I know. The photo is a bit blurry but when the man smiles up at you and it is finally recorded digitally one must share.
Not the life for me, this postpartum nonsense. Which is not nonsense at all but very serious and sometimes awful business. Those first two weeks were by far the worst I've had yet (out of three deliveries). Physical discomforts. Breastfeeding woes. Sick older children and the fear that brings for the baby. Hand washing. Diapers upon diapers. Spit up and milk everywhere. Inpatient toddlers. The lack of sleep ain't got nothing on that list. But in between all of that you hold in your arms a precious little miracle. A miracle that in our case we wanted for a long long time and went to great measures to get. Blood work and tests and shots and suppositories (yuck) and IUI's and a zillion doctor appointments later and here you are, 10 months later, holding the fruits of that labor. Literally. Kind of makes the rest of it fade.
Not the life for me, this postpartum nonsense. Which is not nonsense at all but very serious and sometimes awful business. Those first two weeks were by far the worst I've had yet (out of three deliveries). Physical discomforts. Breastfeeding woes. Sick older children and the fear that brings for the baby. Hand washing. Diapers upon diapers. Spit up and milk everywhere. Inpatient toddlers. The lack of sleep ain't got nothing on that list. But in between all of that you hold in your arms a precious little miracle. A miracle that in our case we wanted for a long long time and went to great measures to get. Blood work and tests and shots and suppositories (yuck) and IUI's and a zillion doctor appointments later and here you are, 10 months later, holding the fruits of that labor. Literally. Kind of makes the rest of it fade.
All that said I know this baby to be our last. This recovery has been sort of burned that into my brain and the lack of a fifth bedroom has further dampened any other prospects.
Once my body decided to get it's schtuff together, which in the scheme of things was a minor thing as it took only three weeks till I felt like me again, I took matters into my own hands and I started working out. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't shoot their husbands, they just don't. So I did that. And that helped dramatically. I had my 45 minutes to myself. My old routine. My old shows. Me time. 45 blissful minutes. And yes I took it easy and listened to my body as they say. I am pleased to report that as of these five weeks out I only have a pound and a half to go to be back to my pre-Dom weight so. Thumbs up. If we want to talk about pre-kids weight I'm afraid I can't share that. Ways and heaps and pounds to go.
Things that have been postpartum life savers?
I require an arsenal worthy of the pharmacy department at Target. Tucks. Dermoplast. Prep H (hate to say it but it's true). Pads. Lots of pads. Ibuprofen. An ab binder (similar here) that honestly I don't know how I ever had a baby without one! Nursing tanks which I repeat, where have you been all my postpartum life!? My boppy. And don't forget the wine. If I were to be stranded on a deserted island and knew I would be having a baby there, this is what I would pack in my postpartum bag. In bulk. And maybe the prayer of a freezer full of ice.
Lots of ice.
