I used to have a nice shallow belly button. My husband on the other hand has a deep dark pit --like 20,000 leagues deep. I have often been afraid that if I stuck my finger in there that I would never see it again. Not even the likes of Captain Nemo would be able to save my finger from the monster that lurked.
However, after the birth of my son, my belly button now rivals the depth of my husband's. It plunges from the surface of my belly into an abyss. Will it become the Bermuda Triangle of navels where important items could be lost without a trace? Does my belly button have a chance of returning to its former self?
As I sit here and mourn the loss of my former umbilicus, I wonder to myself : am I really this vain? No, of course not!...Ok, well...maybe a little. Maybe I am as shallow as my previous belly button, but when you've had pretty much the same body for most of your adult life and then it undergoes this major transformation, it's a little shocking.
It's not all bad though. When the woman at the bra shop measured me and revealed that I was no longer a measly 34B, but now upgraded to a double D, it was shock and awe. My husband could not have been more proud (I'm surprised that he didn't have a status update on Facebook bragging about his stacked wife). I apparently am going to have to nurse the baby until he is 18 to keep the girls in their current state.
The truth is though, I wouldn't trade this time for anything in the world--Bermuda Triangle or not. As always, just trying to take the good with the bad. In this case, the good far outweighs the bad.
Now, if I could only find my car keys...
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Confession number 1: The Magic of Smiles, Coos, and Zoloft
Tom Cruise can kiss my ass. I suppose if had become in touch with my inner thetan, I would realize that postpartum depression does not exist...mind over matter...stop being so glib, Jen. If only Tom had been driving by during my depression...he would've been the only one who could've helped me!
What a crock of SHIT... Truth be told, I did have a touch of the dreaded postpartum depression. On the third night post op c-section, I lay there in the hospital sobbing...thinking ridiculous thoughts like: "I'm not strong enough to handle this"..."I'm not good enough for my son". It progressed from there when I arrived at home. In the past, I have been prone to some moodiness, maybe a slight depression--nothing too significant. During my pregnancy, I had some emotional days where I raged against my husband and sent myself to my room...sobbing hysterically. Damn those pregnancy hormones...and damn those hormones post pregnancy.
Once I arrived at home, it was all I could do to keep myself from crying. I never had thought of hurting myself or the baby or anyone else...I did have thoughts of running away...asked myself why we decided to do this...blamed everyone for not telling me how hard this was going to be...blamed everyone for my chapped cracked painful nipples...
Not many women really talk about their depression...and I am one of them. My husband was able to figure it out--how could he not since he walked in on me multiple times while I was sobbing...he would have to be the emotional equivalent of an earthworm not to notice. My parents were staying with us and could sense that something was wrong. I attempted to put on the brave face for them, but sitting at the dinner table with a glossed over look on my face while hardly touching the fabulous gourmet meals that my dad was spoiling us with may have tipped them off.
Fortunately though, I did not suffer long with depression. Into my 2nd week postpartum, both my husband and mother suggested talking to the doctor. As if reading my mind, I received a call from on the nurses to check up on me. And poof, after an appointment with the nurse practitioner, Zoloft was prescribed .
By the third week postpartum, things kicked in for me. By "things", I mean the Zoloft...but what also started happening was realizing how precious these times were...catching glimpses of a smile...getting squirted in the face with a fountain of urine...hearing coos and squeals of delight...getting doused with spit up (hey--it happens)...and finally not just getting mere glimpses of a smile, but actually him smiling AT me...in response to me...
My heart melted...and I fell in love.
PS: Although I'm still annoyed by him, I have slightly forgiven Tom Cruise for his craziness...merely for his role in Tropic Thunder...
What a crock of SHIT... Truth be told, I did have a touch of the dreaded postpartum depression. On the third night post op c-section, I lay there in the hospital sobbing...thinking ridiculous thoughts like: "I'm not strong enough to handle this"..."I'm not good enough for my son". It progressed from there when I arrived at home. In the past, I have been prone to some moodiness, maybe a slight depression--nothing too significant. During my pregnancy, I had some emotional days where I raged against my husband and sent myself to my room...sobbing hysterically. Damn those pregnancy hormones...and damn those hormones post pregnancy.
Once I arrived at home, it was all I could do to keep myself from crying. I never had thought of hurting myself or the baby or anyone else...I did have thoughts of running away...asked myself why we decided to do this...blamed everyone for not telling me how hard this was going to be...blamed everyone for my chapped cracked painful nipples...
Not many women really talk about their depression...and I am one of them. My husband was able to figure it out--how could he not since he walked in on me multiple times while I was sobbing...he would have to be the emotional equivalent of an earthworm not to notice. My parents were staying with us and could sense that something was wrong. I attempted to put on the brave face for them, but sitting at the dinner table with a glossed over look on my face while hardly touching the fabulous gourmet meals that my dad was spoiling us with may have tipped them off.
Fortunately though, I did not suffer long with depression. Into my 2nd week postpartum, both my husband and mother suggested talking to the doctor. As if reading my mind, I received a call from on the nurses to check up on me. And poof, after an appointment with the nurse practitioner, Zoloft was prescribed .
By the third week postpartum, things kicked in for me. By "things", I mean the Zoloft...but what also started happening was realizing how precious these times were...catching glimpses of a smile...getting squirted in the face with a fountain of urine...hearing coos and squeals of delight...getting doused with spit up (hey--it happens)...and finally not just getting mere glimpses of a smile, but actually him smiling AT me...in response to me...
My heart melted...and I fell in love.
PS: Although I'm still annoyed by him, I have slightly forgiven Tom Cruise for his craziness...merely for his role in Tropic Thunder...
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