Sex after having a baby is rarely talked about but it's something every mom deserves to feel seen and supported in. Whether you're dealing with pain, low desire, or simply wondering when you'll feel like yourself again, you're not alone. We asked real moms from the Smile Makers Collection community to share what sex as a mom has really been like: the messy bits, the quiet joys, and the surprising ways intimacy can evolve after birth. Their stories are raw, relatable, and full of insight, for wherever you are on your own journey back to pleasure.
Sex as a mom stories.
Losing – and relearning – desire.
Many moms experience a drop in libido after giving birth. but it’s not just hormones. Shifting identity, exhaustion, and emotional overwhelm all play a role in how desire changes after a baby.
By Clara Vale.
I used to know my body. I knew how to touch it, how to ask for what I needed. My partner and I had once carved hours out of thin air to be close. Sex had been tender, rough, slow, frantic—whatever we felt like that night. Desire was effortless. We made love on Sundays. We made love on Tuesdays. Sometimes we didn’t even bother making it to the bedroom. Then I became a mother.
Nobody told me what it would really feel like. The brochures and the blogs and the baby apps talked about sleep deprivation and stretch marks. They didn’t mention how foreign your own skin would feel, or how nursing and cluster feeding would turn your breasts into vessels of exhaustion rather than pleasure. They didn’t say how even the idea of being touched would sometimes make my throat close up with resentment and fatigue.
In those early months, my body belonged to everyone but me. The baby needed milk. The baby needed warmth. My partner needed reassurance. My mother needed photos. I became a caretaker in every sense, but stopped caring for myself. Sex? That became a distant, blurry concept—something I knew I should want, but couldn't bring myself to reach for. When we tried, the first time, I cried. Not because it hurt physically (though it did—the dryness, the tenderness, the way my body tensed up involuntarily), but because I felt like I was betraying myself. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know if I would ever be ready again. My partner pulled back, apologizing a thousand times. He tried to understand, but even his patience felt heavy on my shoulders. The silence after that night stretched on for weeks. He didn't know how to ask. I didn't know how to say "I'm afraid I'm broken."
Months passed. The baby grew. I started finding myself again in tiny, defiant ways—painting my nails, reading in the bath, closing the door just to be alone. Slowly, desire stirred, confused and shy. It didn't come back like a flood. It came back like a whisper.
When we finally tried again, it was different. I asked him to go slow. I asked him to kiss me like he used to. I asked him to listen. And he did. We laughed when it felt awkward. We paused when I needed to. I cried again, but this time, it was because I realized I could still feel. Sex after motherhood is different. Not lesser, not ruined—just layered. Sometimes, it feels like work. Sometimes, it feels like reclaiming stolen ground. Sometimes, miraculously, it feels as easy and wild as it once did.
Sex after motherhood is different. Not lesser, not ruined—just layered.
But now I know this: desire changes, but it doesn't vanish. You just have to meet it where it lives now—somewhere between bedtime stories, spilled milk, and the quiet moments when you remember you are still a woman, too.
Fear, pain, and healing.
Painful sex after childbirth is more common than many realize, especially for those recovering from tearing, trauma, or feeling emotionally unready. For many, the fear of pain can linger long after physical wounds have healed. It’s also worth remembering that sex doesn't have to mean penetration. New moms and their partners can (and should!) explore other ways of being intimate; gentle touch, outer stimulation, mutual massage, or simply undressing without pressure. There’s no need to rush into penetrative sex just to feel "back to normal." Pleasure can look different now, and that's okay.
By Byzantine.
Just the idea of sex after a vaginal birth (with a third-degree tear) was awful. I knew I wanted to want it but I just couldn't imagine it ever again after the trauma of birth. Four months later I went on holiday with my daughter earlier than my husband could join us. After two weeks away from him I was so happy to see him and was reminded of our sexual connection away from being parents. Our first time after birth hurt, it felt different, I was worried what my husband would think. Would he think I was 'loose' and, honestly, I couldn't give myself fully to the experience but it was lovely to feel connected on that level again. For me it's taken two years for me to genuinely re-enjoy sex again but now it's so much fun again!
Painful at the start but it feels better than pre-baby sex! By Anon.
By EAB.
The first time after birth was the most horrific experience of my life! I had a very complex birth and the fear of sex along with agonizing shooting pains was just horrific! I don’t know who to talk to or where to turn so 9 months after the first attempt it still hasn’t happened 😩
Body image and intimacy.
It’s hard to feel sexy in a body you don’t recognize. Postpartum changes can shake self-confidence, but healing often begins with learning to see your body with compassion – and taking the time to reconnect with yourself
By MumofTwo.
It took me almost 6 months to even be able to be alone and naked... I really did not like how my body had changed and didn’t feel comfortable at all. Once I finally had sex with my partner, it wasn’t pleasant unfortunately. Possibly due to my own insecurities, but the positive part is that I did reconnect with me sexuality eventually. It took time to learn to love my body after trying my babies but I did!
Pressure, trauma, and reclaiming agency.
From six-week check-ups to partner expectations, moms are often pressured to "bounce back" - physically and sexually. These words reflect the hidden weight of those expectations, and how some are slowly shedding them.
By J.D.Anon.
"We'll see you for the next one!" the midwife said cheerily as I waddled out of the delivery ward, wincing with every step. What, next one? How am I ever going to do that again? Hang on, how am I ever going to have sex again?
Rewind. We were extremely lucky to conceive in a very short amount of time. And we had fun trying But after we found out we were pregnant, my libido went out the door. I was really unwell, and when I got to about 19 weeks, I started to feel a bit better. But by then I had a bump, and for me it just felt a bit unsexy. And honestly uncomfortable. And then the baby came.
After 2 weeks of contractions, a week in hospital being induced, every type of sweep, medication, intervention, baby came. And I felt like a failure. After syntocinon, epidural, episiotomy, ventouse, stitches... baby came. So, when I was waved out the hospital to the tune of "see you for the next one!" I was almost sick. How could I ever begin to think of sex?
How could I ever begin to think of sex?
But I eventually did. But not after the 'magical' six weeks. No way did I want to be touched, by anyone. 16 months later, I still feel tired out by the end of the day. But I felt a silent pressure, a feeling that by 13 weeks postpartum, I should be ready. I felt more that I wanted to do it for my husband. Maybe that was the wrong reason. 'Do you want to try?' I asked sheepishly after some fumbling around. 'Only if you want to.' He is really the loveliest. So, we did. I was scared. 'Did I feel the same?' I asked afterwards. 'Did it feel different? Would you know I've had a baby come out of me?’ I asked, feverishly. I was nervous. Nervous it would hurt. That I wouldn't be able to get him to climax. That I would *dread* make that horrible noise when there is air trapped up there. But it was fine. I was tentative, but it was fine. Like most things, I built it up, so big that I couldn't really not be worried about it. But I did it. And it felt like I had got the first time out of the way.
I feel like women grow up thinking that at this magical six-week mark, you'll feel healed, physically and mentally, from your birth experience, that you'll be gagging for it. That your husband will be ready to run off with the next person he sees if you don't give it to him. Just as we grow up being told that our period is 'blow job week'. When in reality, we had hardly sex the whole time I was pregnant. And I am still feeling a lot of trauma from my birth experience. That I gave my body to breastfeeding for 14 months, and pregnancy for 9 months, and a baby was literally ripped out of me.
So why do we feel like we are meant to be ready for something so intimate, in as little as 6 weeks? Some people might be. But the more women I speak to about it, the more feel the same as I do. Which makes me feel less alone. I didn't feel empowered by being pregnant, or giving birth, or breastfeeding. But maybe we need to adjust expectations, so we are not setting women up to feel as they have failed. Then maybe they can feel empowered to know when they are ready, and when they do all of the above, and feel good as hell doing it.
There’s no universal timeline, and no one can tell you when you’re “ready.” That power belongs to you. Masturbation can be a powerful way for new moms to reconnect with their bodies, explore what feels good now, and ease back into pleasure without pressure. Getting back to sex after baby doesn’t have to start with a partner—it can begin with you. In the chaos of caretaking, it’s easy to put your own needs last. But your pleasure matters too.
Conclusion: There’s no right way to come back to sex after baby.
Sex after baby isn't one-size-fits-all. For some, it's awkward but fine. For others, it's painful, emotional, or completely off the table for a while. And for many, it slowly becomes something new—less spontaneous maybe, but often more intentional, more honest, and more connected.
These stories don’t offer a how-to or a fixed timeline. They offer something better: proof that whatever you're feeling, you're not alone. Sex as a mom can look different, and it can still be beautiful, messy, joyful, and real. Pleasure may change, but it’s still yours to claim.
Want more support? Explore our motherhood guide, vibrator designed by moms, and expert advice to help you on your journey through sex and motherhood.
Thank you to everyone who shared their stories ❤️
