We have had no internet for almost 2 weeks. Our computer died, fizz-boom-dead! But my husband fixed it, somehow, slowly, for free. He is awesome! I am back.
So, my dear freinds, how I wish to give sunny and poetic tidings to you all, on this, the week that I turn "Nine Months"--but I really dont know if I am that kind of person, I am sad and honest to admit. I love my baby, perhaps more fully than I have ever loved any not yet born baby, but alot of really ugly, ironic, sad and very unexpected shit has occurred in the last month, some emotional, lots physical, which, in combination with my pain and frustration in these last weeks has really really left me unable to write things about feeling like a ripe and glorious peach, or composing little sonnets to the sweet baby who dances under my heart--I am sorry. I LOVe that stuff, I love to read it, I love pregnant women who can write it, but I know there is a place here in blog world and Real World for sadness and fear and disappointment in our bodies and the day to day drudgery of waddling from couch to bathroom to couch to bathroom, each step grinding our separated pubic bones against each other, gasps as the little knives that poke poke poke us in the cervixes, as the reality sets in that today is another really, really pathetic day for our other children, and that it will be long and it will be pain-filled and that no one really gets it and that there isnt anything anyone can do about it and that all there is coming up is WAY more pain in the form of trying to birth vaginally over what feels like broken bones, or having another cesarean. @#$%$#@ Can I get an epidural now, just for fun? A spinal? A fricking Vicodin? A milkshake, not sugar free?
What a depressing mother! Arent I happy for my baby? Arent I looking forward to the orgasmic birth? Wont it be AWESOME? Dont I love being full of child? Isnt it all so beautiful? Isnt grinding bruised constant pain so fantabulous? Isnt it magical hoping your kids dont run into the street because you cant catch them anyways if they did? Isnt it glorious being so thirsty for a tasty drink but only being able to have DISGUSTING diet pop or water? Isnt throwing up every morning again so wistful? (This started again last week. Yay)
Look, how can my life, my truth, my reality not count as much as the golden poem mamas? Why do I want to not even publish this post? Maybe because as much as it is Hip and Righteous and Kick Ass for books about this stuff to come out, i have real people in my real life who completely freak out when I get honest. Always have. BUT HELLO This is motherhood, too, because I am a mother! A mother with dislocated bones and diabetes and anemia and exhauation and 4 kids who think I am Satan---this is what is going on right now. You clicked the link to see what was going on with me and this is it. If you want glossy lies, go pick up a copy of some schlocky magazine or go watch some idiots on television measure each other's stomachs with toilet paper.
Anyhow, I look forward. I look forward and this is what I look forward to.
This is what will be Awesome. Glorious. Golden. For me. My children. My family.
Seeing my baby angel doll girl. Holding her. Kissing her. Staring at her all day all night all day all night for months and months and months of co sleeping and nursey nursey nursey land. Walking. Breathing. Eating great heaps of luscious foods, pastas with fancy cheeses and fresh from the garden spinach and deeply colored soups and crusty breads and fruity icey smoothies and watermelon and strawberries with no heartburn, no protein counting, and please god please, no bleeding my fingertips onto a glucometer every 2 hours. I am looking forward to being nice again, kind and loving to my other precious children, and enjoying mamahood as a whole and sane person, a person who is not crippled or confused or haunted or worried about how I will survive the day, the week, the birth, the postpartum. A Mom with five kids. 2 bigs, 2 littles, and a baby. A real live working breathing walking talking HUMAN. It is so hard to imagine right now, but thank God I have done this before and I do remember, I do.
I am looking forward to being strong and providing milk and kisses and laughs, mac and cheese and bandaids, lifting the boys in and out of their high chairs, shaving my legs, doing my toes, did I mention walking? Oh, the walks in that kick-ass shiney new red double stroller that I so coveted and finally got, oh to walk walk walk with my babies, eat and walk and breathe. A Mother of five. I am so ridiculously blessed, but I dont feel like it right now. I look forward to that appreciation replacing this misery, to the poetry coming back to me, to rebecoming Me. To many women, newborn time is anything but--but for me it was always alwasy better than pregnancy. Always. Exponentially. My boobs already hurt and I dont sleep now anyways...
I really do know that these plans and dreams might not sound like anything remotely close to life-with-a-new-baby. You might think of overwhelming exhaustion, sore breasts, incisions and stiches and endless bleeding, loss of self, loss of time, feeling like you went from being a full ripe Queen to a drained and droopy dishrag, from being the center of attention as the Pregnant Mama to being a lowly cow, alone and aching. But for me, as much as I get that whole thing, and as much as I truly will devote my life to women in these situations someday, that is not what it is like for me, to have a baby. Never has been. Not a single one of these FIVE pregnancies has been like that for me, and I can really only write about my own experiences, as different or odd as they might be from the average, the norm, the whatever. Pregnancy has never been a time of Special Joy Pedicures and Artsy photographs of my belly with a single rose, nor have my newborn days been necessarily hell. This is my truth, this is my life, and here are the times when I "shine" and here are the times when I so, so, do not. I dont sleep now, but to be not pregnant and holding my little dear baby--oh I am so looking forward to it, and really, believe me, not in the regular wistful way, but like I do not know how I am going to possibly make it another month kind of way.
Even after the 2 c sections, with disappointments in my births, and my family, and my short sightedness and my naivete, and my friends and my body and my doctors and my nurses and society in general, I look back and also remember laughs and outings and pictures and videos and holidays and first trips out with the new baby and it was GOOD. So good. SO much better than split coochie bones and vomiting and swelling and insomnia and restless leg syndrome and acid reflux and itching skin and nightmares and acne and lack of oxygen and worry worry worry......
I am not feeling well at all. I feel like dog crap. I am holding onto some little shard of guilt that keeps me from laying in bed all day and just shaking some Doritos all over the floor and hoping the kids find that to be a suitable breakfast and lunch. Because I love them and because I know that to everybody else, I am just Joy who has a big round tummy hooray yippee arent pregnant mommies so cute. But honestly, I am totally just hating this whole thing, and cannot ever express to anyone what utter bullshit this pubic bone thing has been for me. I guess my analogy to my husband will have to suffice-- the other day I told him to just imagine that he had a broken bone, that was not set, that he had to walk on, here's 4 kids, two are quite young and crazy--see you tonight at 6! He said he was so so sorry. Theres really nothing else to say.
I love my baby and I cannot WAIT to be a Mom again. I am really really good at being Mama Joy and so so not good at this.
Wishing I had beautiful poems for you all,
but knowing that my voice is just another truth that someone will want to read,
thanks for all the awesome well wishes on my last post--I got to read them all today--