Being a dedicated husband and father of five (ages 4–15) while running two businesses is no easy task. Building our businesses took a toll on our marriage early on. I spent a lot of time away, pouring myself into developing business relationships and creating the life I had always envisioned for my wife and family. Through it all, my beautiful wife stayed steadfast in her commitment to our marriage. Looking back, if I’d been in her shoes, I might have walked away. But she didn’t. Her loyalty showed me just how devoted she was to our relationship.
After nearly a decade, our hard work paid off, and the businesses thrived. Life was good—or so I thought. Then came a tug at my soul: Where does my wife fit into all of this? Where have I been? What have I missed? That realization hit me like a freight train and forced me to rethink my priorities. I grabbed her, hugged her, and have apologized every day since. I vowed to spend the rest of my life making up for the time I lost with her.
By then, we were knee-deep in parenting—managing kids, sports, school plays, and everything else that comes with family life. Time for us seemed almost nonexistent. For our 16th anniversary, we decided it was time to finally take a break and focus on each other. We left the kids at home and set off on an adventure. Every guy reading this is probably thinking what I was: It’s sexy time!
Having kids and a busy life can take a serious toll on your sex life, and I’m no exception. What better way to rekindle the fire than a romantic journey through England and France, capped with a few days in Paris? My wife was on board. What I didn’t expect was her twist: she planned for us to tour it D-Day style. I was ecstatic. Sex and World War II history? How could it get any better? We agreed to have sex in every city along the way, and I secretly hoped we’d even check off the “mile-high” box. Spoiler: that didn’t happen.
We arrived in London early in the morning and hit the ground running. There was no way we were wasting a minute sleeping. Our first day was incredible: we climbed to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral to watch the Changing of the Colors, explored Buckingham Palace, and visited every WWII-related site we could squeeze in. I couldn’t wait for that evening when we’d finally be alone—no kids, no distractions.
But then, as we settled into our room, I heard the words no man ever wants to hear: “We can’t have sex—I just got my period.” I was floored. It wasn’t even supposed to happen. We worked around the situation (literally) and ended up having sex in the shower anyway. And let me tell you, it was still amazing.
The next day, my wife made adjustments and we set out for more adventures. A few hours in, she whispered that she’d had an accident—she’d bled through her clothes. I was immediately concerned, but she assured me it was no big deal. Once she was sorted, we carried on. Tea was amazing, the Churchill War Rooms were incredible, and we ended the day with a nice dinner and plans to meet our tour group the next morning.
That night? Sex was just as amazing, period or not. We refused to let it ruin our trip.
You have to understand—my wife gets easily embarrassed over the smallest things. But despite how self-conscious she felt, she pushed through for the sake of our trip and our relationship. Her strength floored me.
By the third day, we were headed to Portsmouth to board a ferry across the English Channel, following the same path as the troops of D-Day. We explored Piccadilly Circus, Sword Beach, St. Mère-Église, and Caen, finally reaching Paris. But every day, her discomfort grew. She was cramping and clearly miserable, though she tried to hide it. Amazingly, intimacy brought her some relief.
On the last day of our trip, her condition hadn’t improved. We boarded the plane home, and though I was filled with gratitude for our incredible journey, I couldn’t shake the growing concern for her well-being.