Two awesome things happened on the weekend.
First thing has a one in 5 million chance of occurring. I actually managed to blow dry my own hair into a semi-submissive state (see amazing transformation, above). No mean feat given the 104% humidity and the vastness of my skanky tresses.
Secondly, not as miraculous but equally excellent, was that I managed to fit into my high-waist super-skinny black jeans. They were always ridiculously tight and for the first time they were almost roomy! I’ve been doing quite a lot of walking and really enjoying it. I think because I’ve actually got some energy and feel slightly human again after the birth of my second bubba.
Okay, so here’s where my point kicks in. I want to share a theory of mine.
Look, I know, chuck a rock and you’ll hit some loud-mouthed dickhead with an unfounded theory. And unsurprisingly, when I researched my theory, there was nothing in the way of credible science to back me up.
But anyway, here goes: I reckon it takes nine months for us ladies to recover from the birth of our baby.
It all starts when the baby comes out and there’s lots of shouting and sleeping and feeding and snivelling. That goes on for a few months. You’re mental but sort of prepped for it because everyone knows that with a new baby you’ll be lucky to get a snippet of sleep and you’ll just be their bitch.
Then there can be a wee honeymoon period where the baby smiles and rolls and becomes a real little person. They could even sleep a bit longer. Many of mummy’s aches and pains have gone and there is a whole lotta love flowing around.
Then I think a tough patch kicks in, at around 4 to 7 months. You think you should be feeling brilliant but something seems to go a bit off kilter. The baby can have sleep regression, they are probably eating some solids (which requires much frigging around with steaming and mashing), then have nugget poos and sore tummies. Then the teeth come. And if they’re on the boob they might start breastfeeding a bit less. For mummy, I believe the protective, heavy fog of baby-hormones lifts and can become more of a light mist (useless).
And then by the time they are around 9 months they are sleeping more and generally being highly entertaining. And perhaps doing things with some regularity, making life a little more predictable. That’s where I am almost at now with a very delightful little 8 month old.
But it was a different story four months ago. The “tough patch” manifested (with both kids) in some serious hormonal weirdness. This time around my lizard brain went into overdrive. I (the lizard) decided it would be a clever idea to start trying asap for another baby.
At 42 years of age.
While the other baby was a mere 4 months old.
Having had two miscarriages and complications that left me hospitalised.
With a high risk of multiple birth or chromosomal anomaly.
With two healthy, happy children already (for which we are mind-blowingly grateful).
With absolutely nil sex drive.
And most importantly, being married to a man who would rather flay himself with barbed wire than bring another mewling infant into the world.
Bloody stupid, unhinged lizard!
Luckily, about a month ago, the lizard went into a coma or, better still, I’m hoping it died a peaceful death. I’m now looking and acting a bit more normally. I’ve had energy in the mornings to do some high-five hill climbs. And my skin doesn’t look like a monkey has been biting it any more.
Ahhh. Thank you, body. Thank you for your stupendous healing and recuperative powers. I love you and I promise to be kind to you every day.
What do you think of this crack-pot theory? How long did it take you to recover from birth?