I’m notoriously bad with dates. Important events like Thanksgiving being on the fourth Thursday of November and New Year’s Day following Christmas just a week later are lost on me. Those who can recall when Harvest Moons or Daylight Saving Time occurs must either be calendar aficionados or descendants of Nostradamus. If not for my phone’s reminders, I’d likely miss birthdays, anniversaries, or even Oprah’s giveaways. However, there is one date that is permanently etched in my mind after three pregnancies in three consecutive years: the six-week postpartum checkup.
This is the appointment where your OB-GYN, armed with a bright light and some rather intrusive tools, examines your body while casually asking about your latest descent into the abyss of sleep deprivation. Just as you’re contemplating asking for a prescription for Infant Tylenol PM, the doctor delivers the one sentence you are entirely unprepared for, despite what her speculum may reveal:
“You can start having sex again.”
Right then and there, your “Gone Fishin’” sign is yanked off your vagina. It feels as if a cosmic event has occurred. If this is your first baby, your partner is probably standing beside you, grinning like he just won the lottery. But that smile quickly dims as he witnesses your dramatic journey through The Five Stages of Grief, all while your knees are still glued together.
- Denial: “You must have the wrong file. I just delivered a baby; see her? She came out of me like a tiny Trojan Horse. Are you sure you’re a real doctor?”
- Anger: “Why did I come here? I was told by a colleague I’d be getting happy pills today, not being told to engage in sexual activities with… (subtle nod toward partner). And I’d like my underwear back, please.”
- Bargaining: “Okay, maybe I overreacted. How about this: you remove a few of those stitches, and I’ll send all my friends with yeast infections your way. Deal?”
- Depression: Words fail you as you realize that the only moments for a shower or a brief social media check-in have been snatched away.
- Acceptance: You slowly nod, shifting your gaze from the doctor to the baby and then to your partner, recognizing that they are all conspiring to obliterate your personal anatomy and your TV watching schedule.
As you leave the office, still likely wearing those oversized hospital maxi pads, you feel like a “Dead Vagina Walking.” Meanwhile, your partner seems to bounce out, humming something by Marvin Gaye.
And this is when the reality of the calendar hits you again. Whatever day this six-week postpartum appointment lands on—be it a Tuesday in May or a Friday in December—will forever be marked as the day your old self died. Your loved ones will solemnly reflect on your struggles with sleepless nights, questionable hygiene, elastic pants, and a diet of snack-sized cereal. They’ll lament that your doctor deemed you ready for both exercise and intimacy, and it’s just too much to process.
Indeed, it is overwhelming. A nurse once cautioned me about this six-week window, highlighting the colic that often strikes newborns, the shadows of postpartum depression, and the unfortunate timing of dwindling support from friends and family. Adding to that pressure is your partner’s longing gaze. You appreciate that he sees beyond the changes in your body, but it’s hard to reconcile those feelings with the reality of your current state. Hormones have hijacked your body, nursing has rendered your erogenous zones virtually non-existent, and the idea of lying in a dark room without dozing off seems impossible.
Yet, if you keep citing “funky stuff you don’t want to know about down there” as your reason for intimacy avoidance, your partner may start feeling like a neglected puppy. He might even question if you’re considering a vow of celibacy in a convent. Deep down, you understand that reconnecting might help you feel like your former self, and that you’ve survived pregnancy and childbirth without incident; surely, there’s hope for the same in your intimate life. After all, isn’t marriage about compromise?
But let’s be honest; those sweatpants aren’t coming off anytime soon.
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Summary
The six-week postpartum checkup can feel like a daunting milestone as new mothers navigate the complexities of returning to intimacy and the emotional rollercoaster that follows childbirth. The overwhelming sense of loss of one’s former self, coupled with hormonal changes and the pressures of new motherhood, can make this time particularly challenging. Addressing these feelings with humor and honesty can help in the journey back to intimacy.