10 Reasons Postpartum Sex Isn’t Happening – Scary Mommy

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10 Reasons Postpartum Sex Isn’t Happening

1. I don’t fucking FEEL like it. I mean, I want to… but I don’t feel like it. You know how sometimes you’re hungry and feel like you’re starving to DEATH, but then nothing really sounds good to eat? It’s kinda like that. I love you, and I want to sex you up, but my brain and my body are not exactly sparking on the same wavelength right now.

2. My boobs are sore. And I just got done feeding our kid out of them, so there’s that, too. But mostly, they’re sore and I don’t want them touched any more today. Maybe ever… But at least not right now.

3. One or both of us smells like baby vomit. And I might have spit up in my hair. Who can tell anymore? It might just be on the pillowcase, but regardless, it’s not the most romantic aroma.

4. When I asked for a back rub, I actually meant that my back is KILLING me and I’d like a massage. That was not code for “Please grope me and squeeze my ass.” If I could get just a little affection without being mauled, that would be great, thanks. I’m still a little tender in places.

5. There may or may not be a jungle growing downstairs and I don’t think you want to go there. Let’s just say I haven’t seen a tub of wax or a razor blade since before I went into the hospital.

6. The crying is about as sexy as a limp dishrag. Who wants to get busy with all this crying and snot happening every other 30 minutes? Oh no, not the baby. I meant ME. My after-baby hormones are pure insanity. Tears do not make a good lubricant.

7. I feel fat and mushy. No, I don’t mean I emotionally feel like I look fat and mushy. I mean I physically AM fat and mushy. I’m jigglier than a bowl of your grandma’s jello surprise right now.

8. Who’s idea was it to put the baby’s bassinet in OUR bedroom? I don’t know how anyone ever gets to kid #2 before kid #1 moves into their own room. I cannot even fathom trying to concentrate on having a good time while baby snores drift across the same room. Not. Gonna. Happen.

9. I’ve been on solitary diaper duty for the last 96 hours. Don’t make me start a star chart. Resentment is not an aphrodisiac.

10. I don’t want our children born 10 months apart, thank you very much. Can you blame me?

Related post: Dead Vagina Walking

Love Barnett is a work-from-home mom of too many kids to count, world's okayest wife, lover of profanity, and emphatic wielder of the "Because I said so" card. You can find her unbridled perspective into the world of beer, babies, beauty, and baubles on her Facebook page, follow her on Twitter, or if you're feeling adventurous (or bored) you can check out her much-neglected blog Momma Said NO.