So, of COURSE I jinxed myself after my last post. The last 2 nights Trent and I had to take turns trying to get Sydney to go back to sleep! So much for the dream sleeper. BUT, she still is more mellow in her refusal to sleep. She grunts and fusses and sometimes cries, but she very rarely is a screamer, which is shockingly kinder to a parent’s nervous system than the alternative. Hmmmm. Deep in thought. Probably wondering when that fast, hyper thing with blonde hair is going to come back and attack.
I’m not sure why her little chin is all red, but if you look closely, we think there’s some red in her hair too.
So, usually a blog is for posting opinions, thoughts, stream of consciousness type things: events of one’s life at the current time; stories and anecdotes, etc. Well, the thing is, many of the events and details about the end of pregnancy, labor and delivery, and being a postpartum mother are not exactly appropriate fodder for a public blog. After going through this a second time, I’ve decided that this process is one of the most vulnerable times in a woman’s life. So, although I am now issuing a disclaimer that some semi-private issues are going to be discussed, I will attempt to avoid total disclosure and embarassment of blogger and reader by avoiding certain taboo topics. However, there are some things that are fair game.
And one of those things is the post-baby belly. What the HECK!? I remember the first time around, I couldn’t believe no one told me that you leave the hospital still looking 6 months pregnant. It was a shocker. The baby is gone, along with all that amniotic fluid, and quite a bit of blood. What is left to make it still protrude so stubbornly? But worse than the size is the substance. Seriously, it’s like bread dough. Not the firm, thumpable watermelon that you entered with. Actually, when I lay on my back, it all but disappears, which is awesome–just to be able to lay on my back at all is great. But stand back up and you’ve got an big lump of dough hanging on your abdomen. Obviously, nature takes over and it starts to shrink eventually. The thing is, from my own personal experience, I cannot for the life of me remember how quickly that happened. Last time, it was a chilly autumn when this happened, so I was able to hide behind zip up sweatshirts for weeks. This time we’ve had temps in the 80’s nad 90’s and all I want to wear are tank tops, which are NOT forgiving to size large muffin top tummies. I’m trying to be patient and I’m certainly not ready to start dieting, but I am anxious for the day when I don’t feel the need to take my newborn everywhere in order to prevent the dreaded question: When is your baby due? Oh, you know–she’s ALREADY BORN! Sigh.