<--one of the side effects of pregnancy: no head
It's really hard for me to remember what it was like right after my son was born. I am, therefore, totally flummoxed when friends who have just had babies ask me to recall details so they can compare them with their current experience.You know how when you have a dream you can sometimes see yourself in the dream, like you're watching a movie? My early-post-partum memories are not like that. Every memory I have is of the baby or other people in my periphery. I look at photos and I don't recognize my hairstyle or the dishes on the table or outfits I was wearing.
Freud talks about how small children don't individuate until later in life, how at the beginning, they think they are THE SAME PERSON as their mother. I think perhaps the mother feels the same way. At least I know I did. Especially at the first pediatrician office appointment, when the nurse made me hold his little arm down so she could jab a GIANT NEEDLE into it for a vaccination?
I almost punched that bitch. I am not kidding. It was as if my body was somehow invisibly wrapped around him, so that the needle actually went through me first before getting to him, like that guy that got shot in the shoulder when Kennedy was assassinated. Except the nurse looked me right in the eye before she did it. No grassy knoll required.
I have three friends who have had babies in the past month and a half, so as you can imagine, it is CRAZYTOWN up in here. For two of them, this is the second kid. So, no biggie. Although S (whom I will talk more about later, and whom I have renamed The She-Kramer because she lives in my building and drops by all the time), almost died with her first kid so hello? Trooper. And the other mom of two is Daphne, the one I wrote about before with the post-partum bike riding (ow), whose baby I almost threw across the room, who is now on a two week vacation in Europe with a two year old and a newborn, something that makes me almost black out just thinking about it. Daphne does all the stuff Angelina Jolie does right after having a kid, except without a helicopter and five nannies.
Anyway, the third is, as you know, Eden, who named her baby--her first child--the ridiculously awesome girl name. Both Eden and The She-Kramer have asked me how long it takes for the baby belly to go back down to normal size. The She-Kramer asks this because her first kid was a vaginal birth and this most recent one was a c-section. Eden asks because hers was also a c-section, and it's her first, so she's kind of in a perpetual state of "WTF?" right now. I remember that state well, when you know there was no way anyone could have prepared you for it but you kind of can't believe how much stuff happened that no one tells you about, and you know you would have been annoyed if they HAD told you the bad stuff and scared you, but you can't help feeling sort of betrayed that no one at least gave you a HINT.
So anyway, the belly. Both Eden and The She-Kramer want to know how soon your belly goes away after a c-section. One of them is nursing, the other isn't. Both are about the same size still (so we can dispel that myth about breastfeeding sucking away all your fat). They both look GREAT, but they're not happy, necesarily, with still wearing maternity crap. Me, i was in love with my maternity crap so I really don't remember being eager to give it up. (I had this one pair of sailor pants from the GAP with THE SOFTEST belly panel ever, I swear, I wanted to wear them forever. I almost considered getting pregnant again JUST SO I COULD WEAR THOSE PANTS.)
Anyway. here's the thing. I have no freaking idea how long it took my belly to go away. There was a lot going on. I know that when I went back to work, my boobs were ENORMOUS. Like, not appropriate for the office at ALL. Can't believe my husband didn't tell me to cover that shit UP. Whoa. SO maybe I didn't notice the belly because my boobs drew so much attention that the stomach paled in comparison? No idea. I went back to work when FrogBoy was 11 weeks old, and though I remember sobbing on the kitchen floor the night before, my view of that is of a closeup of my kitchen floor, a beautiful 18-inch slate tile floor we'd installed when I was about 6 months along, literally spattered with tears and covered with pieces of the stupid breastpump that I was already at that point learning to LOATHE. This closeup view of the floor and boob accessories does not, therefore, include a wide-angle shot of what I was wearing or whether my belly was big.
I wish I could sort of pan out to see myself, maybe push that button they have for driving video games where you can choose whether your view is of the dashboard & windshield, or of the whole car. That would come in handy.
I never had a flat belly to begin with, actually, so maybe I don't notice the difference. Everyone (and by everyone I mean, people who are pregnant and to whom everyone looks thin in comparison) says I have a flat stomach and that I am "thin" but honestly, I just try to dress well for my shape, play up my
assets <---titstitstits, and hope for the best. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight in a week but I am not back to my pre-pregnancy shape. Never will be. My feet are a half size bigger (thank God because otherwise I would fall over), and things have just moved around. I have all the same stuff--matter can neither be created nor destroyed--but it's arranged differently. And as I've been told by Martha Stewart is also true regarding flowers, the arranging part makes all the difference.
When I was twentyish I could not for the life of me understand how women would get plastic surgery. That was easy to say, back then, when I had a rockin' bod and porcelain skin and could smoke cigarettes and drink hard and eat whatever I wanted with zero consequences. Now I'm not so sure. When Eden e-mailed Penny and me about the belly question, the subject line was "tummy tuck," though I don't think she was seriously considering it. Maybe, though. I mean, it's a little early for that. But it's food for thought. I remembered reading an article on this called The Mom Job in Brain, Child Magazine, so I'm sending that to her.
What do you think? Should we value our 'goddess bellies' because they are a sign of fertility, proof of what we've gone through? or would you be open to plastic surgery to erase the outward signs of motherhood? Do you think it's freaky when you see a woman with five children and she's in the body of a teenager? or are you secretly jealous? If money was no object, would you have something "done"? Or are you worried that you'd accidentally die on the table and be all embarrassed you went under the knife for something elective?
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