In my experience, everything about parenting is counter-intuitive. I remember being pregnant on tour with my first YA novel and trying to get through the San Francisco airport, garbage can to garbage can. I clung to the slightly sticky metal like I was hugging a pole in a hurricane, breathing hard through my nose, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass until I could make it to the next one, all the while my writing partner, Emma, stood anxiously by saying, "I think you need to eat something." I shook her off. Was she insane?
When we made it to the gate the only food option turned out to be Burger King. Emma bought me a Whopper while I contemplated suicide. She had to practically force-feed me on the plane, but within seconds I felt better. A Whopper later and my nausea was gone.
That was my first big lesson. The second came when my daughter started walking - then running - and everything became optional. Would she put her pajamas on? Would she brush her teeth? It was anybody's guess. What finally got her to the sink, while I gripped the bathtub's edge to keep from screaming - or pouring myself a shot of mouthwash? Singing badly at the top of my lungs. The last thing I felt like doing, but as soon as I made a game out of cooperation she was happy to oblige.
Time to be blunt: Sex works very similarly after children.
What's intuitive is to get as much sleep as humanly possible. What's counter-intuitive is to engage in any activity that requires any kind of output and that only pushes off sleep - even for five minutes.