Alright, Let’s Talk About Sex After Having a Baby

Alright, let’s talk about sex. Nope, this is not a clever title to attract your attention (or more spam comments). I actually want to talk about sex.

What? I’m French, after all.

Sex isn’t something I usually write much about. Not because I’m busy doing it but because even though I blog under “Zhu,” my real name is not a secret (“hi, prospective client!”) and because some of my friends, as well as—gasp!—my mom sometimes read my articles. Sex is an intimate thing, after all.

But I had Mark, I’m 31 years old and I’m married. I think it’s fair to assume I’m no longer a virgin (if I were, I could totally star in a TLC show, though).

Mark was conceived the usual way. Sperm, ovule and some late-night entertainment in Mexico or Central America. What? When we, backpackers, have a nice private room, we use it!

As soon as I learned I was pregnant, my relationship with my body changed. It wasn’t mine anymore—it was ours. On bad days, I felt invaded. On good days, I felt invested with a mission I have very little control over. Sex was the last thing in my mind. I wasn’t big but I felt huge, clumsy and awkward, like a teen girl going through puberty. It wasn’t me. I didn’t feel sexy or glowing and while I’m normally not shy (I think even my in-laws have seen me naked at some point), I was very self-conscious.

It didn’t help that my private parts were regularly poked and probed by my ob-gyn and a bunch of other healthcare professionals. They were no longer a source of pleasure but a source of potential issues and worries.

I no longer had a vagina—I had a “birth canal.” Fuck, it hurt just thinking about it.

After Mark’s birth, at my postpartum checkup, my ob-gyn told me to “take it easy” as the stitches from the tears and cuts (yep, that’s natural birth for you…) were still healing. Then she asked me if I wanted to try for a second child right away and if not, what contraceptive method I would be using.

Even though I was in the I-haven’t-slept-in-ages fog, I think I blurted out “hell, no more kids!” pretty loud. I loved Mark, we wanted a kid, and we had a baby dragon at home. Mission accomplished. I couldn’t even consider doing it again at this stage.

And by “doing it again” I mean both getting pregnant and having sex.

The cord had been cut and Mark was no longer baking inside me but I had gone from being an incubator to a milk factory. My nipples were sucked on by a very hungry and very unhappy baby multiple times a day and I had to carry him against me, in the sling, 24/7—else he would wail on top of his lung.

Again, try feeling sexy and in the mood for it between two feedings and two diaper changes. I was too focused on Mark to even think about sex. At this stage, I was craving a shower, not an orgasm.

It took a little bit of time but eventually, the pregnancy and the delivery became a distant memory. My body went back to normal, whatever “normal” is, and I no longer looked like the mother of a newborn.

My mind sill wasn’t at it, though. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. Having a decent sex life takes effort and any desire I may have felt briefly was immediately overshadowed by Mark’s needs. It’s hard to switch from mommy-mode to wild-girl mode.

And then, I’m not sure what was going through Feng’s mind, but he saw me differently too. I mean, a baby came out of me and he was there. He winced when I mentioned I was sore from the stitches. My perfect gentleman didn’t want to hurt me.

For me, sex is a physical action, of course, but it also requires the right state of mind. You have to let it go, to relax, to enjoy—that, I couldn’t do. Things that turned me on before felt “meh.” Life felt “meh.”

It took time. Like everything else. Little by little, I got in touch with my body again, let my mind wander and learn to reconnect with my feelings. It sounds like a whole load of new-age crap but it’s true.

Well, I feel like a woman again. It’s about time… to close the curtains!

Bring on the sexy lingerie!

♥ Curiosity makes for good stories.

Stories from the road and beyond.

Juliette

French by birth, Canadian by choice, nomadic by instinct. I travel, write, and get into just enough trouble to make good stories.

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