Kat's Playbook: Postpartum

Showing posts with label Postpartum. Show all posts

No Poise for Me

When you look up the definition of Poise, it states:

1.        a state of balance or equilibrium, as from equality or equal distribution of weight; equipoise.
2.        a dignified, self-confident manner or bearing; composure; self-possession
3.        steadiness; stability

But what does Poise mean to me? PAIN. Absolute PAIN.

So leading up to the Big Birth Day, my sister-in-law reminded me that I should pick up some pads. Very. Large. Pads. Now, I have to admit that it has been since I was 12 since I last purchased or used pads, so I didn't really know what I was looking for. But I figured the bigger the better.

Here I was in Target, looking at all the different pads out there, when I very quickly decided on a box of Poise. Quick...because I didn't want anyone to think I needed Depends, nor did I want anyone to ask me when I was having my twins.

Fast forward to our new family of three back at home:

Gator Guy and my Super Mom both heard me yell out from the bathroom, "Get. The. Vicodin."

You see, there is a difference between sanitary pads and Poise pads. The difference is what caused me PAIN. The difference, is that sanitary pads just soak. Poise pads....PULL moisture. Yes....Think about it. Especially those mom's out there, think about it. And especially those that had freaking stitches like I did...think about it...and cringe. PAIN.

Posted in: Body after baby, Postpartum, pregnancy on Wednesday, December 2, 2009 at 3 comments

Shake my belly like bowl full of....bread dough

That's right. The moment is here. The moment I am going to regret....The moment I am going to post my belly 7 days after giving birth.

Let's just remind ourselves the before shot at 38 weeks...defying gravity, looking very octo-momish:

And now the 7 days after...

That's right, you can be officially grossed out with me. And what does it feel like you ask.... Bread dough. Mushy gross disgusting bread dough. And again, I ask you to please remind yourself of my rule #1. Because you have to be honest, if you saw the bread belly in public, you would think...aww, how cute!! I wonder when she is due??And then I would proceed to kick you in the shin. So again, please remember rule #1.

But you wanna know what I was the most excited about:

BEER! Ok, maybe that wasn't the #1 exciting part of post pregnancy, but that 5 barrel micro brew sure tasted great...Not to mention I was drunk after one beer like a girl at prom. But more importantly and hoping you scroll down from the bread belly.... check out this cutie at 7 days old:

Tiny Mr. T

Posted in: Belly, Body after baby, Motherhood, Postpartum, pregnancy on Monday, November 30, 2009 at 5 comments

"When Are You Delivering Your Other Twin"

So I have a rule. A rule that all men, women, and children should learn and follow religiously.

Rule #1: DO NOT ask a women when she is due, how far along she is, if she is having a boy or girl, or anything else to do with pregnancy UNTIL YOU HAVE CONFIRMED THAT HER BUMP IS A BABY BUMP!!

And trust me, this is very easy to confirm. If you give just a little smile...a little smirk, a glowing pregnant woman will smile back because she knows you have noticed that she is growing an exceptionally smart baby! BUT if she looks down at the ground, turns her body, or ignores you in away....WALK AWAY. Do not speak. Do not even gesture. This means that she is either not pregnant, or so ginormous and close to the end that she wants no conversation at all.

I was very close to violating my rule at Baby Gap, when I was about to ask the sales attendant when she was due. And THANK GOD, she quickly made a comment about her 2 month old baby. (Whew, that was a close one). However, this just reconfirmed my importance of the rule.

Rule #2, DO NOT ASK WHEN SHE IS DELIVERY HER OTHER TWIN

So here we were...on cloud nine...after 48 hours at home with our newest addition, and leaving our house for Mr. T's doctor appointment. Gator Guy and I stood proudly in the lobby waiting for the elevator. Soon, an Idiot-of-a-woman walks up and asks:

"Oh, how old is he?"
We both say, "4 days old.", (Damn we are good, already responding in unison)

Idiot-of-a-woman looks at me kind of funny and then asks, "So then did you have one twin and still need to deliver the other?"

WOW...surely she is just being sarcastic (and rude), and yet she didn't stop there...
We both just laughed not knowing what to say or how to answer.

Idiot-of-a-woman then asks, "No really, so do I take that as a yes?"
OMG - Holy crap... she was f-ing serious. Who says that?!?
I said, "Nope just one baby", biting my tongue trying not to laugh and thanking my hormones that I'm not bursting into tears.
And yet she was still not done...

Idiot-of-a-woman looks at Mr. T again and then asks me, "So....then is he yours?"
"Yep, he's mine, and I still have the baby bump."
She says, "Oh well, I guess it does take time for that to go down. Well congratulations."

Yes congratulations....congratulations to the Idiot-of-a-woman who did not get a kick in the shins, punch in the face, tripped in the hallway, or a bucket of tears as the hormones could have taken over. Congratulations to me for handling myself like an adult and just walking away...hysterical, and glad that Gator Guy was there to whiteness such an act of idiotness.