Previously, my monthly newsletter had a section called "Your Monthly Baby" where I showcased a picture of my growing son. Now that he is not a baby, I write something about parenting instead, which I am posting retroactively here now. Subscribe to receive next month's essay along with book and music recommendations.
As promised, this is now my space to talk about parenting my soon-to-be three-year-old child (happy third anniversary of splitting myself in half!!!), which lives where the "monthly baby" picture used to be. This is a devastating loss for you, I know. My son is extremely cute. But his awareness of being photographed means he's reached a level of sentience where I should probably take over, and anyway, it makes more sense to talk about me experiencing him, since this is allegedly my newsletter.
Some fun things he's doing: giving thumbs-ups, saying things are "so cute" or "wow, beautiful" (he includes me in this, which is nice; can't think why I'd have any further body dysmorphia), trying his best to play guitar. Some less fun things he's doing: saying "mine," insisting the potty is too cold for his butt, dropping his nap. I used his nap (previously 2 or even sometimes 3 hours) to get most of the things done that I was able to get done throughout the day, especially reading. Not sure what I will do now!
Succumb to the horrors I guess. I don't see that I have any other option.
One thing I think people should have warned me about re: pregnancy and childbirth is that yes, your body changes after baby, but for me the bigger issue isn't necessarily being unable to drop the baby weight (nursing took care of most of that) but having suffered to a surprising degree from muscle atrophy; which is to say, specifically, MOM BUTT. I've always had a butt, which used to be kind of annoying for doing stuff like wearing clothes, even if some people thought it was great. But now it's looking very sad and unathletic back there, despite my 3 times/week running, boxing, and yoga regimen, which is already pretty ambitious. Tragically I think I will have to do weighted squats. I'm aware this is very stupid of me to complain about. Another stupid thing? I think I still need bangs to cover the awkward postpartum hair regrowth. Cosmic irony for all my shameless bang slander! It's what I deserve.
On the one hand, it's kind of nice to have recovered a sense of vanity, because part of what was so identity-rocking about giving birth was that I no longer thought of myself at all, or even possessed a concept of self. Everything about my life had changed, and so had I, to the point of being unrecognizable. So... maybe it's good, in a way, that I've become aware once again of my insecurities, since I have never technically known myself without them? Such is my attempt at a silver lining. I am myself again, and this bitch has always been a mess.
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