Dear, Baby L. Thanks for taking me to a whole new level of what the f*ck.

Dear, Baby L.  Tomorrow marks four weeks.  Four weeks since you were yoinked out and carried around a draped sheet (I had a c-section) to my proud (read: rather disgusted) exclamation, “He’s all grey and gross.”  Four weeks that I have been proudly (for real this time!) proclaiming, “Well, he’s still alive” when people ask me how things are going.  Four weeks since our star – ahem, our rainbow – was born.  Four weeks since he destroyed any idea of what I thought my life would be like.

On May 31, I was smacked in the face with the biggest reality check that I’ve ever received: some higher power decided that it was a good idea to make me responsible for a human life.  I know.  I’m shocked too.  You’d think that the previous 9 months would have helped make this realization a little less sudden.  It didn’t.

One night, I told M. that I still find it weird that we have a baby.  I think my exact words were: “It’s like ‘Shit, I have a baby.  I don’t feel grown up enough to have a baby.’”  He proceeded to point out that I am 33.  So now I’m old and immature.  Thanks.

Let’s face it.  I know nothing.

This tiny human doesn’t come with an instruction manual or guide, or even just a set of basic do’s and don’t’s (other than the glaringly obvious “don’t shake him”).  In fact, he came with a whole lot of “every baby is different” statements from family, friends, my doctor, and of course, the ever-so-useless world wide web.   The learning curve has been steep (like, excessively so) and everything seems to change from day to day.  One day I have the perfect angel child; the next day, the spawn of Satan has entered the household.

Who am I kidding?  The switch occurs within minutes.

To make matters worse, I haven’t been able to just hop back into exercise (my happy place) which – in combination with the all-day wailing baby, sleep deprivation, and total feelings of inadequacy as a parent – leads to the all-day, don’t-get-out-of-my-pajamas-and-participate-in-real-life Kang crying fest.  Yes, it’s real.  And yes, it’s ugly.

My body has changed in so many ways through pregnancy, baby-yoinking, and recovery that I don’t even recognize myself.  While it is slowly but surely returning to “normal,” it may not ever truly be what it was…or at least not anytime soon.


I never posted GROWING baby bump photos, but here are some of the shrinkage 1, 2, and 3 weeks postpartum.  It helps that my boobs are enormous so everything else looks smaller.

Although I’m a good 6 lbs. LESS than my pre-pregnancy weight (Baby L. literally sucks the life out of me), I have more body fat and less lean mass than I’d like to admit.  And after today’s run…“run”…it would seem that my cardiovascular capacity has deteriorated to “maybe you’ve smoked a pack a day for a month” status.


Pre-RUN and in a new CVG tank (because I deserved new gear after 9 months of puking and major abdominal surgery).

But for today, I think I’m going to focus on the fact that – at 4 weeks postpartum – I got out for a run.  It was only 2 miles.  It was as slow as my 36-week pregnancy jog-waddle (for the record, still under a 10-minute mile!).  But it also made me feel NORMAL and a little more like me than I have in weeks.


Post-run snuggles with my mouth breather, who isn’t crying for once!  (Knock on wood!)


~ by yomisskang on June 27, 2018.

One Response to “Dear, Baby L. Thanks for taking me to a whole new level of what the f*ck.”

  1. This too will pass! It is amazing how quickly your life changes – and then it is never the same again until the kids leave the nest. But, perhaps I am racing too quickly ahead. Just try to enjoy each day. If you can get 1 or 2 things done in the day, that is a massive accomplishment! Be kind to yourself and have NO EXPECTATIONS!

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