Its a funny thing. When you’re extremely pregnant all you can think about is what it would be like to feel normal again. The last two months of my pregnancy I felt like a cow.
A cow with heartburn. My belly was huge. My boobs were huge–and leaking–and I fought the urge to moo (and/or growl) at anyone who wanted to move me.
I would fantasize about my empty belly and imagine feeling pretty again. Feeling thin and light. Feeling like a woman, and not a cow.
Welp. I’m here. Five weeks out, and I still don’t feel like a woman. I’m definitely feeling like a bone fide dairy cow. Sure, I’m a lot smaller, but things are hanging and leaking and I don’t really like it.
As women, we’re constantly looking towards the moment when things feel right. We know it’s out there, but as to when it happens or what constitutes it even happening is ambiguous.
So we put numbers on it.
When I weigh “this” much.
When I make “this” much money.
When I have “this” title.
When I’m friends with “this” person.
When this and this and this and this line up–I’ll arrive. I’ll be there.
The weight fell off pretty quickly after I had Coco and Chaucer. I mean, I didn’t look like Angelina Jolie or anything, but I could count on the scale going down a few pounds every week with just breastfeeding. This time it’s different.
I don’t know if its because the complications and surgery just slow things down–but, certain numbers are not really going down. Yes, I lost some initial weight with the birth, but the scale hasn’t budged since I came home from the hospital.
So here’s my thing: I don’t want to obsess. I don’t want to “measure” when I’m right by what number shows up on my bathroom scale.
Because even though things are rather chaotic right now, they are right. Life with a new baby and two kids is as it should be. Sure, I’m overwhelmed. I’m tired. But every day there is something redeeming and wonderful.
Like the smell of Tennyson’s head.
Or Chaucer asking me about cow udders. (The cow theme is very prevalent in our home.)
I get to smile, laugh, cry, and breathe with some really awesome people every day. So why am I looking for a number to make things right?
The weight-loss might take a little longer than I’d prefer, but for now I’m going to try and enjoy being a milk cow.
Moo.
Put the scale away, hide it, don’t get on it until your babe is at least 6 mo.! Enjoy those extra calories that are recommended for breast-feeding mamas!
Me too !!
Being a cow ain’t all that bad. I think with 10 babies I could say I’ve been a cow for the past 23 years. So come on over to my pasture, moo, and graze with me for a while. I could use the adult company ????
I absolutely love the humor you find in everything and your upbeat attitude is much appreciated! I am new to your blogs. Cant wait to hear more!
Adorable post. So happy to hear the contentment in there. So you are a cow – WOW. Brings back memories of 60 years ago and learning about 3 kinds of cows and their milk. Don’t know how accurate the info was, but you are the Jersey cow. Sleek and soft light brown – your time at the beach. They were gentle and gave the best milk. Bossy came to mind as a name but that is not you. I will settle on Buttercup (reference “Unsinkable Molly Brown”) She was sweet, wise and ever cheerful- like you. I love my Fridays mornings that I spend thinking about you and praying for you and your family. Thanks.