This first day of August.
Here I am. Complete with the Flag pin and the shaadi level makeup face.
Run upto Independence Day kicks off with being invited to a PTV show recording for 14 August as I left my toddler with daddy on “parenting” duty for three hours.
I heard him say it was babysitting duty to someone and it got me thinking how we don’t realise certain things engrained by way of social conditioning. He’s the last person in the world to insinuate anything less than love and parenthood to Sassi but me caring for her is always parenting and him caring for her is babysitting?
I’ll be honest even for me it’s a recent realisation. Maybe we need to start challenging the narrative and such notions fed to us by way of normalisation of patriarchy embedded in our society.
Whenever I leave her behind I don’t feel independent or free or even comfortable. Maybe I’m too new at this mom thing and not tired of all of it as yet? I was thinking it is a befitting Independence Day kick off for me but as time went by, my insides ached for her. Quite literally. I miss her hug. And our spit bubbles.
She has spoiled me to bits.
On a separate note, I seriously hope this is the last time in life that I am so unhealthy but I have to be honest. I am totally enjoying my baby cuddling with the extra tyres and snuggling into my twice as wide arm than it has ever been.
She doesn’t care that I’m fat. She loves the extra cushioning. Beckons me to think. Maybe that’s why it is THERE. To comfort the child. Of course in the process it kicks the mickey out of our health but look at that little lemon cuddling away with the pooch!
As far as my health is concerned I feel miserable. I don’t feel like eating. I don’t feel like walking. I don’t feel like lifting a finger. I am sluggish, my back hurts. My feet hurt and now I am sounding like a whiny kid. But honestly. I actually weigh more than I weighed when Sassi was inside me and I was full term. I keep saying this a million times a day because the health aspect is on my mind. I need to get rid of this but the fatigue that comes with it is pulling me down at the same time.
Thus I plan on starting off with upping my water intake from tomorrow morning. That’s my first step.
With THIS BABY! It’s a ginormous bottle of water that houses 1500 ml (1.5 L) water in it. If I even manage to finish one and a half fill of this a day, I’m good.
For which I have to actually fill it first. And then drink it up. Tomorrow it is!
Oh no wait. The FIRST step was buying this gorgeous piece of art …
* picture credits: Amazon.co.uk
The Limited Edition Lavender Rose Gold Charge 2.
… and beating F to 10,000 steps in London. On his Versa Fitbit (a much superior version). Matlab. What’s the use if you will only see the face of your gadget losing to an inferior gadget. Baaahahaha!
Back to reality Lahore, I’m hardly managing a thousand steps a day which is quite pathetic and needs to change.
Does anyone have a story to share regarding postpartum weight?
What happened (or is happening) to your body postpartum?
Did you embrace it?
Did you hate it?
What does your child feel about your body?
How did you EMOTIONALLY deal with the baby weight?
Would love to hear from you. Even if you have come across this post gazillions of years later.
