Three weeks post-partum. I still feel pain in my crotch. My back still feels like someone beat it with a bat. I’m tired down to my bones. I can still feel the stitches. I can’t pee like a normal person. And don’t even think I can poop. Pooping is beyond me. I have to take a laxative/stool softener if I even want to go there. And nobody warns you that the bleeding will last this long. Girls, I'm here to tell you, the bleeding is amazing.
Everyone keeps telling me to relax, to rest when the baby rests, to not worry about the state of my home and the long list of things that I need to do. But that’s not me. I’ve never been a relaxer. And I’m lucky if I can sleep at night when the baby is sleeping. Every little peep she makes wakes me up.
The state of my body is a different story. I’ve lost a good 45 pounds of pregnancy weight. That’s right, I said FORTY FIVE POUNDS. And you know what? I still have a lot to go. Too bad I didn’t crave low fat frozen yogurt instead of all that ice cream. But my body is in sad shape. I somewhat resemble a deflated balloon, at least in my stomach area. My boobs though, they resemble over inflated balloons. They’re really quite scary, and they hurt with the rest of me.
My feet are practically back to normal. Some of my shoes are still a bit tight, but with any luck I’ll fit back into them. My hands aren’t quite there yet. My wedding ring still doesn’t fit. But it’s amazing to look at my feet, hands, and wrists. They’re so skinny looking it’s like they belong to a stranger.
The other day I had my first outing without Lyric. My mom took me to the mall to do some Christmas shopping. It was miserable. Not because I was away from the baby or worrying that Ryan was going to go beserk because she wouldn’t stop crying or wouldn’t eat from the bottle (which are two things she excels at), but because my mom kept insisting that I try on clothes. She wanted so bad to buy me something, but nothing fits me. The problem is the inner tube that currently resides around my mid-section. To top it off, I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, because my beautiful daughter kept me up all night. I know I looked at the clock at least twice every hour the night before. So needless to say, I felt like complete crap, and then got depressed on top of that since I couldn’t find anything that fit me. I still have to wear my maternity clothes. The plus side of that is that I’m able to wear all the maternity clothes that I outgrew months ago.
But the guilt. Now I understand why mothers feel so guilty all the time. Leaving Lyric, even with Ryan, made me feel guilty. I feel like she needs to be my responsibility all the time. Ryan is wonderful with her. So what’s my deal? As if I haven’t spend the last 10 months being the sole caretaker of this little girl. It’s someone else’s turn, right? Then why do I still feel guilty? GAH.
But anyway, my mom and I went to lunch at a Chinese place and I got the best fortune. It’s really not a fortune, it’s more like wisdom. It said, "He who cannot endure the bad will not live to see the good."
I think that pretty much sums it up.