Then, one chilly October evening while I was sitting awake for the seventh night in a row trying to calm my newborn screaming baby, it came to me. This blog was going to be a way for me to keep my sanity.
You see so many "new mom" and "mommy" blogs out there talking about how wonderful and rewarding motherhood is. Very rarely do you see one and go, "Yup. She is being completely truthful." They seem to only focus on how great breastfeeding is, the repetitive struggles with their mother in law over what is best for the baby, or how great their kiddo was while they baked apple pies to feed homeless people on Thanksgiving. You get the drift. They all make me have a bitch please moment.
So for my own sanity, and the health and well-being of my child and husband, I'm going to tell it like it is. I will spare you not of my thoughts during the 3am diaper changes involving projectile poop, my personal frustrations during breastfeeding, or my insensitivity by not making baked goods to feed the homeless on family holidays. While this is my outlet to retain some of my sanity, perhaps it will help some other new mom who also has read those uppity blogs and wants to smack those happy-go-lucky pie bakers in the face. With a brick.
Okay, maybe not a brick, but the irritation at those women runs deep.
That is my adorable baby girl. Only a week old in that picture. Before I get any further I want to make it perfectly, and absolutely, clear that I love my girl more than anything else on the planet. I would kill, or at least seriously maim, anyone that tried to hurt her. No questions asked.
But, no matter how deep my well of love may be, it does not eliminate the frustrations that I've discovered come along with raising a child.
I'll spare the details of her birth because, really, if you've gone through it you know of the pain of which I speak and would rather not relive it. Ever.
Where I would really like to start this discussion is about the fear of going to the bathroom. No, not about the adorable little poop machine you have just brought into the world, but about the absolute fear of using the restroom. If after birth you had to have stitches you know the fear of which I speak. It doesn't even occur to you the first time you drag your tired, sweaty, battered body to the bathroom. But as soon as that first dribble makes contact with the suture area you know a fiery pain that you have never experienced before. The nurses don't warn you of this, they just leave a little water squirt bottle on the handrail by the toilet and assume you'll figure it out. Ladies, that squirt bottle is now your life line. If you leave the house, make sure it is in the diaper bag. Before you go to the restroom, make sure it is filled with mildly warm water. Never, never, find yourself in need of a pee without this bottle. The fun part? You will continue to need to give your undercarriage a shower at tinkle time, every time, over the next several weeks. It burns like the Phlegethon going into Tartarus. I don't think I will ever look at the bathroom without a quick spurt of fear ever again in my life.
What gets me is you hear about it being horrible to have a bowel movement of the firmer kind after birth. Honestly? It wasn't that bad. Why don't they warn you about what really hurts? The Terror of Tinkle Time. It could be a really bad B-rated horror film. Or one of those creepy children's cartoons about teaching kids to use the bathroom, but, that is a rant for another day.
In conclusion, fear the bathroom. Fear it.
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