Factory Closed

Dad, don't read this.

Okay guys, I need your help. I just remembered that at my six week checkup after having Logan the doctor wanted me to choose a birth control option, so I'm assuming I'll have to pick one tomorrow. Damn. I've been trying to figure out what method I'd go with but I see pros and cons to them all. I came so close to just getting my tubes tied while I was having the c-section, but I read that some women have truly horrific problems after such an operation. So, there's the pill, but I'm breastfeeding and the only one I could take is the mini pill which isn't really as effective as the full blown pill. And I'm really not too thrilled with the idea of putting hormones into my body. I was on the pill for a few years and when I went off it I had severe mood swings and heart palpitations and it was not much fun. Then there are IUDs but they can puncture your uterus sometimes and I think they hurt to put in and they make your period worse. The patch and the shot are just more hormones . . . the sponge is too hard to put in and take out (remind me to tell you one day of the time Steven had to "deliver" a Today Sponge that I could not remove myself). Condoms are icky and too much trouble. Has anyone heard of this Essure thing? Seems kind of wacky.

Why won't Steven just get a vasectomy? Men!

A Realization

This is the longest I've gone without throwing up since finding out I was pregnant. Four weeks vomit-free! Damn, it feels good. I think I puked at least four times a week every week (on average) my entire pregnancy. I was hurling so often that my officemate at work urged me to make sure to visit my dentist ASAP after giving birth. Vomit erodes tooth enamel you know. She cautioned me that he might suspect an eating disorder but that I really should suck it up and go. Hello? Yeah - I really look like I have an eating disorder - that's a good one. Honey, I wasn't so svelte pre-pregnancy, but now? Let's just say I don't really have to worry about being mistaken for Nicole Richie.

All that puking taught me some valuable lessons.

• Never take the easy way out and throw up in the bathroom sink instead of the toilet. I know it's tempting to just run right in, turn to the side, and let loose into the sink. No fuss, no muss. No splashing. No bending over. It seems like the perfect choice. But no. Unless you want to be up at 1 AM unclogging the drain while your husband pretends to be asleep, just walk a few more steps and do your thing into the toilet.
  

• I don't really chew my pasta very well.

• If there is inadequate time between drinking and puking, the carbonation from Coke really hurts coming up.

• I will never eat chicken pot pie again.

• If you weigh close to 200 pounds, do not kneel in front of the toilet to puke. Just bend over as far as you can and hope you don't splash too much. Otherwise, you may have difficult getting up and/or you may injure something in your butt that makes it so you can barely walk and you will have to hobble around like a 90 year old for a good two months or so. You will even have to ride the damn motorized scooter in the grocery store and you will feel like a complete moron. Just saying.
  

• Vomiting an entire movie theater sized box of Junior Mints is not entirely unpleasant.
  

From Hideously Ginormous to Just Plain Old Ginormous

People seem surprised that I have lost 40 pounds in 3 weeks. Normally, I would be too! But, I did pop out two babies weighing a combined total of around 12 pounds. The rest is just placenta and blood and water weight. Oh, and let us not forget the handful of 3 pound bowel movements I've had this past week. So . . . really? Not that impressive.

I didn't take many photos of myself while pregnant - I just felt HUGE and uncomfortable and I wasn't particularly compelled to document my misery. But, I did force myself to take a couple of shots of myself in the mirror towards the very end. Keep in mind, these were taken a month before I actually gave birth. HA! Yes. So, I was even bigger and badder before this was all over. Oh, and don't pay any attention to the clothes on the floor . . . you try picking up anything off of the floor when you have a stomach the size of the Hindenburg.







This is how swollen I was:



What I'm about to show you is frightening and horrific and not suitable for public viewing. So, proceed at your own risk.

This is what the aftermath looked like:







Nice overhang, huh? They call that the "mother's apron," I'm told. Isn't that quaint? Every time they'd check my incision in the hospital they would have to lift up that flap. Humiliating AND painful! As I've lost weight and the swelling has diminished, so has the flap. THANK GOD. I still have a little bit of floppy pouch there, but it's not like I have to tuck it into my pants anymore (oh yes, I did).