to hubby and me.

Although we still love each other - fiercely, I think - our sex life is shot to shit. And it's mostly my fault. Sex has become such a frustrating reminder of the bits of me that don't work as they should that I wonder how I'll ever get back the passion I used to have. I can't imagine going back to having non-baby sex - of doing it just for the sheer fun of it.

I was musing on this last night as I lay simultaneously trying to fall asleep and retain sperm. I had a migraine yesterday evening. We decided, after some discussion of why this might be, that it would be worth doing the deed just in case the reason for the migraine was ovulation. Neither of us wanted to bother, so it was a valiant effort. The phrase I would use to describe the expression on both our faces as we battled on is "grim determination".

Afterwards, I lay there remembering the time we had it off on the kitchen table in hubby's (shared - how gross were we?!) student flat because we couldn't get upstairs fast enough. This 9 1/2 weeks-esque vignette is a far cry from the routine now. Hubby at least still tries, and all I - the ungrateful, embittered bitch that I am - can feel is irritation with him for bothering with foreplay when, really, what's the point?

The last time I recall us having good, relaxed sex was on holiday in Corfu in July 2006. We'd only been trying for three months, so it was early enough that neither of us were scared yet. We had that gorgeous, drowsy mentality of being on holiday, where the routine goes: wake up, have sex, have breakfast, sunbathe, read, swim, have lunch, have sex, snooze, have drinks, have dinner, have moonlit walk, have sex. And, crucially, we had no fucking idea what lay ahead of us.

The closest we get to "holiday sex" these days is that the night moisturiser I'm currently using smells a lot like aftersun. The other night, afterwards, hubby told me I smelled like summer.

I feel so bad sometimes - when he signed up for better or for worse, I don't think he ever imagined this.