Friday, February 15, 2019

In The Beginning


It's been almost 7 months since I became a mother of two. Two girls. My girls. It's so weird. I often wonder what they're going to say about me when they're grown and talking among themselves about Mom, using phrases like, "you know how she gets," and "I can't deal with her right now." I'll be pining for the days that they needed me in the middle of the night. Maybe that's why I don't mind when she wakes up at the crack of dawn, or fights going down for her nap. Holding her for just a little while longer won't hurt anyone. It's been a wild half a year, but I wouldn't change (most of) it for anything. For any mom with a brand new baby, please know: It gets better.

6 months is the height of cuteness, I feel

The first 6-8 weeks are still the dark ages. I think I was prepared more for it this time, so the darkness felt more like an old friend than an unexpected visitor. While I didn't fantasize about paper cutting my husband's wiener this time, I did seriously contemplate lighting him on fire, ripping the Playstation from the wall, and throwing it over the second floor balcony. I imagined the pleasure that would wash over me as it crashed to the floor; tiny, essential pieces flying off, never to be found again.



Instead of letting this fester, I did the adult thing. I told him about it. I said, "Hey, the other night when you were playing video games, and you put on your headphones and SHUT THE DOOR so you wouldn't be bothered, I was trying to read Trinity a book before bed and then Everly woke up and started screaming so I had to go get her and bounce her to keep her quiet as I also read The Boxcar Children, and all I could think about was you in there with the door shut playing video games with your headphones on, completely unaware of your entire family, and I wanted to light you on fire." I said this very calmly, like a psycho. He just nodded, possibly terrified, and said he understood. Did he really understand? Of course not. But spelling it out got him a lot closer than remaining silent would have.

I think as women we try to be so strong and take care of everything without complaining because anything less could be seen as a weakness, even by us. Everyone gets so used to it that it becomes expected, but then you're left exhausted and bitter. Sometimes just clearly laying out your needs and expectations is all it takes to make a difference, even if it really sucks to do it.

So what does he do? Takes me to Mexico for my birthday. If there's one thing a new mom wants, it's to leave her baby and put on a swimsuit 4 months after giving birth. I really do love him so much.

I thought trying to do it all and have it all was the reason I felt like crap all the time. I thought it was because I'm not 25 anymore, so of course it's going to take longer for things to go back to normal. I finally went to the doctor when I couldn't rationalize it any longer. Turns out my ridiculous bi-lobed placenta was the gift that kept on giving, and left a bit of itself behind for me to remember it by, as if I could forget. My poor body was trying to heal while also thinking it was still pregnant, and it was wreaking all sorts of havoc. Luckily for me (and I use that term loosely), I was able to birth what was left of it with the help of some drugs and it did not have to be surgically removed. If you're interested in seeing what a bi-lobed placenta looks like, here is a picture. It's basically two placentas bound together by weird bodily organ stuff. They thought it all came out at birth, but they were wrong.

You're welcome