Category Archives: Post-partum

If the Pants Fits….

An amazing thing happened yesterday.

 

My

 

pants

 

(drumroll)

 

fit

 

(rimshot!!!!!!!!!)

 

Really.

For the first time in about a year I could fully button a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans. And I’m not counting the scrubby pair that were kinda big on me before I was pregnant. Oh no. These jeans are the closest thing I have to skinny jeans.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WOOHOO! High-fives all around.

More, more, more…

I want more…

(Deep breath)

I want one more kid – specifically a little girl.

But you just had a kid. You crazy!

Yes, this is true. A few months ago, I responded to a post in my online due date club by saying that I wouldn’t want another one until at least 2011. Heck, when I was giving birth, the thought did cross my mind (multiple times) to never do it again.

But I love kids and have always wanted at least two. And I love my son. I love having a son.

But I’ve recently had this overwhelming desire for a daughter.

I look at little girl clothes and feel all verklempt. I hear about mommies-to-be expecting daughters and feel a tiny, tiny twinge of jealousy. The other day I actually got teary-eyed.

Maybe it’s postpartum hormones.

Or maybe it’s that urge to have a kid that matches you in gender because then you feel that they can truly relate to you in that way.

Don’t get me wrong, sons can relate to their mothers and daughters don’t always relate to their mothers. But, there are some things that Baby E will never truly understand from my perspective simply because he’s male (barring any future transgender issues).

Maybe I just want a daughter so I can attempt to mold her into the type of woman I want to be. That right there is a bad set-up, my friend. Chances are she’d rebel against me even harder simply because she wouldn’t want to be her mother’s clone.

Or maybe I simply want a complete set – one boy, one girl.

Le Sigh.

Whatever my inner reason, I know it’s definitely too soon for another babe. So I’ll just go stare into the bright, bright eyes of my current bundle of joy when he wakes up (hopefully not for a few hours though) and be grateful that he chose me to come through.

Eating for who?

During my pregnancy I was a ridiculously healthy eater.  I was a healthy eater prior to pregnancy but I amped it up once I was pregnant. Now, I did have treats and I did occasionally eat stuff that wasn’t that healthy but everyday I made sure I ate fruit, drank water, had protein and my prenatal vitamins. I even made soymilk smoothies with wheat germ…wheat germ, people.

Then I had the baby.

My good eating habits went out the first window I passed. Slam dunk style. The first thing to go was the fact that I was eating regularly. I barely felt like I was getting to sleep or do any type of self-care. Even showers were a luxury. When it’s just you and a newborn and no one else is around to help for hours at a time it’s easy to fall into a pattern of self-neglect. You, the mama, are probably more sore than you’ve ever been before and newborns…well, newborns are needy. As a result, when I did eat, it was whatever was convenient which usually isn’t the most nutritionally sound food available. So began my descent into Micky D’s hell.

Five weeks later I’m finally starting to claw my way out. I’m making sure to drink more water and I’m trying to have fruit daily. I made dinner the other night for the first time in ages and it actually felt good to do it. C, my non-cooking, fast food enabler, was particularly grateful for a home-cooked meal. I’m not all the way back on the wagon but I’m slowly getting there. I remind myself that a malnourished mama means a malnourished baby. I even asked my enabler if he’d be willing to cook dinner sometimes. He surprised me by saying yes but apparently the recipes will be coming from Men’s Health magazine. I’m just glad that boxes with the words “Helper” or “a-roni” won’t be part of the equation.

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