Six weeks postpartum and it blows my mind how quickly my body is going back to normal. If I knew while I was pregnant that this was how it would be I could have saved myself a lot of headaches and worrying. According to my doctor today, my vag is back to what it should be, which is what I suspected. My feet went back to their rightful size and my shoes fit once again. I only have 6lbs left to lose of the 28lbs that I gained. Which is a relief considering when I left the hospital I was only down 6lbs total after having a 7lb 4oz baby, that made no sense to me! Also, my abs, praise Jesus, are still there and I don’t think my sister or husband will let me live that down. And I say that they are “there” in the since that I don’t feel like it will take me years to tighten things back to where they were prior. Which I was also cleared to go back to working out again today!
I also owe a lot to the Belly Bandit that I purchased when I was still pregnant. I went back and forth on the idea of purchasing it but so many people praised it like the second coming of Christ, I figured it couldn’t hurt. It has given me a ton of back support and has helped pull things back to where I left them before Cora moved them.
All that being said, I am still very uncomfortable in 90% of my clothes. The few extra pounds are enough to make me feel self conscious and make me realize that my clothes don’t fit just like they did before yet. Being in sweats and yoga clothes for so long now makes it even harder to pull on a pair of jeans.
Mentally things have been a bit different. The first two weeks, everything made me cry. And I mean everything. Happy tears, sad tears, and dear God every commercial deserved tears. Hello, hormones. While I have still had my moments, more out of exhaustion, the tears have subsided substantially and I feel like I have a better grip on the hormones.
Then there are the mental “mommy”hurdles. The mommy guilt, lack of sleep, need to do it all. And I know I take out my frustration on my husband. My Husband who is once again, working his ass off and may only be able to give Cora one bottle in a 24 hour period or may not even be around to help even in the middle of the night. That leaves me to do it all and man, can I take it out on him. I provide him with a plate of daddy guilt basically.
The good news is, every week and even day, it all gets better. Both mentally and physically. As each day goes by I feel like we are finding our groove. Last night I had 5 girls over for my normal wine night, some brought their baby. Appetizers set out, wine poured, my house clean and babies passed around for being held. We laughed, we gossiped, we drank, we stopped to feed a baby and change diapers but my life wasn’t over. As my tipsy ass went to bed I told my husband he had to take the 1am feeding because I sure as hell wasn’t and he owed me. So he did.
I can tell you one thing, when the going does get tough, I remind myself that at least I’m not still pregnant because that shit was tough:)