If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you may remember how I whined that pregnancy did not look good on me. Instead, it wreaked havoc on any physical attributes that may have been somewhat attractive. I joked that the baby took my body, my brain and my cute, and if it took my funny too, I was screwed.
I had hoped that after my little bundle of havoc – I mean joy – was born, my body and appearance would eventually go back to the way they were. Yeah, not so much. (Experienced moms, you can insert your sinister laugh here.)
And so, the whining continues.
After eight months, my body is still not the same. Thanks to Operation B4 and breastfeeding (five hundred calories burned per day, baby!), the number on the bathroom scale and the size of my pants have gone back down to pre-preggo status. Awesome. However, things don’t look the same.
My hips and rib cage are still wider than before, and the skin around my middle is kind of saggy and… bleh. My belly button used to be round, but now it droops on the sides into a frown. (I’m sad, too, belly button.) I felt so self-conscious in my swim suit when we were in Kauai. I wore my cover-up almost the whole time. No amount of diet or exercise can address these issues. I guess I just need more time, but something tells me that my wider frame and sad belly button are here to stay.
My skin has not recovered either. My lovely preggo acne has exploded beyond what a surgical mask could cover. As much as I would love to blame it on the post-partum hormones, it’s been eight months. Seriously, people. What the hizzle? It’s not fair to have the crows feet of a thirty-two year old and the acne of a fifteen year old at the same time! Maybe it’s this stupid mini birth control pill I’m on. Grrr…
|Cute enough for both of us|
My hair is also jacked. Little baby hairs started growing around my hairline while I was pregnant, but now that I’m not pregnant anymore, they've stopped growing. So now I have this weird fringe of “baby bangs” on my forehead. It's thin and only one or two inches long, and it won’t blend in with the rest of my hair. Whether my hair is down or in a ponytail, there’s nothing I can do about the fringe. It’s an odd look.
And those dark circles under my eyes have always been there (thank you, heredity), but their purple hue has intensified since Q was born. That’s from waking up to nurse twice during the night and running around all day. Motherhood is a twenty-four hour a day job.
I now understand why sleep deprivation is used as a form of torture. Even when Quinn does sleep, insomnia often blocks me from sweet slumber. Sometimes it waits until I’m sound asleep, and then insomnia will carefully, quietly crawl under the blanket, up to the pillow, find my resting eyelids and then WHAM! Out of nowhere, my eyes fly open and I look at the clock.
What time is it? Is that Quinn crying? Is the baby monitor on? Is the monitor working? How long has he been asleep? When’s the last time he ate? He’s been asleep a long time. Should I go check on him? What if it’s too cold in his room? What if it’s too hot? Is he okay? Is he breathing? He sounded raspy earlier. Is he getting sick? I wish I had a video baby monitor. Oh, and I need another sun shade for the car… And I’m awake.
Okay, so that might have been a sneak preview into my “how motherhood made me insane” post. (Which you may have already figured out.)
Lack of sleep has caused more than just under-eye circles. My preggo brain has evolved into “mommy brain.” I can’t remember a damn thing, and constructing an articulate sentence is a feat. I seriously paused four times just writing this blog post because I forgot what I was going to say. Doh!
Nope, didn’t get my body, my cute or my brain back after Quinn was born. But I still have my funny. And if there’s one thing you don’t want to lose when you become a mom, it’s your sense of humor.