Won’t You Take Me To Funkytown?

First and foremost let me just say that the comments on my last post helped me IMMENSELY.  Everyone who took the time to read and comment really helped boost my spirits and make me believe I can go back to work and not hang myself.  You all rock!   We even were able to hire our part time babysitter yesterday, so with her and the help of mine and Eric’s family I’m feeling really confident. Thank you, thank you!
Now, I said since the beginning that this would be a place where I could share my feelings and experiences in motherhood honestly and openly. That being said, family members who read this, perhaps you don’t want to read this post. You all know that I have a baby so you’re all aware that I took  part in S-E-X, but sex after baby is entirely a different story. If you’re a mom you’ll probably appreciate this. If you’re my mom you probably won’t. Onward!
There’s a reason the doctor says to wait 6-8 weeks after having a baby to partake in relations. The reason being is because you either just shot a human being out of your vagina or you were basically cut in half to deliver. I don’t know who would want to jump back into the sack after this, or who even has the ENERGY to do it. After spending an entire day on little to no sleep, changing poop diapers and feeding a human piranha, I can’t imagine anyone is looking at their husbands and begging for it. If you were then please tell me what drugs you were on.  I did not jump back in the sack until 10 weeks after I had Charlotte and it was as awkward as one would expect it to be. Baby in the room, body still not back to normal and breastfeeding problems lead to some awkward bedroom times.  And I wasn’t expecting it to hurt either.  Nobody can get in the mood when all you hear is OW OW OW OW and you are convinced you’re bleeding out onto the sheets.  After that I decided that Charlotte would be an only child because I would never have sex again.  I swear to all of you, my libido was so depleted that the entire cast of Magic Mike could be in my bedroom waving their junk in my face and I would ask them to quiet down and tuck me in to bed.  Perhaps this is not the case for everyone. Perhaps some of you were gung ho about funky times after baby. I bless you and I bless your lady bits.  I bless your husbands too. Lucky bitches.
I mean I know things get better eventually because most people have more children, and you have to have sex to have children.  I can’t imagine second and third children are conceived with the woman screaming WHY IS THIS HURTING GET OFF OF ME. In fact, things are turning around in the Schwartz household for the better, and now I can say that I would probably appreciate the cast of Magic Mike in my bedroom. To cuddle.