Let’s have a moment of silence for my breasts. (Oh, come on, you know you missed this!) Not only are they huge and covered in stretch marks, but they hang waaaay low. Ugh. No more perky perfect tiny-nippled youth boobs. Now… I have my mother’s boobs.
I can only imagine what they’ll look like when I’m done breastfeeding. And pumping. I have to go to ridiculous lengths to get milk out when I’m pumping. Especially my right one, or Disappointment Boob as I call it. I have to do compressions, which is a nice way of saying I have to squeeze the ever-loving hell out of it. I cram the pump cup thingy into my chest and then squeeze the top with my right hand and the side/bottom with my left hand, all while holding the left pump on that side with my forearm. I’m pretty talented, actually. But I wonder what kind of damage I’m doing to my tatas when I pump. Oy. All to get less than 2 ounces of milk into my kid every day.
I knew it’d take my body a while to bounce back (if there is such a thing) but I didn’t know it would take so long for my vagina to heal. I had the misfortune to get my period at 6 weeks postpartum. “Hey, but at least you’re fertile!” is what I’m told. Yeah… awesome. Even when I’m not bleeding, I still have stuff coming out of me. It’s 10 weeks postpartum tomorrow. Ten weeks of wearing pads, which, shockingly, I prefer these days. Attempted to wear a tampon recently. Big mistake! Felt like I shoved a cactus up there. Again, when will my vag feel like mine again? Still doing my kegals when I think of it. For my husband. (Some day, honey, I promise we’ll have sex again. Probably. Maybe. I don’t know.)
My belly still looks pregnant and the 30 minutes of walking I get twice a week isn’t doing anything. Shocker, I know! I also still have the pubic pain when I walk that I had when I was pregnant. Not sure that’s ever going away.
In other depressing news, I have less than three weeks of maternity leave left! Three weeks! And we still don’t have a nanny or daycare. Cutting it close is my specialty. We’ve met with two nannies, and we have a handful more scheduled to meet. And we’re touring a home daycare this weekend. And then by God, I’m just going to make a decision. I just want something set up now. I can continue to search for a more permanent solution after that. One we can afford. Do you know that babysitters and nannies get $15+ an hour? Crazy! When I was a kid, I babysat for $1 an hour. (And yes, I’m aware of how much that sentence made me sound OLD.) But I’m probably going to just have a nanny for 3 months or so, until I can bear to put her in daycare amongst all those germs. Because we all know that 6-month-olds can’t get sick, right? (Insert eyeroll here.) So I’ll give most of my paycheck to a stranger to love and care for my lil angel in my house while I sob quietly in my cube at work, missing her terribly.
Why can’t we be independantly wealthy?
You get the hiccups every day. Just like when you were inside of me. You don’t seem bothered by them, but they seem to bother your daddy. He always tries to make them go away. Your father loves you so much. It’s been a joy watching him enjoy his daughter. I can tell he is trying to make you giggle. I think when you do finally reach that milestone, he’ll be over the moon. There’s nothing sweeter than a man making his baby laugh. We both look forward to it.
Love, your mommy