baby is here..fog is lifting..sort of..

having babies is not for the faint of heart, or the sane. On September 1st at 5:06 am my son entered this world fourteen days early and I joined the ranks of the walking comatose. Thankfully the mind allows you to forget exactly how the combination of childbirth, lack of sleep, breastfeeding, and the eupohoria of it all is enough at any given moment to make you collaspe where you stand. Sleep leaves your house as quickly as you depart your own bed for the couch. I dream of getting my sexy back but staring at my still plump figure in the mirror...understand that it will take more than hard wishing.
Baby sleeps and like most moms I stare caught in the rapture of my miracle, forgetting that precious sleep minutes are ticking away never to be seen again..my once pristine house now is worthy of a clean house makeover but all i can do is..
drink another soda and lean back further on my couch aka bed.
Did i mention I had a c section?
Yeah, about that. The shaking on the table, hearing my doc say " now stay really really still for the next ten seconds.." while he has my stomach open.. a little un nerving. Who knew this pain would have me longing wistfully for a vaginal birth?
Oh and my baby is wicked cute.
Although my skin is drier than a cactus, i keep drinking soda, because I can, and right now, fitness and health isn't my top priority. I eat when i can, what i can, and currently it's better than prior to birth, but not by much. As the haze disappates my desire to be fit and trim returns...

not superwoman..this week at least..

All week I have been doing my version of “I think I can I think I can” ..reminding myself that getting pregnant is a blessing and not a curse, just because I am not married. Last Saturday my belly popped out, at sixteen weeks, so like that, I went from barely looking pregnant to pregnant. The belly opens up the door for the entire universe to comment on the state of your pregnancy.

“Wow how far along are you again?”

“Make sure you get checked for gestational diabetes”

“Talked to the father lately?”

“I could never do what you are doing. Ever. You are like superwoman”

Usually, maybe, sometimes, but not this week. In fact, I have carefully searched my apartment for my cape only to come up with nada. My 12 year old is gone for a couple of weeks visiting her dad for Spring Break. It’s just me in a pair of Nikes, running a little faster than this cold, and our cat Sunset.

The phone hasn’t rung this week with a call from the dad. I only gained a pound in the last four weeks, just seems it’s all in my belly. And as my breasts expand even further, I attempt comfort by a trip to Old Navy to get some clothes more in line with my current size.

I end up crying silently in the dressing room, picking up the mediums and large size dresses that fit. This sucks alone. Especially right now.

I have a pity party in my head back to the car, and then I sit in the car for about thirty minutes.
I rub my stomach and tell my son how my I love him, and to ignore mom’s momentary insanity. I tell him every single good thing I can recall of his dad which takes a while.

I tell myself screw the cape and get over it..there will be a lot more days a whole lot tougher than this one. I knew that going in.

So I dump a bag of fear and a smaller suitcase of loneliness out the window. For now.

And drive home.