All my life, I've been a follow-the-rules type of girl. I've never smoked, cigarettes or otherwise, I've never had a traffic ticket, and I always wait an hour after eating before hopping into the pool. When I got pregnant with twins, I continued to channel my inner Hermione and do what I was supposed to. I limited my caffeine intake, avoided raw cheese entirely, and stayed away from my beloved eel rolls. I did everything a good pregnant woman should do, well, almost. Because when my OB told me I had to wait six weeks after having the babies before having sex, it turned out my libido couldn't wait that long.
Thanks to a scare with premature labor at 27 weeks pregnant, I spent the last two months of my pregnancy on strict bed rest. Sex was officially off the menu and although I missed it like Justin misses Selena, I wasn't going to do anything to risk the health of my children. But I was very, very eager to resume my regularly scheduled sex life once my boys were born. I knew that being told to wait six weeks after having a baby before resuming sexual activity was pretty standard, and I honestly thought I'd need that long to feel physically ready to enjoy sex again. In fact, before giving birth, I wasn't convinced six weeks was going to be enough time for my vagina to recover. After all, I was going to be pushing out two babies, so shouldn't I get double the time to let it heal before putting a hot dog back in my bun? Twelve weeks sounded about right.
Seeing my partner interact with our sons made him super sexy to me. My eyes saw a man cradling a tiny newborn and singing "Twinkle, Twinkle," but my brain was blaring Beyonce's "Drunk In Love." I didn't want to wait any longer to have sex.
But as it turns out, I didn't have a vaginal delivery. Although I gave it my best effort, after three grueling hours of pushing, Baby A's head wasn't able to push past my oddly shaped pelvic bone. His heart rate started to become erratic, so my OB made the call, and I was totally on board with having a c-section. The first few days after my boys were born were a chaotic mess of breast pumps, NICU visits, and trying to poop without popping a stitch. In those first few days, sex was the furthest thing from my mind. But then things changed — fast.
My husband and I found out that our boys were going to stay in the NICU for a few weeks in order to gain some weight, and I was lucky enough to feel really great after my c-section. I was a little sore, but otherwise felt like my pre-baby self, especially below the belt. We were new parents in a completely unique position: We had brand-new babies, yes, but we also had nothing preventing us from getting a full night's sleep. Plus, seeing my partner interact with our sons made him super sexy to me. My eyes saw a man cradling a tiny newborn and singing "Twinkle, Twinkle," but my brain was blaring Beyonce's "Drunk In Love." I didn't want to wait any longer to have sex.
It seemed pointless to not have sex for the sake of my well-being when I very much wanted to have sex. I wasn't in pain and it had been so long since we'd had sex that it was hard to care about the slim possibility that I could get an infection as a reason not sleep together. We started out just engaging in foreplay and non-penetrative sex, which was awesome, but you know the saying that forbidden fruit tastes sweeter? Yeah, well, turns out that's true.
Two weeks after my delivery, I went to see my OB for a post-op checkup. As he checked my incision site, I asked him how long it would be before I could work out (12 weeks) and how long before I could have sex. Since I hadn't delivered vaginally, I assumed he was going to tell me the bedroom games were OK as soon as I felt ready for them. But I was shocked when he told me I still had to wait six weeks before having sex, just as long as I would've had I had a vaginal delivery. When I asked why, he explained that it was because I had pushed for three hours and there could be small cuts at risk for infection. Six weeks would also give me time to stop bleeding completely and would make sure my cervix was completely closed. I wanted to push the issue, but since he was looking at me like I was demented for wanting to have sex so soon, I let it go. I left the appointment frustrated and went home to deliver the bad news to my partner.
We tried to keep our hands to ourselves, but it seemed pointless to not have sex for the sake of my well-being when I very much wanted to have sex. I wasn't in pain and it had been so long since we'd had sex that it was hard to care about the slim possibility that I could get an infection as a reason not sleep together. We started out just engaging in foreplay and non-penetrative sex, which was awesome, but you know the saying that forbidden fruit tastes sweeter? Yeah, well, turns out that's true. Soon enough, my husband and I were just flat-out going at it. In the end, we lasted about four-and-half weeks postpartum before doing the actual deed.
After going so long without it, the sex was amazing, like the honeymoon scenes from Breaking Dawn good. But when I went back to my OB for my six-week checkup to get the official all clear to head back into the bedroom, I was terrified. Admittedly, I've never seen the inside of my own vagina, so I'm not sure if there's graffiti on my vaginal wall that says, "PENIS WUZ HERE!" or something, but I was positive that my OB would know just by looking that I'd gone against his orders. Plus, what if I had gotten an infection? I was a brand-new mom with two tiny babies to take care of. Was a handful of orgasms really worth not waiting another week-and-a-half?
I don't know what he thought while he was exploring down there, but he clearly had no clue what I was up to between the sheets. "OK, everything looks great," he said. "You're completely healed and if you're up for it, healthy for sex."
Little did he know, I already was.