When I was a few months into motherhood, my husband and I had a big fight about sex — and not for the first time. Not surprisingly, he wanted more of it, and I couldn’t get into it. I associated my breasts with breastfeeding, and when I thought of my vagina I could think only of our baby coming out of me. My erogenous zones had turned into mommy zones. This severe shift in perspective suddenly made an act I had always enjoyed feel dirty, and not in the fun way.
To make myself feel better, I started rage journaling (obviously!). During this journaling session I drew what I called my sexuality spectrum. On one end of the spectrum was “using my body to care for a baby” (acts I perceived as requiring 0.01 percent of my sexuality), and on the other end was “using my body to feel sexual pleasure” (acts I thought required 100 percent of my sexuality). I wholly believed the dichotomy of that spectrum was accurate, and it screwed up my sex life for the first year of motherhood. Living by that model meant I had to push through intense mental, physical, and emotional shifts anytime my husband wanted sex, because I’d have to get all the way from one side of the spectrum to the other.
What I failed to realize when I created that spectrum was that the act of breastfeeding and vaginally birthing a baby is a lot more sexual than I realized. After all, my sexuality is what led to me becoming pregnant, birthing consists of the same uterine contractions that happen during orgasms (hence the phenomenon of orgasmic birth), and breastfeeding causes nipple stimulation that releases oxytocin, or “the love hormone.” Some women even have orgasms while breastfeeding.
Sex and motherhood mingle a lot more than we realize. But I think that also puts a lot of women off postpartum sex. For example, I have a client who felt aroused when breastfeeding and experienced a lot of shame around that. She then developed negative connotations about anything that caused arousal because it reminded her of what she called the “wrong feeling” when she fed her baby. This caused issues when it came to sex. She used the techniques in the “What to do” section to restructure her beliefs around motherhood and sexual arousal, and eventually found her way back to enjoying sex.
Something else that can turn a new mom off is the shift in identity that she and her partner experience. Our society often paints “good parents” as virtuous, wholesome, married citizens who never curse and have sex only to procreate. Little room is left for arousal, eroticism, and orgasm. I think that’s a shame. Sexual pleasure is an innate, healthy desire — something to be explored and celebrated instead of suppressed and shamed. But that takes work, because many of us have to reprogram our beliefs on having sex as a parent before we can enjoy having sex as a parent. So how do we start that reprogramming and get to the place where we want and enjoy carnal pleasures as much as our partner does?
What to do
Don’t give up on your sex life. Just because it feels awkward now doesn’t mean you can’t transition into a passionate, deeply pleasing sexual relationship with your partner. These tips can help you start that transition:
Look at where your beliefs about sex and parenthood come from. Many times, our blocks around postpartum sex were implanted long before we became mothers. To remove these blocks, take some time to examine where they came from. You could ask yourself . . .
- What messages did my parents share about sex?
- How did my parents navigate their own sexuality?
- What messages have I received about what it means to be a good parent?
- What societal messages about sex and parenthood have impacted me?
- Do I associate aspects of sex with traits I’ve been made to feel are inappropriate for a parent to have? (For example, do you think dirty talk, oral sex, or masturbation aren’t appropriate
for a mother?)
Continue asking these questions until you have a solid idea of the forces that impacted your perception of postpartum sex. From there, you can decide what can be thrown out — for example, outdated ideas passed to you from your parents, the media, or society at large. And then, determine how you would like to perceive postpartum sex. Because that’s the thing, you have the right to create your own definition of what sex after birth looks like, and you don’t need anyone’s permission to live by that new definition. Here’s an example of a new definition, “I perceive postpartum sex as a beautiful dance between me and my partner that allows us to bond and to enjoy pleasure. Being a good parent means honoring my need for pleasure.” Here’s to a shift in perspective that fosters unfettered arousal, rolling orgasms, and a shame-free after glow!
Tell your partner how you feel. I can almost guarantee that you that unless you tell your partner what’s actually going on, you not wanting sex will make them feel rejected, like there’s something about them that’s causing you to not want sex. Fill them in on the blocks you’re having, why they’re coming up, and how you want to navigate them. If you don’t yet know how you want to navigate them, ask your partner if they’re interested in helping you in this process. If so, you can read through these suggestions together or come up with other possible solutions that suit your unique relationship. This communication can foster connection and prevent rifts or resentment that might be caused by changes to your sex life. An added bonus is your partner will probably put less pressure on you to have sex when you’re not feeling it.
Ask to lead the way during sex. When you’re first finding your bearing as a mother who is also a sexual being, ensure that sex moves at your pace by asking to set the pace. Move as fast or slow as you want. Tell your partner how you want to be touched. Let them know when you’re ready to be penetrated or intimately touched on the vagina — of if you’re not ready for that. Teach them what kind of touch on your breasts does and does not feel good. While this instruction might seem strange at first, it can help you feel empowered in your sexuality, and support you and your partner in understanding how to please this new version of you.
Take solo “warm-up” time before sex. For many women, the mind needs to be aroused before the body can get on board. So before you and your partner get frisky, slip away to the bathroom or another private space, and start thinking about things that turn you on. You can also pleasure yourself. Take your time, giving your mind and body time to warm up. Then, when your freshly aroused self is ready, go to your partner.
Bailey Gaddis Blog 