When do you switch from counting weeks to counting months? I stopped counting days when I got to one week so I suppose I should stop counting weeks after one month.
He is two months old; I am eight weeks postpartum. For C-section ladies, eight weeks is the magic number of weeks for recovery.
I don’t know why.
I do know that I have “recovered.”
My stitches dissolved. I’m cleared to do light weight lifting, (whatever) gentle yoga (is) and some cardio, such as walking. I’m allowed to climb stairs regularly and lift things heavier than the baby. You know, like the baby in his car seat, which weighs exactly 300 pounds. I’m also officially cleared to drive… but I’ve been doing that for weeeeks.
Not on pain killers? Back in the driver’s seat. Girl’s got places to be.
Speaking of pain…
The consistent sharp cutting pain I felt during the first three weeks postpartum is gone — so is the consistent dull throbbing pain I felt in the weeks following.
Now, the only “pain” I feel comes from pressure on the incision site.
Which means ALL of my structured pants and skirts from pre-pregnancy hurt me because they put pressure against the incision site so I guess I don’t have to worry about fitting into them again… yet.
Which is good, because I don’t have the time or energy to add a workout routine to my day… to my week. I might be able to pull off a trip to the gym once every two weeks — and I’ll be doing NORMAL yoga in my NORMAL class, if baby and boobs cooperate, of course.
Yeah, it’s not just the baby taking up all my time and energy. I also have to contend with my boobs.
Every spare second of waking up early in the morning is spent — you guessed it — pumping, and every spare second of waking up late in the morning is spent — oh, yeah — still pumping.
For instance, while writing this blog at 5:15 a.m., I’m — yup! — pumping.
I’ve got an overactive set of milk producers over here (I’m not worried about not producing enough anymore). I’ve also got a hungry baby who recently when through a tremendous growth spurt — mostly in the head region, adding two inches to its circumference and setting himself solidly in the 99th percentile for head size.
So I don’t have the time…
…waking up earlier doesn’t work either. For instance, again, I’ve been awake since 4 a.m. — first feeding the baby, and then pumping.
Plus, I have to wash my pump parts after every use. There’s only like six pieces so I’m not going to run them through the dishwasher. I’m hand-washing these babies, which takes up even more of my morning.
By now, it’s 6:45 a.m., and I have to get ready for work. (But the baby woke up again, and he’s hungry.)
So I don’t have the energy…
…there is not enough caffeine, there are not enough calories I can consume.
Oh yeah, whoever decided you don’t have to increase your calorie intake while breastfeeding — and I’ve heard people say this — is a jerk.
I have to increase my calorie intake because, now, I’m literally eating for two. I have to feed me, and then I have to feed him. with. the. same. food.
Luckily, the person who decided you don’t have to increase your calorie intake while breastfeeding is also wrong. I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want, and not gain weight.
Want to know why?
Turning roast chicken into breast milk burns calories. Lots and lots of calories.
So I don’t care.
I. do. not. care.
The only thing that can get me on a regular workout schedule without time and energy is money… for the nanny, the housekeeper and personal cook I would need to get time and energy enough to incorporate a workout into my daily routine.
I’m not never going to work out again. I will fit into all those pants and skirts hanging in my closet again — mostly because I don’t want to buy new ones — but my body will never look like it did before pregnancy.
Stretch marks cannot be exercised or dieted away — and we all know I’m not going to diet. My scar will fade, but it will always pinch the skin to pucker. My skin will probably remember, at some point, that we’ve already gone through puberty. My hair will grow back… my hair will grow back my hair will grow back my hair will grow back…
I gained 41 pounds during pregnancy, most of which was water weight that fell off entirely after two weeks. One night I sweat soaked the sheets, peed for five minutes in the morning, and it was gone! Additional weight loss I attribute to breastfeeding because it burns calories.
Lots and lots of calories.
At eight weeks postpartum, I’m five pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight. A weight at which I was happy. A weight at which I fit into pants and skirts without elastic waists. A weight at which I do not plan to work for right now.
Instead, I’m going to try to go to yoga every other Saturday morning because I’ve missed it immensely.
Instead, I’m going to eat Cool Ranch Doritos and Greek salads because I love Cool Ranch Doritos and I can tolerate leafy green vegetables again.
Instead, I’m going to spend my free evening hours between dinner and dream feed snuggling with my son.