August 16th, 2019
Today was a hard day. Probably the hardest postpartum day I’ve had.
Sleeping for 5 hours a day spaced out in one 2 hour nap & one 3 hour nap 8 hours apart doesn’t help.
I can’t stop crying today.
My c-section scar hurts so bad & I wish it would just heal.
I can’t drive anywhere & it’s 107 degrees outside so it makes leaving the house for some fresh air impossible.
Plus if I were to leave I’d have to be home in an hour and a half to pump.
Speaking of pumping, I have two blisters on my nipples that make pumping uncomfortable. But I can’t not pump or I’d end up engorged and clogged.
I’m tired of people bombarding us asking to come over every single day. My baby, who I am so protective of, is getting passed around like a bag of chips.
I don’t want to entertain right now. I don’t want to spend time I could be bonding with her talking to you.
I don’t have postpartum depression, but today was a hard day.
And that’s okay. It’s okay to not be okay.
I don’t feel guilty for having a hard day.
Because when I look at my baby girl I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I would have 500 surgeries and go 30 years without any sleep just to have her.
But today wasn’t a good day.
And I can’t stop crying.
I wish I could get some sleep during the day but the anxiety I have from taking my eyes off of her for 5 seconds is too much. I can barely go pee let alone take a nap. Heck, I can barely type this without glancing up at her every few seconds.
Plus anytime I go to the bathroom, I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I cringe.
My hormones regulating is making a show on my face. Acne everywhere. Face, neck, and back.
And when I go to shower I get to see my new stretch marks all over my legs & butt.
And don’t even get me started on what my boobs look like.
My body hasn’t felt like my body in months & I’m starting to get to know it again but I feel like we’re complete strangers.
I don’t even recognize myself right now. I honestly feel like I don’t even know myself.
No make up, hair in a messy bun…for the last three weeks… and wearing nothing but baggy t-shirts and oversized sweats.
How do these girls on Instagram make postpartum look so effortless?
Home from the hospital with a full face of makeup on, their body almost back to normal, and looking like they slept for 20 hours?
How do they get back to exercise so quickly when I’m 3 weeks PP and the most I’ve done is walk to the mailbox or get up and down to feed/change her.
I think that’s where a lot of depression and sadness comes from in these postpartum days.
Comparing ourselves to these beautiful, inhuman women on Instagram who bounce back the next freaking day.
Who are too grateful or too beautiful to have a bad day.
Who obviously don’t need any sleep and didn’t just yell at their husband in an exhausted, hormonal rage..
HOW ARE THEY SO PERFECT?
HOW ARE THEY SO ENERGIZED?
She’s not. And she’s probably struggling the most.
So I’m going to close Instagram and stop comparing myself to her.
And I’m going to let myself cry.
And I’m not going to feel too guilty for being mad at my husband. Who has been the most incredible and wonderful but gets a few more hours of sleep than I do.
And I’m going to let myself have a pitty party every now and then. Allow myself to wallow in pitty over the pain, the confinement, the changes to my body, the hormones I can’t control.
And then when I’m done I’m going to remember to love myself.
Because my body gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for in the entire world- my sweet baby girl.
And when I feel like crying, I’m going to hold her tight because as much as she needs me to comfort her, I need her too.
We’ve been a team the last 9 months. Never apart and snuggled close to each other. My heartbeat soothing her to sleep and her kicks reminding me of the beautiful blessing inside my belly.
So although I’m going through these changes, it’s worth it. And something I would never trade for the world. I would go through it 100 times over just to have that sweet girl.
But today wasn’t a good day.
And that’s okay
I forgive and love myself.
Good or bad days, motherhood is the greatest blessing of all. So bring on the blistered nipples, confinement, exhaustion, and pain because when that little girl rest her head on my chest, all of it goes away.
I love you sweet girl.
And I love myself. I give myself permission to feel the emotions I need to feel. I give myself permission to have a bad day. To be in a bad mood. And to be a little over dramatic.
So today wasn’t a good day but tomorrow is a new day.
And honestly every day I wake up with that sweet girl and wonderful husband in my life, is the best day I could ever ask for. Good or bad, in pain or not. This is a blessing and my body is freaking badass.
And so is yours mama.
We got this.
We are strong.
We are beautiful.
We are the inhuman, super women.
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