Do you remember when you were really young and your body did things like flip flops and backbends? Well, I did a backbend last week to show Joe that his mom was hip and pretty much broke that hip. I’m 29 going on 65, people. My body has changed in lots of annoying ways since having Joe and Noah.
I was told when you get pregnant one of the few perks is that you pretty much turn into Rapunzel minus the whole tower deal. I can’t speak to this because right in the middle of my pregnancy, I went batshit hormonal and chopped 6 inches off of my head and then said, “And dye it red, Maestro!” I was in denial up to my eyeballs. I was wearing (p)leather jackets, lifting heavy boxes, dying my hair red, and sporting a baby bump. People were probably like,”wtf is going on there?”
So, not sure about the pregnancy beauteous hair myth, but I can speak to going borderline bald after having Joe and Noah. It is one of the most infuriating things about my physical appearance that isn’t getting any better. Every time I wash my hair, I have to say goodbye to handfuls of the stuff. Later when I convince myself to brush it, a mound will be left on my bathroom floor. I wake up in the morning and Joe is covered in it. Making breakfast in the morning, I have to put it up or guess what we are eating? Shelby’s strands with a side of oatmeal.
While hair loss is annoying, it’s not painful. A lot of the ways my body has changed can cause me pain. One specific pain that I get more often than not, is a piercing pain in my back; right where my epidural was inserted. I know, I know. I opted for the epidural and it was totally worth it, but I was unaware that the effects would be long lasting. After some research, I have read that it can take well over a year for your back to recover from an epidural. Thanks, science. So, I am currently in the waiting line.
The piercing pain seems to be triggered when I have long days on my feet, which as a teacher or a mom, is every day of my life. It also hurts if I lean back extensively on it. Note the first paragraph mentioned a backbend. I am apparently a masochist. That was an insanely dumb idea. Real cool, Shelby.
Along with me backbending all over my house, you will also see lots of slouching. I have become an excellent sloucher. Weird posture is something that comes with the territory of motherhood, but isn’t something that is in all of the parenting books you read.
With a newborn, you end up looking down like ALL the time. Your neck gets sore because that baby you had is pretty darn cute and I kept thinking, “He really was in there.” You are leaning over constantly changing diapers, changing clothes, giving baths, or generally just staring at your kid. As baby grows, there are new weird adjustments for your body like picking (a much heavier) baby up and that causes a different back pain. When they start to want to walk, you will inevitably hold their hands to help them practice causing additional weird back pain. If you take a bath with baby, you will slouch over to help with washing. Slouch life. Breastfeeding has also caused me to be an avid sloucher. Lots of weird positions, especially late at night when there’s no way I am striving for even “ok” posture.
My stomach is different, too. I won’t harp on this too long because I know from experience no one wants to hear the skinny girl complain about feeling fat. BUT, guys! My stomach is different and it’s different in an “I had a kid” way. My belly button becomes an innie or an outie depending on how bloated I am and I have some flub. It is the kind of flub that you are secretly proud of. I look in the mirror at it and I don’t really feel too self-conscious because Joe is inevitably right there tugging on my leg. Tugging at me, but reminding me that he’s why that squishy is there. I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine. Joe and belly, both of my squishies.
Now what you’ve all been waiting for…The Vagina Monologues. My lady parts have changed in the most hilarious and embarrassing of ways. My vagina has seemingly found her voice. It has become the American Idol of vah-jay-jays. But really, it talks now. Like too often and I don’t know how to shut it up or control it. Ever since Joe changed the ground work of my vagina, I queef ferociously during specific times of the day.
As I mentioned before, Joe and I used to take baths together. If that’s weird to you, this will be much weirder. Water seems to get trapped up in there during bath time now and I guess later, queefing is the only way it knows how to expel that water. I get out of the bath and it sounds like I am having a diarrhea episode down the hallway. It’s not just when water comes into play, but if air gets trapped up there, it sounds like I have held in my farts for a few years. I’m convinced it is my body’s new mating call. The worst part is, I can’t control it whatsoever. I just end up laughing a lot and being like, “Damnit, Joe.”
Not shocking by any means, this is by far the weirdest bodily transformation I have experienced. The actual makeup of my vagina completely changed shape for awhile after pushing a kid through it. Sounds scarier than it is because what are we to men without our perfect vaginas? Nags, mostly. I joke, but guess what? Your vagina works pretty much the same afterwards, but for me, like a LONG time afterwards. After having Joe and hopefully Noah, my lady parts stopped producing symphonic noises around 8 months out. So, don’t rush it. Recover, please. Blame your low sex drive on the baby attached to your breast or the dogs laying on your legs. Better yet, you could just “Shelby” it and completely kill the mood with your new vagina farts. *Drops the mic*