6.4 million likes and over 339,000 comments less than eight hours after it was posted. That is just one of the staggering statistics you can find when Googling Beyoncé’s 2017 Instagram post announcing her second pregnancy — an image so ubiquitous you probably don’t need a search engine to conjure it up. In the photo, she sits against an abundant floral backdrop shaped like an altar, dressed in romantic lingerie of buttery blue silk and mesh mahogany, and draped in a veil of green tulle. She is clearly with child, but the thousands of times the fire emoji appears in the comments below show she is no less desirable. Whether the gushing is over Queen B herself or your cousin Tina at her baby shower, the association between a certain aura of beauty and the belly bump is universal.
However, there’s a noticeable shift when it comes to the way the postpartum body is collectively viewed. Although “viewed” may be the wrong word, as it feels more like it’s hidden — the version of the female body that society keeps locked in the attic. There are no celebrities showcasing their cesarean scars or swollen, sore nipples in lace teddies. Rather, starlets’ post-birth bodies are displayed only after enough rigorous dieting, training, surgeries.
Hollywood’s portrayals of postpartum women and the sexual disinterest they conjure within their partners also does little to raise the confidence bar. In 2018’s Tully, Charlize Theron’s character, Marlo, a postpartum mother of three, wears matronly Maidenform bras and stained sweatpants while describing her sexless marriage: “It’s like we both want dinner; we just can’t pick a restaurant or even decide if we’re hungry.” And, while at the beginning of 2025’s Die My Love, Grace and Jackson (portrayed by Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson) exhibit a sexuality so raw and primal it has them pawing at each other like mountain lions, after Grace gives birth, her advances toward Jackson become consistently and painfully rebuffed.
‘Die My Love’ • Photo: MUBI.
Already amid an environment that no longer admires or, much less so, shows your body as desirable, reclaiming your sex life can feel like a gargantuan task. Throw on top of all this physical discomfort and a seemingly endless loop of days spent feeding a newborn on three hours of sleep, and it feels totally fair to be more attracted to your pillow than your partner. As Dr. Amanda McPherson Shafton, CNM, DNP, FACNM, puts it in brief, “Your boobs are leaking. Your cooter is leaking. Everything hurts. You’re fucking exhausted.” And, should your mind be willing but unsure if your body is ready, the astonishing lack of information to be found about postpartum sex on the internet is sure to kill your buzz and send you deep into a WebMD spiral.
Throughout her career, during which she has been a passionate advocate for women’s health, midwifery, and trauma-informed care, Dr. Shafton has witnessed the daily struggles of postpartum life. And it seems to her that the way society is failing postpartum women in terms of positive representation and sexual education is indicative of the larger gap in treatment. “As a society, we’re now more focused on birth than I think we ever have been in a lot of ways … But we still don’t necessarily care for postpartum [individuals] because it would require us to talk about all of these things. Because goverment’s involved in it and childcare is involved in it and women making less money than men on average, all of that plays a role in it. And so I think that makes it hard.”
So, it’s unsurprising that, for Dr. Shafton, who serves as the National Director of Midwifery at the nation’s largest OB/GYN hospitalist provider, dispelling myths about postpartum sex is a task as regular to her as “catching babies” (a term that feels self-explanatory). “Becoming a mother is transformative in so many ways. It will affect every part of your life and your body. And so, of course, it’s going to impact sex and sexuality and your relationship with your partner or partners and what that looks like.” As an essential part of a woman’s life, sex needs to be an essential part of the postpartum conversation.
Newly minted moms are seemingly all given the same advice when it comes to resuming their regular bedroom behavior: wait six weeks. Dr. Shafton explains that this one-size-fits-all recommendation comes from holding off until the standard six-week postpartum check-up to discuss birth control options. What is more important, from a medical perspective, is that this time period should be sufficient to allow any vaginal lacerations to heal, sutures to dissolve, and bleeding to stop. While noting that some sutures may dissolve naturally before this calendar benchmark is reached, she strongly recommends that couples wait to hook up until they get that official clearance from a medical professional at their six-week appointment.
But women should approach this postpartum check-up with the same mentality they would an initial intimate encounter with a new crush: namely, don’t bet on an orgasm happening anytime soon. Depending on the birthing situation, especially for those who experience third- and fourth-degree tears, getting the green light to get it on may take far beyond the initially promised six weeks. As opposed to a set number of days, for Dr. Shafton, the better indication that the body is signaling it’s ready for sex is the cessation of vaginal bleeding. Some spotting, akin to a light period, occurring around the six-week postpartum period, is generally nothing to be concerned about. But anything heavier, such as the traumatic-sounding example of “passing blood clots the size of an egg or larger,” serves as a literal red flag to seek immediate medical attention.
Should you be out of the red and officially open for business again, there’s still one hard, biological fact you need to address before letting any eager customers through the doors. “I want people to know that you can ovulate when you’re postpartum before you have a period. I have seen folks come back to their six-week postpartum visit and they are pregnant [again].” As jaw-dropping and pressure-inducing as the back-to-back baby dilemma sounds, don’t despair just yet! Despite prejudiced attempts by ruthless and regressive politicians, the solution to this problem exists in the many forms modern-day birth control takes. Due to the risk of blood clots in the initial postpartum period, Dr. Shafton recommends a progesterone-only birth control method — especially for those who are breastfeeding, as estrogen can suppress milk production. She is a real big fan of IUDs in particular, which, these days, are so easy and convenient to get post-birth. “Within 10 minutes of delivering a placenta, we can put an IUD up if somebody has decided they want that.” Non-IUD, progesterone-only options include the Nexaplanon, which is inserted under the arm, the Depo-Provera shot, family planning, and the old mainstay: condoms. She even suggests the pull-out method, which, despite what your gym teacher taught you in health class, “has similar effectiveness rates to condoms depending on whether it’s being done correctly.”
‘Tully’ • Photo: Focus Features.
But enough with all the bleary eyes and blood eggs, as postpartum sex is neither as scary nor anxiety-inducing as the kind of horror film watched through the finger gaps of your hand-covered face. According to Dr. Shafton, there are two kinds of preconceived expectations she sees new moms seem to initially have regarding their postpartum sex life. The first type of headspace revolves around the idea that “you’re going to bounce back …get the thumbs up… your vagina’s going to be the same as it was, [and] sex should be the same as it was.” The other mindset, in contrast, latches onto the “idea [that] sex will never be as good.”
In the typical paradoxical nature of life, the reality lies somewhere in between. Considering the ways in which having a child may leave a woman physically drained and reassessing what sensations arise when being touched (i.e., breastfeeding), begin by shifting the goal of your sexual encounters from getting action to simply experiencing intimacy. “Our biggest sex organ is our brain,” Dr. Shafton reminds us, and, furthermore, “sex means a lot of different things for a lot of different people … we can start normalizing intimacy in a lot of ways that aren’t necessarily penis-in-a-vagina sex.”
Consequently, when placing the focus on intimacy over straight carnal attraction, foreplay is going to have to move front and center from wherever it was thrown back when you were ripping each other’s clothes off. And, in case you forgot, the definition of foreplay spans far beyond just the physical. “I usually recommend making it a thing,” Dr. Shafton suggests, “like planning a date, having a glass of wine … doing something that makes you feel good, whatever that thing is. And that will help.”
When it does progress to physical foreplay, Dr. Shafton has a one-word solution guaranteed to improve your postpartum sex life: lube. “I don’t understand why people don’t use lube every time they have sex,” she opines. “This sex therapist I once spoke with said the way she helps people understand the concept is to have them rub their lips together. And if you rub your lips together, you’re like, ‘Oh yeah, that’s kind of nice.’ But, then, if you lick your lips and rub your lips together, you’re like ‘Oh, it’s a little nicer.’” Due to the hormonal impacts of post-birth, postpartum women, especially those who are breastfeeding, typically struggle with vaginal dryness, making lube an important essential to have on hand (and other parts). Dr. Shafton gives her top lube seal of approval to coconut oil, which, she notes, “naturally has antifungal, antibacterial properties. It’s also oil-based [so] it stays slicker longer as opposed to water-based lubricants.” Although she makes the caveat that it might not be the best option for those who are also using condoms and sex toys in their mattress play. And she throws in a soft recommendation about holding off on using any warming, cooling, or other sensation-creating lubricants for a while.
After being wooed with a fancy meal and smelling like you’re three pina coladas deep from all that coconut oil, it might be the right time to do the deed. Yet, before you go no-brakes, full-force penetration, Dr. Shafton advises starting slowly with just one or two fingers instead. This advice, she explains, is based on the fact that the introitus, or vaginal opening, can still feel a bit tight right after the sutures in the area heal, and testing to see what is comfortable is vital. As long as you’re not bleeding, oral sex is another way to ease yourself back into the pleasure zone that is less intrusive than penetration. Certain sex toys could also serve as a soft test, although Dr. Shafton adds three ground rules: they should be silicone-based, appropriate amounts of lubricant should be applied, and toys must be washed every single time they are used. “[And] if it’s under your bed, please go and wash it again before you put it in your body.”
If or when the mood and your body both feel right for penetration, you and your partner should take a gentle approach when weaving yourselves together. Dr. Shafton marks rough sex right away as a no-go, but gives a big thumbs-up to throwing in some props: “I’m a big fan of a lot of support, like pillows for people in different places they think they need them, a little spot here, a little bump up there.” Additionally, choosing sex positions in which the postpartum woman can control the speed and depth of penetration will lead to a more comfortable experience. For the new moms who had C-sections as opposed to vaginal births, the additional factor of their recovering abdominal muscles comes into play when hooking up. Since they experienced not only giving birth but a major surgery as well, this group of postpartum women should increase the number of pillows and support they have on hand during sex. Furthermore, due to the section of their body on which the surgery occurred, the best sex positions for C-section mamas are those that have them on their hands and knees or side — hopefully, while being cushioned on a downy throne of pillows stacked by their partner.
By the time the postpartum period ends, a new mom will hopefully realize that, while life is messy, its tendency towards chaos doesn’t deprive it of its joy and pleasure. Although easier said than done, it might just be the key to unlocking a new chapter of sensuous enjoyment. And, even though part of the messiness of life lies in its ever-changing nature, women can at least rely on one thing striving to maintain some sense of consistency for them amongst the ebbs and flows: their vagina. Despite the beating it takes during the birthing process, Dr. Shafton points out that “the vagina heals quickly, which is incredible.” In fact, its recovery is so reliable that, at the postpartum check-ups she runs, Dr. Shafton often has her patients get a mirror and take a look at their perineum for themselves. “People are so afraid because it was painful; it’s been healing for so long; they had all these stitches. But I’m like, wait a minute, you’re going to be amazed. Six weeks, almost all the time, it looks totally normal.”
