Pain. Discomfort. Trauma.
I can barely walk. It hurts to sit. Stand. And lay down. If only I could spend the entire day in an Epsom salt bath.
I’m bloody. Wearing diapers. Making things called “padsicles” by the droves. (Only after 1st going through those that friends so graciously gifted me.) I am using every perineal foam, liner, and spray I can get my hands on. I learned rather quickly, you don’t wipe, you spray.
Add to that, my son is having difficulties with breastfeeding. As we work with specialists, we are learning he picked up some unhelpful oral habits in the womb. (And now he loves to clamp down on my nipples.) We have oral PT exercises we now do 3-5x/day. We have head and neck work we do too, along with taking him to a chiropractor and a specialist for possible tongue/lip tie. We’ll get there, I believe that. My cracked and pained nipples are looking forward to that day. (Yes, I even have the awesome cream and I get the silver nipple covers tomorrow. Biting is biting and no cream quite covers that.)
Today, I got out of the bath, dressed, put on my fresh diaper, nipple guards, and was suddenly met with intense abdominal pain. It left me writhing on the bed, thrashing with each wave of pain. What is going on? Uterine contractions? Must be. Dear Lord, help! 💨💨💨 Oh, wow. Lots of gas. 💨💨💨 And more. Bryan came in response to my moans and declared (based on the smell alone?) he thought it was GI related. Suffice it to say, earlier in the day I had one of my 1st big bowel movements. That was another kind of torture that honestly just felt rude. “Kick her while she’s down.” “Humiliate her.”
Well, you can’t humiliate someone without their acceptance; I decline. I may fall down 8 times, but I will get up 9. Note: “getting up” may look like asking daddy to take baby and keep him for an hour while I nap. In fact, that’s exactly what it looked like today. In addition to sending him on an urgent run to get colace (stool softener).
I am calling this stage of parenting BRUTIFUL.
On one hand it is the most beautiful thing to see this tiny human God created on the inside of me. To look at an outward manifestation of a spirit that I have been communing with for the past 10 months. Skin-to-skin, open-mouthed kissies, shared bath time and all the 1sts.
But this, “enjoy every moment” stuff. Hmmm…not sure that feels genuine to me. Though I tell my fitness classes to “embrace the shake” so maybe it’s a little like that?
I’m not wishing away his cries, nor our need to learn those many cries and care for him.
I’m not wishing away sleepless nights nor poopy diapers .
But the ability to wipe my butt, poop without feeling like I’m dying, and wear clothing without it looking like I’m wearing nipple tassels? Yes, that would be quite nice.
This too shall pass.
I know that. But I also know that rose-colored lenses and sharing “shiny photos” only will never work for me.
Keeping things REAL has always been at the heart of who I am and it will be no different with this beautiful and brutal parenting journey.
💚 Tammy
tammyweisweaver 