After a week and a half of wishing she would fall asleep anywhere outside of my arms, I find myself drinking coffee this morning, watching Cohen asleep in her swing, and using every muscle in my body, every ounce of my will, not to pick her up. I have forced myself into the office to use the time I have been praying for. This week was a heavy, as my father would say, and though Ive denied it since Monday, this week hit me like a fist and Ive been dragging since.
On Monday I had my 6 week gyno check up, which I was actually having done at 8 weeks because I missed my 6 week appointment. Not only did I weight 10lbs. more on the doctors scale then I have at home, but to top that off the doc told me I was completely healed, had no further restrictions, and could work out any way I wanted. I pretended to be excited but really I am still a bit afraid of my own body. I showed the good doc my stomach and asked about this flab, this flap of skin serving as the awning over my cesarean scar. I asked if this skin ever gets tight again, would the awning ever recede? He looked at me the way he used to look at me when I talked about my concerns regarding having Cohen vaginally, as if to say, I cannot be trouble to answer as this information will never apply to you.
Its hard to be just me again, to have no excuses for not caring what I look like anymore. Its hard to imagine loosing weight with a new plan, as my old plan consisted of getting broken up with and living off of cigarettes and coffee for six months. I had always hoped that my life would change, and now that it has I have to keep up with it, change too, engage myself in the process of becoming this person I imagine myself becoming but never seem to fantasize the process of how I become her. While working on this theory I drove through a Wendys, got a bacon cheeseburger and fries, parked in a shady spot and climbed into the back seat to eat my hamburger with Cohen. Fucking doctors scale, Ill show you
That afternoon Cohen had her two month check up, which meant she had 3 shots coming her way. Not to mention, I woke up that morning and realized she had either gotten into the cottage cheese while I was sleeping or she had thrush. How? How did my baby get thrush? I gave it to her, thats how.
I bought Lily Padz, the stripper pasties of motherhood, the plastic nursing pads that adhere to your breast only to create a breeding ground for candida albicans. In my selfish need to sleep braless I gave my daughter a yeast infection of the mouth, but the guilt was not a sufficient punishment, instead I am sharing in the infection. My nipples feel like someone is inserting straight pins into them every time she nurses. When she is not nursing it feels like a vice is being tightened on each tit, shooting a pain through my breast up to my armpit and through my shoulder. Let this be a lesson to me, this is what happens when I seek comfort in pasties.
While, in my opinion this worked out better than it does for other women who wear pasties (i.e. strippers who end up calling some seedy little pecker named Johnny, Daddy, while they snort coke off of his chest in his studio apartment and make wedding plans of one day being the lucky girl to marry their pimp thanks for making that dream seem possible Ice T). As of today, Cohen and I are sharing an anti fungal and recovering in slow motion.
Tuesday I took the baby and the dog to my mothers house for a visit. While downtown, on a friends suggestion, I bought Cohen her first exersaucer. Originally I thought she might have been too small for such a large toy, so I put her in one at the store and she flipped out! Ive never seen her get so excited for anything that didnt end with double Ds. I bought it and proceeded to take a millions pictures, hardly one came out because it was impossible for her to hold still. She is figuring out how to reach for things, which is not the same as touching anything she reaches for.
When we were getting ready to leave I loaded the saucer into the back of the wagon and put Alby up front with the air on to let the car cool. I went into get Cohen and mom mother helped me outside. I got the car all loaded up, opened up the back door and put Cohen in her seat. Between the time it took me to shut the back door and open my drivers side door Alby saw a cat in the neighbors yard and lunged at the passenger window. I yelled at him through the closed car and he settle down. I laughed for a second with my mother about his bad behavior and then went to get into the car and could not. I COULD NOT GET INTO THE CAR. When Alby jumped at the cat, he hit the passenger door lock, in a Volvo this locks all of the doors. So, not only am I destined to never loose my baby weight, not only did I give my daughter a yeast infection of the mouth, but I just let me dog lock my baby in my car, while it was running!
Immediately I am looking for something smash the windows with, all of the windows will need to smashed I am sure of it. Thank god my mother was there. She kept saying Calm down, well just call the fire department, as she walked around to the back to try the hatch door. I said, That wont work, it locks with all of the others, but for some reason it hadnt locked. My mother opened the hatch and I smashed my face into her chest and balled like 4 year old. The let down from that adrenaline was the most soul sucking horrible feeling I have ever felt in my life. I let my dog lock my baby in my running car. What the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK? Who am I? Who does this? I was devastated.
But, I will tell you who does this, all mothers. All parents. At one time or another, you fuck up. Its what makes you realize that the things you feared the most sometimes do happen, and they get resolved, and you go on. When I first had Cohen I had a dream that I locked her in the car accidentally, and it was 110 degrees outside, as it often is here, and I kept hitting the window with a rock and the window would not break. This dream horrified me. The truth is, you only have time to be horrified in your fears, not when what you fear comes to fruition.
We gain the weight, we give our children thrush, bang their heads into the wall, accidentally let them roll off of the couch before we realize they are old enough to roll, lock them in the running car with the dog, and so it easy to forget that we have the will to get back to our former selves via a new path. I have this kid on me in some way 98 percent of the time, its a miracle she has sustained so little injury.