A little over two weeks postpartum, I am discovering things about me I had forgotten. Like how I can actually put my socks on myself or how I can see past my tummy to my feet and gasp! I can actually bend down and soap my feet.
The learnings have mostly been pleasant and there is a certain joy to discovering things about yourself that you had forgotten. Then there are the other parts, ones that you struggle with. Like the infamous c-section pooch. As much as I have never been vain about how I look, this flab of skin makes me take pause. It makes me wonder if it will ever go away or it will remain as a relic of the one time I carried life within.
In the two weeks I have gone from being gentle with myself as I did anything that affected my stomach muscles to being a little careless. I have gotten back to running behind the twins and doing odd chores in the kitchen.
As the days pass, I realize I have adjusted to this new normal. One of being a parent to three kids. One of being a full-time mother and homemaker. I am yet to step outside the house but I suspect that is not far off.
As baby and I learn to nurse, I realize how painful it can be. I deal with these things that no one has ever mentioned before as being part of the mothering experience. As I grin and bear the toe-curling pain when baby latches, I realize how generations of women before me have done it and keep doing it.
On some days, I give in to the guilt and rue the moment I gave in to a c-section. Sometimes I wonder if by supplementing baby’s feed with formula, I am any less of a mother. Then I pull myself up and remind myself that one year hence, this will be in the past. In the grand scheme of things so long as my daughter thrives and is healthy, all will be well.
In the middle of the night when it is just baby and I in the encompassing silence, I give in to those postpartum blues and let a few tears escape. It reminds me that motherhood is not without its highs and lows. That the overwhelming joy I expect to feel is sometimes slow in making its presence felt. That falling in love is a process. That raising twins and a newborn is tough and I should cut myself some slack.
One day at a time I remind myself.
I step on the bathroom scale and feel a twinge of joy at the small victories. That’s how it goes here. A mix of emotions. Some high and some low.