Monday, January 5, 2009

Funky Title, I know...

I guess you could call it power of association. Upon creating the site, the first two words that made its way into my brain were 'breast milk' and 'cheerios'. I can understand breast milk since I feel like my whole life revolves around nursing and pumping, pumping and nursing. This is a twenty-four hour job that no one mentions when you're laying in a hospital bed, telling the nurse your preference for doing the best thing for your baby. No one informed me about a lot of things. 

Where should I begin? I'll start with pregnancy. Most people know about the cravings, the pickles-and-ice-cream state of hunger, but no one ever mentions constipation. Bowel movements, and lack thereof, became dinner table conversation topics. Walking, eating fiber, and relaxation were all great for the baby's development, but they were secondary to the real reason I was walking my ass through Central Park and eating the produce section of any grocery store within a five block radius. The real reason is simple. I had to go!

Another thing not mentioned...shooting leg/hip pains. These things feel like grenades launched in the pelvic area. They happen so fast. Walk walk walk and boom, I'm down. No rhyme or reason. Going on my daily walks were as painful as sex (I'll get to that later). I tried to calculate and time my explosions, but I wasn't always successful. Sometimes, I would get to the park restroom with just an iota left of restraint. I would often prairie dog it for about 15 min into my walk. Pregnant women should just carry a portable toilet seat. 

Sex sucks. The whole reason I ended up pregnant was because of sex; hot, sweaty, can't-get-enough-of-you, do-it-five-times-a-day sex, sex that makes you want to call in sick, that type of sex. From the moment the stick turned pink, I couldn't muster the energy to have sex. At first, it was the terrible morning sickness. Eventually, it was constipation and then just feeling absolutely disgusting and uncomfortable trying to maneuver my GInormous belly around the bed and trying not to crush my svelte fiance. The vaginal yeast infections (none of which I had before) didn't help matters either. 

Post-partum sex isn't any better. The process of birth should come with a warning label. No one tells you about the blood, the drugs, and the way your vagina looks after giving birth. Just looking down there turned me off to sex and any consideration for doing the dirty absolutely shut down after experiencing my first trip to the toilet. The blood curdling screams were only after going pee, imagine what I did when I had to poop. 

Sex does eventually get a little better, a little more comfortable but it resembles nothing of the passionate trysts we had daydreamed about during pregnancy sex. I think Alex had to imagine me during the height of my sexiness to get through the rounds of sexual foreplay with a forever-hungry, sweaty (at the peak of summer in NYC) soon-to-be mama. I am hoping that it will one day. I already starting cleaning off my french maid outfit, although, quite frankly, I think he'd appreciate anything that wasn't a loose button-down soiled shirt with sour breast milk stains. 

I should get to sleep. They always say to sleep when the baby sleeps. Who came up with that? I can't control my sleeping habits more than my 3 month old baby who refuses to sleep for more than 15 min at a time during the day. But like all of parenting, I'll try. 

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