What No One Told Me About Sex After Childbirth

There are so many things people and society at large prepare you for when you're about to have a baby, like labour plans, diaper brands, sleep routines, but no one really talks about what happens after. The silent shifts, the quiet changes that reshape you.

The healing that happens behind closed doors. The way you slowly try to find your way back to yourself, not just as a mother, but as a woman, as a partner, as someone who once felt at home in her own body. After delivering my first child vaginally, I was left with third-degree tears and an episiotomy. The physical recovery was difficult, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the emotional side of healing, especially when it came to intimacy.

At my six-week postpartum checkup, my doctor gently informed me that I still wasn’t fully healed and recommended waiting another month before attempting sex or exercise. I didn’t mind. I was in no rush. Thankfully, my husband never pressured me, and our intimacy took other forms: holding hands, cuddling and sharing quiet moments when the baby finally slept. It’s something I wish more new parents were told- sex isn’t the only way to stay close. But eventually, the fear crept in.

Ready but terrified

By five months postpartum, I wanted to try having sex again, but I was terrified. I had read horror stories online and heard next to nothing positive. The few friends I confided in echoed the fear: one told me it took her four years to feel ready again. I realized how little guidance existed. Surely, women have been navigating this forever. Why weren’t we talking about it?

As a South Asian, Punjabi, to be specific, open conversations about sex are taboo. There's no roadmap. No aunties or elders explaining what to expect, how to heal, or that the fear itself is normal. The silence was deafening... and in that silence, I started to feel like a failure. Every time we tried, I’d freeze. My mind would spiral, my body would tense, and the moment would end. I felt disconnected from myself. I wanted to move forward, but I didn’t know how.

Eventually, I made a quiet promise to myself: When I get through this, I will share my story. Not just for me, but for every mother sitting in silence, feeling alone, afraid, and unsure of her own body. That breakthrough came at five months postpartum. One night, I told myself: I gave birth to an entire human! Surely, I can do this too. I focused on calming my thoughts. I reminded myself that I was safe. That night, we tried again, and to my surprise, it didn’t hurt. At all.

What had been holding me back wasn’t my body. It was my mind. I realized that fear had been creating a physical response, and my body would clench and tighten reflexively, making the experience painful. But once I allowed myself to relax, it changed everything.

My postpartum sex tips

Here are a few things that helped me, from one mom to another:

• Lubrication is essential. Especially postpartum, your hormones may cause vaginal dryness, so don’t skip this step.
• Take control. Being on top helped me control depth, pace, and intensity, which made me feel safer and more empowered.
• Time your breath. Inhale deeply, and as you exhale, allow for penetration. It helped me stay grounded.
• Stay present. Let yourself enjoy the moment instead of getting stuck in your thoughts. Mindfulness made a big difference.
• Have fun! Celebrate your body and the life it created.

Everyone’s postpartum healing journey is different. For me, the second time around—after the birth of my youngest daughter—I felt ready at eight weeks. My body healed faster, yes, but I also had the knowledge and confidence that made a world of difference.

If you’re struggling with pain, fear, or anxiety around sex after childbirth, please know this: you’re not broken, and you’re not alone. Sometimes, talking to a pelvic floor therapist can be transformational. They’re trained to support women through exactly these issues- physical, emotional, and everything in between.

Above all, I want more women to feel empowered to talk about this. To take the shame out of postpartum sexuality. To ask for help. To talk openly with their partners, and to remember that healing doesn’t look the same for everyone... and that’s okay.

If sharing my story gives even one new mom the courage to take the first step back to herself- to reclaim her body, her confidence, and her peace- then every word was worth it.