I’m not pregnant! Everybody drink!

When I was pregnant, I couldn’t wait to be un-pregnant. Never mind the fact that I’d finally have my baby (one I’ve wanted since I was practically a zygote myself), but I could do a ton of glorious things like eat whatever I wanted and drink margaritas and be able to see my feet again. One year ago today I was lying on the couch, dry-heaving, just wanting to get my body back. So I thought I’d celebrate by writing this post:

Things that are awesome about NOT being pregnant:

No more random gagging.
For the first three months of pregnancy that is all I did. At least morning “sickness” would have been understandable, because that’s what pregnant women do. Right? They have some slight-but-tolerable nausea in the morning and then they get over it and go to their prenatal yoga classes or whatever normal pregnant women do. For me, it was more like this, all the time:

Not cute.

I pee less.
When I was 38 weeks pregnant, I literally peed every half-hour. My full-time job was just peeing. It was totally futile to even leave the bathroom at one point, because I’d just be back in there, peeing, ten minutes later. At one point, after an OB visit with my husband, I peed right after we left the doctor’s office, waddled out into the parking lot, and announced, “Um, I have to pee again.” For real. Now I can’t even remember the last time I peed, like God intended. 
I can exercise like a normal human again.
I think I ran a total of once when I was pregnant. I had to go to the store for some groceries and I thought it would be uber-smart and not-stupid-at-all to jog my big ass to the store. You know, to get exercise. I started off like this: 
Yeah, I’m all healthy and shit!

And by the time I got to the grocery store, I looked like this:

I CANT BREATHE

I ended up sprawled on my back outside of the grocery store entrance for ten minutes because I got a massive cramp in my side and just could not go on. I spent the rest of the day recovering on my sofa. It’s amazing I didn’t die during childbirth.

And no, I haven’t really exercised since giving birth, either (unless you count that one time I played Just Dance.) But my point is that I could probably jog a couple blocks now without feeling like I needed to call an ambulance. That’s always a good feeling.

I have the ultimate-pain trump card.
I gave birth. That’s right, fools. I pushed seven and a half pounds of baby out my va-jay-jay and that gives me license to WIN EVERY ARGUMENT AGAINST MY HUSBAND EVER. Oh you have a headache? Yeah that must hurt. Probably not as much as pushing a baby out your vag, but whatever. Aw, your back hurts? My back hurt for fourteen hours when I was pushing a baby out of my vag. Aw you have a papercut? Do you know what an episiotomy is? Mind blown, bitch. I win.
Anyone else’s fingers hurt? 

For the record, I got an epidural. So I guess I don’t have the ultimate trump card.

I can eat so much glorious sushi.

I probably have some kind of vitamin deficiency, because I have cravings for sushi every single day. And not healthy sushi, like the locally-grown, fresh, premium-cut kind you’d probably find in Japan. I like the mayonnaise-drenched, deep-fried, tempura-stuffed rolls that are slathered with fifty kinds of raw, fatty fish. American sushi. Things with “monster” and “godzilla” in the title. Stuff with FAT and MEAT and SAUCES. Raw fish aside, this probably would have poisoned my unborn baby based on the sodium and fat-content alone, so I abstained. It took all of my willpower, but I stayed away from sushi for nine hellish months. And then I made a sushi run THREE DAYS POSTPARTUM. I’m getting hungry just typing this.
(As a side note, I can’t even comprehend people who order cucumber rolls. It’s like a non-food. I literally don’t even see it when I look on a sushi menu, that’s how much of my time I would like to waste on cucumber rolls. Cucumber rolls remind me of that scene in the Phantom Tollbooth when everyone eats Subtraction Soup, and the more they eat the hungrier they get. I guess technically I could have eaten sushi during pregnancy if I ate cucumber rolls, but I also would have turned into the Hulk and smashed everything in sight out of hunger-rage.)

Blandy McYuckerson

But the primary reason I’m so glad I’m no longer pregnant?

Put that tongue back in your mouth, stinker! 

Because I get THIS little person. And these little people are so RIDICULOUSLY worth it.

  

Baby is napping….

…and I’m starting a blog.

Well, that’s inaccurate. What I’m really doing is archiving all my old posts and starting fresh. This is my “new” blog.
I’ve had this blog for a while — since I was 20 weeks pregnant or so. It was a place to write about pregnancy, overcoming PTSD, politics, clawing my way out of student debt, and pretty much anything that popped into my head. Now I’m joining the ranks of mommy-bloggers. And by that I mean I’m still going to write about whatever pops into my head, except it will be slightly more focused on the baby.
As of today, I’m a stay-at-home mom to a five-month-old baby girl, June. I’m married to Lou, my amazing husband of eighteen months, who moonlights as an illustrator and generally makes me happy as a clam. We live with my parents, G and L, since we’re paying off loans and saving for a house. I’d like to write for a living, but for now I’m content with snuggling my baby all day and living in mommy-land.
Right now, June is playing on the floor and looking directly into my eyes as she fills her diaper. I’ve had time to shower, but I decided to watch an episode of Breaking Bad instead. So I’m slovenly, unkempt, and currently holding a baby that’s sitting in her own poo.
Join us.