Last week I blogged about one of the hurdles moms have to overcome in the 50-year dash that is a healthy sex life. Namely, Good Mom Baggage. And while that little valise of psychological crap is not a light one (at least not in my experience), it is only one (1) piece of baggage among many.

Because, as we’ve all lamented to our partners, friends, mothers, therapists, and complete strangers at the playground, there are so many physical, emotional, hormonal, psychological, and logistical challenges to a mom’s (and pre-mom’s) sex life that, at times, it feels insurmountable.

Now, we all know—from personal experience—what these challenges are. But just to demonstrate the reality of what we’re up against here, I thought it might be helpful (masochistic?) to lay it all out in one place. They say the first step to recovery is recognizing the problem. So here, my fellow moms, is the problem: (And thanks to Absolutely Bananas’ comment on my last post for starting this list. You can add whatever I’ve missed to the comments below.)

THE MONDO LIST OF WHY MOMS *MIGHT NOT* LIKE SEX TOO:

Let’s start at the very beginning…
[Insert here any preexisting issues that the Sexual Goddess within you may have faced before becoming a mom, e.g. sexual ignorance, repression, guilt (Catholic or no), abortion, rape/molestation/assault, sexism, heterosexism, harassment, weight, body image, self esteem, being called a slut/tease/prude, STDs, inability to reach orgasm, your mother’s/ex-boyfriend’s/therapist’s voice in your head, fantasies that make you go hm, miscommunication, discomfort, fear.]

Okie-dokie. Now, let’s add in motherhood…

First, if you got pregnant easily, then you can skip ahead to the boobs section…

And if you got pregnant a little TOO easily, then figure out how to have a good sex life while preparing for this (surprise) bungle of joy, or while arranging a shotgun wedding, or while contemplating being a single mom…and then skip ahead to the boobs section…

And if you had a hard time getting pregnant, well, that’s enough to kill your sex life before the morning sickness even begins…the examinations, the urinations, the medications, the endless doctor’s visits in the middle of your workday, the shots in the butt, the semen in the cup, the side effects to every drug combo you try, the turkey baster, the IVF, the immense strain on the relationship, until:

A) you give up on kids entirely (in which case you’re not a mom and probably not reading this column), or
B) you find some other way to have kids, e.g. adopt (skip ahead to adoption section below), or
C) you FINALLY get pregnant and now you have to deal with…

…tender boobs, lactating boobs, big-as-your-big-blue-exercise-ball-boobs, cross-eyed boobs, lopsided boobs, breast-pumping boobs that make you say mooOOO, stretch-marked boobs, flabby boobs, deflated-tuck-‘em-into-your-designer-belt boobs…

…plus the additional poundage on your tummy, chest, butt, arms, hips, thighs, calves, ankles, neck, eyelids—while all the while your head-leg-armpit-etc. hairs are growing so fast and weird and (horrors!) gray, you neither have time nor funds nor balance-reach-flexibility-finesse to shampoo-style-cut-dye-shave-pluck them…

…and, of course, the vericose veins, stretch marks, leg cramps, morning-afternoon-evening sickness, lethargy, blimpedness, clothes à la muumuu, sore back, sore feet, neck crick, can’t-bend-over-to-tie-your-shoes, until…

…let’s not even get into what pushing an object the size of a HUMAN BEING through your hootie does…

…well, OK, let’s…rips, tears, stretches, stitches, tenderness, soreness, achiness, fear-of-pooping-let-alone-screwing, and, once you do either, PAIN…and if you’re a C-section gal like me, post-surgery recovery (OUCH) and scar tissue that bulges like a permanent chocolate éclair (or five) under your skin to prove it…

…and then there are the hormones and the odd tweaking of brain chemistry that makes you feel weepy, flakey, forgetful, impatient, mercurial, insecure, stupid, touchy, rageful, guilty, sentimental, crabby, hyper-fill-in-the-blank, and downright depressed…for which you may take sanity-saving drugs which, alas, have the side effect of decreasing your libido, drying up your juices (which happens from the hormones anyway), making it hard to reach the BIG O, and making you worry about how you’re ever going to go off this medication with any semblance of grace…

…and, on another tack, if instead of going the birth route, you go the adoption route, scrap all of the above in exchange for nine [insert bafflingly large number here] months (years?) filling out paperwork, checking boxes, delineating sex, age, location, health risks, congenital defects, etc etc that make you feel guilty with each tick of the box…dotting the t’s and crossing the i’s on every aspect of your relationship to ensure that yours appears to be the most perfect home for a child on the planet (meanwhile driving yourself nuts)…until you DO get promised a child…and you wait…and it falls through…and you get another child in your sights…and you wait…and you stress…and you wait…and you spend tens of thousands of dollars…until finally you bring home YOUR child that you can’t help but worry might some day be taken away due to some unforeseen red tape…

[might ANY of this have ANY effect on your sex life...?]

…plus, however you become a mom, emotions that range from loving your child SO MUCH you feel like someone has dragged your heart from your chest and pinned it precariously to your (spit-up-upon) blouse where it threatens to beat, flap, fall apart, and basically drown out every other thing (including your sex life) that you once held dear…or, on the other hand, feeling so utterly AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH with your child that you understand why the Health Dept. mails out those dreadful shaken-baby-syndrome brochures and you wonder how Anyone ever saw fit to let you be a mom…

…add to that the Good Wife Syndrome, the Good Mom Baggage, the worries about [everything], the things your partner does (or doesn’t do) as a parent/partner that absolutely flummox/horrify/infuriate you, plus the intense/intimate/vulnerable feeling of always giving-loving-giving, and the inverse and totally natural reaction to not want to be even more intense/intimate/vulnerable later on in bed…

…plus the sleepless nights, the tearful days, the sheer always-ness of constantly being needed, the poopy diapers, the whiny voice, the am-I-ruining-my-child fear that accompanies the smallest decisions, the pure exhaustion, the stretch-thin-edness, the feeling that this chaos will never end…

…oh, and whatever toll all this chaos is taking on your relationship, your career, your friendships, your sense of worth, your identity as a woman, as a sexual being, and as a once-independent adult person…

…breathe…

So, how on earth CAN Moms Like Sex Too, you ask?

Well, that’s what we’re here to figure out.

Writer and mom Janna Cawrse is writing a relationship memoir called The Motion of the Ocean: 1 Small Boat, 2 Average Lovers, and the World’s Longest Honeymoon (Touchstone Fireside, summer 2009). You can read more about relationships at her Seattle Post-Intelligencer blog Happily Even After. If you have questions or topic ideas for “Moms Like Sex Too,” email janna [at] seattlemomblogs.com.