Postpartum Sex

Author: Ruba Tadros

PHOTO CREDIT: RUBA TADROS

Ruba Tadros is the Creative Director of The Sex Ed and co-founder of Monolith Collective with her husband, Marshall Meier. She gave birth to her daughter in December 2019. Here, she gives us a raw and honest account of her sex life and relationship with herself postpartum. 

When it comes to early parenthood, it’s not always tummy time, naps, and feeding schedules. Sometimes it’s vomit and poop—lots of it. Or sometimes it’s laying in bed at night having overwhelming bouts of anxiety, Googling, six months postpartum, I don't want to have sex. What is wrong with me?

My sex drive went from existent, to non-existent pretty quickly. One thing I learned the hard way was that breastfeeding dries your vagina and decreases your sex drive. And I breastfed for 13 and a half months. While perhaps my case may have been a bit more severe, I do think that the pain I experienced and lack of sex drive was attributed to it.

The idea of breastfeeding being the culprit to these crazy changes wasn’t often discussed in the parenting classes or books I read. Or maybe it was and I was just too overwhelmed to notice or think “that far ahead”. When I finally did go to see my OBGYN again at 8 or 9 months, he said "Oh, it's because you're still breastfeeding. Stop breastfeeding, and you'll go back to normal." It’s a big decision to decide when to stop breastfeeding, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready, or if my daughter was ready. I didn’t realize how strong the bond would be until I experienced it. He offered me a prescription for some numbing cream, which I never filled.

I didn’t want a numb vagina. Although, it would have been really handy for the birth! Where was it then? 

I was being told that I needed to sacrifice this amazing, beautiful bond that I have with my child, giving her nourishment and comfort in order to have a sense of my sexuality back. I was being propositioned with: do you want this or do you want that? And luckily she weaned herself off right around the year mark. She made the decision, which made it a lot easier for me because I didn't want to have to take something away from her that she liked. There's plenty of time for that later. She has all of her teenage years for that.

On home life, before and after:

My husband is the thread that holds our family together, and I think this thread must be made of titanium. We've spent a lot of time together over the years building both our relationship and a business together. I would consider us a healthy balance of my crazy neurotic with his calm, logical self. Becoming parents together seemed like the natural next step in our ever evolving relationship. Even with how well we worked together, nothing can really prepare you for parenting in a pandemic with a newborn. And, even as Creative Director of The Sex Ed—with every resource and access to sex help at my fingertips—sex was the lowest priority on my mind. I knew it was going to be important though in so many ways. I just didn’t know how to go about it...

The pandemic gave us A LOT of time together—as it did for many. We refined our cooking skills and tried to give ourselves “date nights” with a special meal and a good bottle of wine, which would sometimes lead to an evening of intimacy. Recently, it had been a few months since a proper date night, and I was very much looking forward to it. The wine was poured, Bossa Nova music was playing, baby was asleep—I said to myself “The mood is set! I’ve got this!” As I’m just about to serve our carbonara dinner, we hear our little one let out a scream—cut to 15 minutes later and I’m sitting in the tub with her while she pukes everywhere. We stayed up all night camped out on the couch, watching Frozen, in between bouts of throwing up. I didn’t get to have a bite of the carbonara, let alone sex.

Overall, I had a great pregnancy—I didn't get sick at all. I enjoyed every moment of it. I was glowing and had a great appetite and things were fun, and I had an incredible sex drive. I had this new confidence that came over me that I didn't have pre-pregnancy. I loved my big belly. I loved the shape of my breasts. I just loved everything. And I was always ready to go.

During my pregnancy, we were able to form a deeper level of intimacy then we had pre-baby. Pre-baby things were great, but during pregnancy, they became exponentially better. We learned more about each other in what we liked, what we didn't. It was a really liberating experience and one that I embraced.

On postpartum recovery and the first time having sex after birth:

My birth and delivery experience was fairly traumatic. She was due on Christmas Eve, but I didn’t go into labor until 5 days later. Labor was pretty normal, but when it came to delivery, things became complicated. My daughter ended up being delivered vaginally, vacuum assisted. For those not familiar, it’s usually done when the baby is stuck in your pelvis or not in an optimal position to be pushed out of the birth canal. They place a suction cup on the top of the baby’s head while still inside you, and a force of suction pulls the baby out. Usually when this method is used, you tear a lot. But it was a necessity. She was stuck in my pelvis and all the pushing in the world couldn’t get her out. 

It was a hard, hard recovery. I had a second degree tear which means I tore through the skin and muscle of the perineum, extending deep into the vagina. The general rule of thumb is 6 weeks postpartum, you are cleared for sex. At The Sex Ed, we know this isn’t usually the case, and many are waiting or not wanting sex for way longer. When six weeks rolled around, I was terrified. Terrified because there was this societal norm that when those who deliver are “healed enough” to go right back to sex, they can do it without much preparation besides “be sure to use lube”. While there was no expectation from my husband, it was in the back of my mind. Forget nursing a crying baby every two hours—my body was physically not ready to be penetrated. I couldn’t even imagine that. I could hardly walk and I was still healing.

It was around 12-weeks postpartum that we finally tried for the first time. I was nervous. It was important to me to regain that bit of myself back, so we took our time, used lots of lubricant. Some tears were shed, and thankfully he was supportive of my emotional state, which I had no doubts about.

It was really scary, painful and emotional. I spoke to [The Sex Ed Founder] Liz about it, and at her suggestion, looked into Foria CBD lubricants and products.  That was a game changer. 100%. I don't know why we didn't use it from the beginning. There was both an arousal oil to help “ignite” things, and a lubricant. They still make regular appearances! 

Obviously a lot comes with sex, right? You get the intimacy, you get the connection and the warmth, and you feel like you're with that person. We were able to still have that without actual sex for those 12 weeks. We would snuggle up on the couch and he would often give me a massage or rub my lower back. Seeing my husband as a dad filled me up with so many emotions that I didn’t really think about sex. I was satisfied in so many other ways. I was getting that high from seeing him with our daughter, from the closeness and the bonding with her, from the breastfeeding. All of that. The oxytocin levels were high, so the need for penetrative sex was low.

On self care and personal maintenance:

During pregnancy, I was an avid waxer. I would go every four weeks, and I literally planned my waxing schedule around my due date because—why wouldn't I? I knew that, okay, if I get waxed two weeks before my due date, I'm going to be in decent shape, and it should last me a bit before I’m cleared to go back again. I was all about self-maintenance and self-care. And I've always been that way, whether it be skincare, nails, facials, waxing.

To me, when I look good—or feel I look good—I feel confident, and I feel sexy. I was looking forward to waxing again, and getting back into my self-care routine. Right around the time I was feeling ready to make that appointment, the pandemic hit. Everything was shut down. I wasn’t feeling very pretty or sexy in general, and the usual outlets for my “self-care” were all closed. My hair was falling out, my skin was going wild—I felt very disconnected from that part of me.

I wasn’t feeling sexy or like myself. I felt my vagina was this wound that needed to heal. The last thing I wanted to do was put anything in, on, or around it. I had joined a mommy group early on which was interesting. Due to the format (virtual on Zoom), it didn’t lend itself to the type of bonding or connecting with other new moms like I had hoped. And all I wanted was to talk about sex (or lack there of), but eveyone else seemed more interested in tummy time and nap schedules. I wanted to know I wasn’t alone in feeling so detached from that part of me. I always felt like I owned my sexuality, and embraced it and loved it, and was open about it. Suddenly it was as if that part of me was hidden or lost.

While I certainly missed it, the need to feel beautiful or sexy was low on the priority list. And during that time, I was able to re-find myself and what mattered most to me without all the “self-care” layers I thought I needed to be desired, wanted, or to be sexy. Don’t get me wrong, I still love a good nighttime routine, a silk two piece, and a robe.

PHOTO CREDIT: RUBA TADROS

On her sex life now:

Our sex life has definitely changed, and I would say it’s changed for the better. Does that mean we’re having more or better sex? Not necessarily. But being in this position together, it's shown me a side of him that I didn't know before, that I love madly. He's such a zaddy.

I think that now, a year and some months later, we’ve found a pretty healthy balance of making sure we have time for ourselves. I read this book called Bringing Up Bébé, about the Parisian French way of raising children, which I absolutely loved. We try to adopt a lot of those parenting techniques. One of these teachings we’ve adopted is “evenings are for adults.” I put the baby to sleep, I clear the room, my space, the living room. We hide the toys, put them away to take ownership of your environment again. She’d be asleep, the toys were away, and we were feeling like ourselves again….for the most part.

The first year of parenting has been an interesting one. It’s beautiful, it’s painful, it’s messy. It’s something that despite all the preparing for, and access to amazing resources through The Sex Ed, that I have had to learn and figure out on my own terms. I often wished there was more open discussion between moms on postpartum sex, and the emotional and physical baggage it comes with. To perhaps have a group or support system in place where it’s not just about the baby, but my needs too. We are continuing to learn what works for us. And while it’s hard to fully switch from “mama mode” to “sexy mode,” I am certainly trying.