Before I got pregnant, I wanted a c-section. I was terrified of a vaginal birth, like could not even fathom the idea. I even used to talk about how I was going to convince my doctor to let me schedule an elective c-section bc I was not about that human out the vagina life. Then, I got pregnant, and after seeing her move around on the ultrasound, I knew a vaginal birth was safest for her and that I wanted NOTHING to do with the recovery that comes with a c-section.

Here I am, 1 month postpartum from a c-section delivery, and I was right. I wanted no parts of this surgery or it’s recovery. Women aren’t talking about it enough. How horrible it is. How between the drugs and the trauma (I can only speak from unplanned) there is a chance you won’t connect with your baby right away bc you are high AF and in crisis mode. How insanely hard it is to care for yourself and your baby, when you’re being held together by sutures and tape. How you really do need a village if this is your delivery bc guess what, for at least a week, you can’t just “get up” the million times a day that your baby needs you and for another 5 weeks min. after that, life is physically hard. How real the pain is when you come off the pain meds and how there’s a chance you will experience some withdrawal symptoms bc narcotics are one hellava drug. How terrifying it is to take a shit or god FORBID you are constipated bc that is a side effect from the drugs or have gas bc that is a side effect of major abdominal surgery. How you need major rest to heal from that major surgery and how you will be getting none if you are breastfeeding. How this delivery is the ultimate set up for failure in the “how’s mom feeling” department: mentally, physically + emotionally. 

Cue James: Do you feel like you have postpartum depression?

Me: That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works! 

So, right now I really don’t care about a snap back. I thought I would, but I just can’t. I’m too busy caring if the way I’m managing to get out of the bed, off the couch and how I’m holding Selah while she eats and in general #MomOfBigBaby, is preventing my body from properly healing. And while I hate all this shit, I can’t help but be amazed by my body and it’s ability to bring forth this life force, provide for it and then return home. 

So, even on the days that I feel hella defeated, and that’s a lot, I draw strength from obviously being the superior sex and basically being magic personified, and it makes wearing depends for a month seem not so bad. Perhaps they are the cape to my incognegro superhero uniform.

Sending love to all the mamas hitting the fourth trimester hard AF. We are fucking magic. May you rock your depends proudly! And, sending some super special love to the mamas being held together by hella strong tape (seriously what in the hell is this tape made of!), who didn’t ask for this potentially shitting start to motherhood, but who are thuggin it out anyways, bc that’s what mamas do.
xok