I am seven weeks postpartum and I think I’m Hot as Hell.
At least I did for 2 minutes and 30 seconds today.
Today I left the house with one mission – to clear my mind.
Seven weeks with a newborn is exhausting. Plus I have a rambuctious toddler who thinks jumping on the couch singing, “No more monkey’s jumping on the couch‘, is funny. Funny for him maybe, not for my nerves, and certainly not for the baby I’m breastfeeding next to him.
I am also battling the post-baby-body blues. For some stupid reason I once again have this expectation that my body would return to it’s pre-baby self in seven very quick weeks. I’m not sure how that is ever a possibility when I did minimal exercise during my pregnancy and ate anything I could lay my hands on. I put on 16kg over nine months, so it makes sense that it will take nine months (at least) to lose it.
As a second time mum at seven weeks postpartum I only shower every other day, my hair is frizzy, my tummy still hangs out over the top of my pants, and more often than not I walk around with only one supported boob as I’ve forgotten to do up my bra after a feed. Yes, you guessed it, I’m that much of a lady!
And….. on top of all this, we are moving house.
Urgh! So much chaos in our life at the moment, and so little me time.
I have a very fortunate and happy life but sometimes when life is so chaotic it’s hard to see the forest for the trees.
With everything I have to do, I am having trouble shutting off my brain. I am always thinking about my next article, the plot of a new book, my kids’ immunisations, what to pack, when to pack, how many nappies I can fit in a suitcase, and whether I can replace white wine vinegar with coconut oil in the next batch of healthy muffins (you can’t by the way – vomit!).
I can recall this brain overload happening in my uni years when I said to a medical student friend of mine, ‘I think my brain has reached capacity”. She looked at me like the idiot I was and told me to stop being so up tight. She was right, of course, but it represents just where my head was at then, and where it is now.
So, today my husband all but pushed me out of the house for some downtime.
I grabbed the pram, put the headphones on and went for a walk to the IGA. Sounds a little anti climactic doesn’t it? You were thinking I was going to say something amazing like went to Canberra Ikea and bought all of the kids section, but no, I went to the IGA for bananas and milk.
Despite the destination, the journey was brilliant.
I put the headphones on and this song started playing… Go on, press play you know you want to!
Hot as a Hell – an old cr@ppy song, but I rolled with it.
For two and a half minutes I imagined that I was Hot as Hell
For two and a half minutes I imagined I had my sh!t together – not just my kick arse body but my entire life!
I imagined having a completely organised home, a well behaved kid, a tidy kitchen and vacuumed carpet.
I imagined my boobs were perky and didn’t leak every time a child cried.
I imagined I didn’t have stretch marks. I didn’t have a muffin top. And I certainly didn’t have that annoying sweat that forms under your boobs when you feed.
I was “Hot as Hell”.
The sun was shining. The birds were tweeting. It was pretty much the Sound of Music, and I was Julie Freaking Andrews!
And boy did I strut.
It felt good to ‘pretend’ for two and a half minutes that everything was bloody awesome.
Then when the song finished and I wheeled my grocery-loaded pram back home, I realised something – everything was bloody awesome.
Yes, I still had an untidy home, a stretched marked tummy, leaky boobs and a muffin top, but I had a healthy and supportive family. And my two year old is just so beautiful and funny, not in spite of but because of his cheeky monkey-ness.
So, this is what it feels like to be Hot as Hell – I reframed all the negatives to positives and realised they were “a few of my favourite things“.
How have you gained perspective in your life?
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