When “Sexy” and “Mom/Dad” Collide: Reclaiming the Self in the Midst of Parenthood
Sometimes we don’t even realize it, but somewhere between the night feedings and the “Can I have a snack?” asks, the laundry piles, dishes, playground visits, and school drop offs, something goes missing. YOU.
Not the intuitive you, or organized you, that can spot the real tears from the trickster ones, who can slide their hand right in front of that tables corner edge before your little one smacks its head, or even the one who can find the rogue toy hot wheel in 60 seconds. We’re talking about the other you. The one who likes to send flirty glances people's way, and wore their favorite perfume or cologne fresh out the shower to just go sit on the couch. The you who enjoys moving their body for pleasure, not just to pivot from diaper to dinner duty.
It’s sort of diabolical, right? How quickly becoming a “Mom” or “Dad” can feel like its replaced “Lover,” “Seductress,” “Freaky Lil Secret,” or “Soft and Sensual.” You know, all those empowering thoughts you had about yourself and the type of sexual being you are.
But let’s be real — those parts don’t vanish. They go underground. They get wrapped in muslin cloth and tucked beneath the burp cloths and store runs. They don’t die. They hibernate. And now it's time to gently call them back.
The Myth of Mutual Exclusivity
A terrible schema that is often absorbed — especially in patriarchal, purity culture-laced parenting paradigms — is this notion that you can’t be both a parent and a sexual being. The world tells us that these two identities are in opposition. That to be “good” at one, it’s probably best to exile the other. The truth? Being a sexual being is always within you. Maybe your sexuality is a bit spent, sleepy, shy, uncomfortable even. Or, honestly, a tad pissed off about the longevity since your last check in. But it’s there, waiting. It doesn’t need to look or even feel like how it did before. Truth be told, it probably shouldn’t.
When we enter the postpartum and post-parenthood sexuality era, it is not about bouncing back. For moms, its the same conversation you’re likely to hear when it comes to reconnecting with your body. Slow, steady grace, that helps you connect with a new version of you. This era is about becoming. Becoming someone who knows their body in a new way. This new sexual being wants to be seen, touched, loved — not in spite of the stretch marks or late-night exhaustion, but because of all the stories they hold. Are you going to listen?
Reigniting Intimacy with Your Partner After Kids (Without Forcing the Spark)
So, what's the reality? How can you get back to it? Guess that you know intimacy post-kids cannot always be rose petals and long, slow make outs. When these options aren't immediately available, there's many other things you can try or do. Sometimes reigniting intimacy is about touching toes under the covers or sending flirty text while your partner is wiping applesauce off the wall.
Spontaneously engaging in intimacy postpartum is good, and sometimes people feel it seems to be the only way. So, lean into those moments when your partner slides their hand under your shirt and surprises you. Even if the moment passes quickly, 2 minutes is enough to localize intimacy between you.
Desire after parenting often does take more intentionality though, rather than spontaneity — and that’s okay. It’s not less romantic; it’s just different. Tweaked a bit. Consider starting small. Create moments that invite connection, not pressure. Maybe it’s a weekly check-in after bedtime where you talk about something other than the kids. Maybe it’s a slow dance in the kitchen. Maybe it’s just lying together, touching without expectation. The goal isn’t to recreate the “before,” but to co-create the “now.” You’re both different — wiser, more tired, maybe even sexier in ways you haven’t fully discovered yet. Give yourselves permission to explore what intimacy looks like now, with grace, humor, and curiosity. You’re not trying to get back to who you were — you’re learning to fall in love with who you are becoming. Together.
Creative Reconnection: An Art Directive for Your Sexy Self
You don’t need a babysitter or a five-star hotel to reconnect with your sexual identity. You just need a few quiet minutes (nap time, maybe?) and a willingness to show up for yourself.
Here’s a simple art directive to get started:
“I Remember Me” – Reclaiming the Sensual Self
● Grab a blank piece of paper and some basic art materials (crayons, pens, markers, watercolors — anything goes).
● Close your eyes. Breathe. Let yourself remember a time when you felt most alive in your body — sexy, desired, powerful, free.
● Then, without worrying about what it “should” look like, draw or collage a representation of that version of you. It can be abstract or literal. Just let your hands speak without judgment.
● On the back, write one sentence that starts with: “I still carry this part of me when…” (e.g. “I still carry this part of me when I dance in the kitchen,” “when I wear red lipstick,” “when I say no to things that drain me.”)
Let this be a soft remembering. A reclaiming. A way to say: “Hey babe, I didn’t forget you. I’m still here.”
Journaling Prompts for the Tired, Tender, Still-Sexy Parent
These prompts are your permission slip to explore without shame. Light a candle. Sit in your car for 10 extra minutes. Do what you can. You don’t need a whole hour — you just need a pocket of honesty.
1. When did I last feel sexy, and what made me feel that way?
2. What messages did I receive growing up about being a parent and being sexual?
3. What parts of my body do I want to reclaim as mine again — not for anyone else, but for me?
4. How do I want to feel in my body this season? What might help me feel that way?
5. If my sexual self wrote me a letter, what would it say?
Here’s the truth, love: you don’t need to choose. You don’t stop being a lover when you become a parent. Your capacity for pleasure, connection, sensuality — it evolves. But it’s still yours. So, here's your gentle invitation: Take five minutes. Touch base. Make art. Get curious. Light the candle. Wear the lingerie under your sweatpants. Or don't —maybe just notice that you're allowed to want more than sleep (even if you still desperately need it). You're not gone. You're just shifting. And sexy doesn't disappear — it transforms.