C section scar starting to fade in parts, and stretch marks? Hardly.
I just realised I haven't really written about this yet,
and with Etta being almost one thought it was high time that I did. Given that I walked you through the horror
that was my pregnancy and labour (a fairly standard horror I'd say), I thought
it best I should warn you about what comes next.
And this warning may be messy as the first, and
probably most consistent thing, is sleep deprivation.
There is a reason why this is used as a torture technique
- lack of sleep actually hurts. There
are still days where I cry simply because I am exhausted and can't rest, and there is no end to this torture in sight. Because while I have a
wonderful, thoughtful, cute and amazing child she (not unlike her mother) is
yet to unravel the mystery of consistent sleep.
I can't hold this against her as sleep patterns are hereditary and I'm a
pretty awful sleeper. So her inability
to sleep is mostly my fault really*.
Lack of sleep physically hurts, and also hurts your brain. My brain is still in a post-pregnancy fog, and Etta is almost a year old! The only reason I am writing this blog today is because I got 5 HOURS OF SOLID SLEEP LAST NIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 9 MONTHS! And that was probably only because Etta has a cold. I applaud all mothers (and fathers) who return to work early and manage to not get fired or have a nervous breakdown. I have just started working part time in my old-old job (yay for Video Ezy), and this is going ok. But it's only because it's a job that I did for years that requires little of my brain and I don't have to take work home with me. I don't know how people manage to teach, write novels or do surgery when they have a small child. Those people need trophies.
Lack of sleep physically hurts, and also hurts your brain. My brain is still in a post-pregnancy fog, and Etta is almost a year old! The only reason I am writing this blog today is because I got 5 HOURS OF SOLID SLEEP LAST NIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 9 MONTHS! And that was probably only because Etta has a cold. I applaud all mothers (and fathers) who return to work early and manage to not get fired or have a nervous breakdown. I have just started working part time in my old-old job (yay for Video Ezy), and this is going ok. But it's only because it's a job that I did for years that requires little of my brain and I don't have to take work home with me. I don't know how people manage to teach, write novels or do surgery when they have a small child. Those people need trophies.
Back in my early 20's, friends and I who were (and still
are) a pretty un-PC bunch used to refer to post-baby lady bits as 'train-wreck
vagina' or 'wreckage cunt'. And although
we were yet to experience the wonder of parenthood ourselves, I have to say, we
were not far wrong. Even though I didn't
quite make it to a vaginal delivery (almost!) I did manage to wreck my
vagina. Sex is only just now becoming
not painful. It took nine months to get to that point. Nine months people. No one tells you this stuff!
Etta got stuck in my vagina, so even though she didn't and up exiting that way, she messed it around some when she attempted to come out face-first. I've retrospectively discovered that both myself and my mother also came into the world in this fashion, and Etta's entrance was by far the least traumatic - Grandma almost died and my Mum, after several hours of pushing was snipped big time by Dr's to help 'get me around the corner'. I don't need to go into details of Mum's gynae health subsequently - I'll just say it's been tough times. So even though things have been bad in my lady parts, I suspect they could have been much worse had I not lucked into the conservative surgeon who opted for C Section. Makes no-sex-for-nine-months seems like a present.
Etta got stuck in my vagina, so even though she didn't and up exiting that way, she messed it around some when she attempted to come out face-first. I've retrospectively discovered that both myself and my mother also came into the world in this fashion, and Etta's entrance was by far the least traumatic - Grandma almost died and my Mum, after several hours of pushing was snipped big time by Dr's to help 'get me around the corner'. I don't need to go into details of Mum's gynae health subsequently - I'll just say it's been tough times. So even though things have been bad in my lady parts, I suspect they could have been much worse had I not lucked into the conservative surgeon who opted for C Section. Makes no-sex-for-nine-months seems like a present.
Please don't let this freak you out too much! My body has always been a little slow to
heal, and I know a bazillion other people that never had a problem (hello babies with 16 month age gaps, what?) But this
problem is fairly common. And in all
honesty, the post-baby hormones were screaming for me to not have sex (probably cos it didn't want to be wrecked further by another baby). I had no libido until recently. None. And
I was (and am) exhausted. So I was
(unsurprisingly) not super keen on sex (poor Murray). So if you don't want to have sex straight after
having a baby, try not to beat yourself up about it. It's pretty normal. And if you do want to then go you! You (and your partner) are lucky. Have fun with the sexy sexy times. Just beware that the old wives tales lie - you can get knocked up while
breastfeeding. So if you don't want to
get knocked up, use some kind of protection.
With the slow healing plus Caesar came other post Etta complications I was not expecting. The first being that the C Section scar really, really hurt for a really, really long time. The reason it was common to find me in my jim jam pants at home is because wearing proper adult pants rubbed my scar and hurt.** I wore those gross, giant-K mart-a-size-too-big-pregnancy-knickers for about the first six months so my undies didn't rub on the scar. It's pretty good now, and the scar is slowly turning into that normal white line, and I am glad. Trust me, this isn't about looks - I think scars are cool, but I don't like being hurt by clothes.
In the looks department the biggest change has been that I actually started going grey! I thought Murray was wrong (he thinks there are only four colours) so completely ignored him when he first told me, then I checked, and it was true! Surprising for me cos I still don't even feel like an adult, and I still get IDed when buying booze and scratchies. How can someone forever young get grey hair? It's sleep deprivation I tell you. I am glad to say that pregnancy
affected me less than puberty in terms of stretch marks. Maybe it's cos I already got my allotment,
but I only have a few on my tummy, and not much more on my boobs than was there
before. So that's nice. Again, no biggie to me anyways - stretchmarks are just like scars, and scars are cool in my book. Make up a story. Shark attack, bus accident, conjoined twin - it'll be sweet.
One thing I wasn't expecting was more due to the C Section being my third abdominal surgery in a short period of time - my core strength was screwed. This seems like a small complaint until you experience it. Going from being a normal, healthy person with pretty good strength and balance to someone who can't stand up from a crouch feels weird. And it's also dangerous when learning about carrying babies - I nearly dropped Etta from becoming unbalanced a few times. I am kinda grateful my back was so bad during pregnancy so I had a change table - I would have been pretty screwed without one. The best way to fix this was through light exercise - walking and running with the pram (when I finally had enough energy/motivation) got this to come right pretty quick smart.
Physical changes aside, the biggest change has been in my outlook. I will never view the world the same way again. My priorities are, and will always be, different to what they used to be. I will never judge another person's parenting again as I've learned that an ideal, and what is practical are two very different things. I can never live up to my former expectations of what a parent does.
I am learning to live with letting people down. This is hard as a former people-pleaser but I know I need to put my daughter, my family and my sanity first at all times. This often impacts on my broader circle of people. It doesn't mean I care for those people any less, and I am grateful that those closest to me know and understand this. But I still feel bad. Not only for them, but for me. Because I miss being social, and going out, and eating food, and drinking wine and feeling like a separate human entity. But if I'm worried about my child, or exhausted, I can't enjoy doing those things anyway, so I'm better off at home.
One thing I wasn't expecting was more due to the C Section being my third abdominal surgery in a short period of time - my core strength was screwed. This seems like a small complaint until you experience it. Going from being a normal, healthy person with pretty good strength and balance to someone who can't stand up from a crouch feels weird. And it's also dangerous when learning about carrying babies - I nearly dropped Etta from becoming unbalanced a few times. I am kinda grateful my back was so bad during pregnancy so I had a change table - I would have been pretty screwed without one. The best way to fix this was through light exercise - walking and running with the pram (when I finally had enough energy/motivation) got this to come right pretty quick smart.
Physical changes aside, the biggest change has been in my outlook. I will never view the world the same way again. My priorities are, and will always be, different to what they used to be. I will never judge another person's parenting again as I've learned that an ideal, and what is practical are two very different things. I can never live up to my former expectations of what a parent does.
I am learning to live with letting people down. This is hard as a former people-pleaser but I know I need to put my daughter, my family and my sanity first at all times. This often impacts on my broader circle of people. It doesn't mean I care for those people any less, and I am grateful that those closest to me know and understand this. But I still feel bad. Not only for them, but for me. Because I miss being social, and going out, and eating food, and drinking wine and feeling like a separate human entity. But if I'm worried about my child, or exhausted, I can't enjoy doing those things anyway, so I'm better off at home.
And in spite of all these changes, I don't feel like a
different person. Because I am still
myself. I still say really inappropriate
things at inappropriate times. I still
love cooking and animals and bad TV. I'm
just a tired me with a different job which is all encompassing. Yes, the subject matter I talk about has changed - but my job has changed. And it's not like my old job where I could avoid
checking my emails - I'm at work 24/7 every day for the rest of my life. I can't just switch it off.
And I love it.
It's seriously the best thing that's ever happened to me. Because nothing else will ever teach me as much
as becoming a parent has and will. And
because we made the coolest person. She's
smart, cute, funny and really social.
She is a little different (mega tall, Wolverine style healing abilities,
super bendy and will be late to walk) but pretty much every baby is in one way or another, and it
makes them all the more awesome. Bum crawling
is hilarious. I laugh every day. Pregnancy and sleep deprivation are a bitch
but so worth it for the life I have now.
Our first Mothers Day (with Etta on the outside)
* If only she had inherited sleep from her father - he
can fall asleep mid conversation.
Frustrating at times, but a pretty awesome skill nonetheless.
** This no longer hurts, but you will still find me in my jim jams because I can. And why wouldn't I? And if you find me in PJ pants it means that I like you - I am comfortable enough with you not to even put pants on. That means you're pretty cool. Go on, give yourself a hug.
** This no longer hurts, but you will still find me in my jim jams because I can. And why wouldn't I? And if you find me in PJ pants it means that I like you - I am comfortable enough with you not to even put pants on. That means you're pretty cool. Go on, give yourself a hug.
