Let’s talk about sex.
Don’t worry. I’m not going to share any details that will make anyone uncomfortable or have to avoid eye contact with me. Because this is about sex once you have a child.
Good luck!
Okay, that’s it.
I’m kidding! Of course sex still happens. It’s just different. And from my experience, it comes in stages. Haha. See what happened there? Every relationship varies, and things like postpartum depression and C-sections and tearing, (who’s feeling sexy now, folks?) can affect everything. But I’ve taken a quick straw poll of other moms I know, and most agree with this rough timeline, post-childbirth.
STAGE ONE: Zero to four months.
GET OUT. No fuckin’ way are you putting that thing in the scene of the crime. We are still healing. Yes, I said “we” because your vagina develops a personality of its own when you give birth. You are not only more aware of its constant, awe-inspiring presence, you would not want to meet it in a dark alley on the wrong night.
When our daughter was a newborn, my husband and I joined PEPS, the early parent support group. If you’re not familiar, PEPS is this awesome and validating place where you meet with new parents once a week to swap sleep deprivation stories and compare gashes from your baby’s precious, tiny, switch-blade fingernails. About three meetings in, someone (a husband, surprise!) brought up the topic of when the “appropriate” time to start having sex again was. He stated, matter-of-factly, that “Our doctor said five weeks! So…” As if it were really just a precaution. Like how you should wait an hour after eating before you to jump into the deep end. I mean, if the doc gave the green light, then what are you waiting for!?! All of the couples were nearing the five-week mark, and as his wife glared a baby-sized hole into him, the rest of us laughed that quiet, knowing laugh when you feel sorry for someone who’s about to experience at least six more months of celibacy.
STAGE TWO: Around five months.
You’re getting into a schedule, you’ve had the opportunity to shower once or twice, and you might even be having sexy-times feelings again. But if you breastfeed, then you’re also dealing with a tiny, adorable potato sucking you dry several times a day and night. And regardless of whether you go with breast, bottle or both, you’ve still got a 24-hour cycle of said potato burping up, pooping and peeing on you. So introducing another human who also needs your physical contact, unless it’s timed as perfectly as a rocket launch with your hormones and the lack of the potato’s bodily fluids on you, can go awry.
STAGE THREE: Six months to a year.
You’re starting to get your body back! You vaguely remember what sleeping is like! The idea seems somewhat positive that you could engage in consensual adult…sleeping. No! Not sleeping! Wake up! Cause it’s time for intentional contact of your bathing suit areas! And this is when you discover a new and exciting type of getting it on. It’s called Silent Movie Sex. Because whether your baby’s crib is in your room or theirs, satisfying your carnal desires is nothing compared to time alone. And you do not want to do anything that might disturb your miraculous, perfect, beautiful, sleeping time bomb. So sex must be performed with the careful, deliberate movements of a burglar avoiding laser tripwires. This includes no squeaking of mattresses, no banging of headboards, no rustling of sheets and no audible breathing. So you’re basically like two mimes, laying on top of each other.
STAGE FOUR: Two to three years.
Once your baby starts sleeping better and/or can entertain themselves if they wake up, comes (ha, there it is again) the carefree stage. You’re not as worried about making noise, and your little one is still unaware enough that even if you screamed “Nail me, baby!” during 5-6 minutes of major pounding, your kid would just think you were playing Bob the Builder.
STAGE FIVE: Four to five years.
At this point you start being more careful again because your child is gaining an awareness of the world and, more importantly, they can go to daycare or kindergarten and repeat the phrase “Nail me, baby.” Or, during story time, they might decide to share an exciting recount of how Mommy and Daddy like to wrestle naked sometimes.
STAGE SIX: Seven years and up.
Once your kids partially or fully understand how babies are made, and you also remember how much you wanted to loofah your brain as a child when you realized your parents actually did it, you’re back to mime sex. So again, you find yourself flipping the mattress, tightening the bolts of the bed frame, and if you’re lucky, counting down the minutes till the kids spend the night somewhere. Or, you go away to a hotel together. Alone. And I specify hotel, because you do not want a B&B. If you go to a B&B, you’re going to be in the same situation as if you’re at home or in the guest bed at your in-laws. Because in the morning, you’ll have to go downstairs, make eye contact and share strawberry preserves and breakfast breads with the people who spent the night on the other side of the wall you were banging up against for a solid 45 minutes. Did I say 45? Sorry, that was a typo. I meant four to five minutes. Cause let’s be real. That bed is super comfy and it’s so, so quiet. Plus, you had wine with dinner.
STAGE SEVEN: Empty nesters.
Crazytown! At this point, the kids are grown and off to college and you have the house back to yourself! It’s like pre-kids, only with more wrinkles, less flexibility, and a everything smells like Icy Hot. You can do it anytime! At any volume! Anywhere from the laundry room to the foyer! Unless you’re expecting a delivery and you checked that box where they can let themselves inside your front door to leave a package. Then don’t choose the foyer. Amazon doesn’t pay those people enough for that.
BONUS! STAGE EIGHT: Quarantine.
Know that phrase “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”? The lesser-known corollary is “Quarantine makes the libido go yonder.”
You’ve spent 37 hours a day with your family for eight weeks. Stretchy pants and old, company retreat t-shirts are the norm. Neither you nor your spouse is on a regular shower schedule and there’s a chance you’ve cut and/or colored each other’s hair. Locks on the doors are a joke because your younger kids are as desperate for social interaction as you are for six seconds of alone time. College kids have moved back home, and if you’re really lucky, there’s an in-law or two in the guest bedroom to really heat things up. Add in the fact that you and your spouse have witnessed each other playing the role of employee, boss, line cook, housecleaner, coach, doomsday prepper, pessimistic recluse, manic optimist, realistic therapist, unwilling patient and shitty homeschool teacher. And for the final blow, nose hair trimming, if it happens at all, happens with the door wide open. In other words, there is no privacy. There is no separation. There is no mystery anymore.
So any sex that’s happening is likely a sleepy accident through a hole in your worn-out pajama pants. I genuinely hope you wake up to enjoy it and that it’s also dark because, nose hair. And if you make a baby, congratulations! That’s beautiful and miraculous and the kind of good news the world needs right now.
Please refer to Stages One through Seven above, as needed.