Got good food? I’ll make milk

It’s hard to keep track of all the different parts of my body that have changed. Never mind what’s changed back. Who am I?

The changes I want to keep, clear skin and slow-growing leg hair, are both no more. I’m a mom with a head of straight and curly hair. My leg hair is out of control. When I manage to have a shower and there’s time to wash my hair OR shave my legs, I prioritize my hair.

My feet have gone from a size 10 to a size 11. Looks-wise they’re the same. So no vanity issues. Size-wise I have a problem. I’ve never been a crazy shoe-shopper person, but I like them and I wear them. I’ve been a size 10 for 20 years. That’s a lot of time to amass a reasonable shoe collection. Now all I can do is look at it. Don’t get me started on my two-year-old ski boots.

My boobs are another story. They’re huge compared to pre-pregnancy, but not that big compared to other milk-filled boobs. They used to just hang out and keep to themselves. Now they’re acting like they’re running the show. They’re colluding with my subconscious mind.

The other night Captain and I pick up takeout. We get home and I take my shirt off. Our place is officially a topless joint. If I’m not nursing, then I’m letting them air out.

I chow down on my salad with spicy peanut dressing. It’s so good! I hear something drip on the floor, did I spill salad dressing? I look down. Nothing. I continue to devour my salad. More dripping. What’s happening? I look down again. Milk is spurting out of both boobs.

My oxytocin is flowing.

Captain rushes to get me a burp cloth. He tells me,

“I definitely don’t enjoy my food as much as you do.”





Numb the whole area and then bring on the intercourse

Baby Bop is 6 weeks old! And I’m 6 weeks postpartum. Yesterday was my doctor’s appointment that was hopefully going to give me the all clear, open for business, hello Captain. It did not.

Captain, Baby Bop and I all head to the doctor. The doctor comes into the exam room. She asks,

“How’s it going?”

“Good, but I’m still bleeding.”

“Ok we’ll check it out.” She turns to Captain and Baby Bop. “Will you step outside for a minute?”

Both of them have seen every part of my body very intimately, so what’s one more vaginal exam?

The doctor gets her exam on. She declares,

“You are still bleeding.”

That’s right. I’m not making it up. She continues to poke around.

“You look great. The doctor did a great job with your stitches.”


“It looks really nice.”

That’s a relief. I am curious about what a good job versus a bad job looks like, but I’m very glad I got the good job.

The doctor finishes my internal exam and tells me,

“You’re stitched up nice and tight. You might be tighter than before, but it’ll stretch out. If it doesn’t stretch out, we can always cut it open a little and restitch it.”


“We need to schedule you for an ultrasound to see why you’re still bleeding, so no intercourse for now.”

She hands me several packets of lube.

“When you do have intercourse, you’ll need these. Also because you’re tight you might want to take a Motrin ahead of time and use some topical anesthetic.”

Numb the whole area? I’ll be defeating the entire purpose of why I’d want to have intercourse in the first place. Aside from that one time when I wanted to make a baby and I am NOT ready to make another one of those.


Second blog since Baby Bop was born, the struggle is real

Baby Bop is 3 weeks old! Or she was when I started writing this post almost a week ago.

I told her she’s carrying it very well and doesn’t look a day over 2 weeks. She groaned. Mom jokes. Either that or she was pushing a poop out. That takes real effort. For both of us. I’m on stool softeners for 6 weeks and if I forget to take them, my butt reminds me very quickly.

Postpartum recovery is no joke. I know gazillions of people do this, have done this and will repeatedly do this, but at 3 am with spit up drying on my chest and poop pieces everywhere, it’s hard to imagine surviving until daylight.

I’m still bleeding. That’s normal. I used to sleep naked. Now I sleep in underwear with a giant pad and then shorts so I can look in the mirror and pretend I’m not wearing a diaper. I also sleep with a bra or nursing tank top because my girls are heavy, tender and leaking if I even look at Baby Bop.

Baby Bop is doing well. As far as I can tell. She eats, sleeps, poops, farts, spits up and cries to make it clear she doesn’t like getting her diaper changed, sometimes. She also doesn’t like to get dressed, which is hard because I’m a big fan of trying on multiple outfits a day. It’s her fault she’s cute.

We got home from the hospital when Baby Bop was 2 days old. When she was 6 days old, her umbilical stump was looking weird and her belly button was really red. We call the pediatrician. The nurse asks us,

“Is she acting normal?”

“What’s normal? I’ve known this person for 6 days.”

Now I’ve known her for 26 days. I have a better idea of what’s normal, but she’s still surprising me. Will she wake up at 3 am, 4 am and 5 am? Probably. Is there a chance she’ll also wake up at 4:30am? Definitely, but not every night.

My mom asks me,

“Is she a gift every morning?”

I’m not sure what hour of the morning Baby Bop becomes a gift. I do fall more in love with her everyday, so that’s in her favor.


As soon as she can hold her head up…