My life is slowly beginning to return to me. For so long I've had to share my body with my daughter, and now we are finally becoming separate entities, and I'm returning to me. The first sign came on Christmas Day, when I got my period for the first time in 18 months. You may think that's not exactly a good present, but I was quite happy. A return to normality. A wonderful reminder that I am a woman, not just a mother. Four weeks later, I was thinking I might be pregnant again when it didn't re-appear. Two weeks later I was peeing on a stick, and thank God, I'm not pregnant...just hormonally challenged. No it actually waited until Valentine's Day to make another appearance. A festive period, and it's true, because there it was again on St. Patrick's Day. Now I'm confused. If following the holiday pattern, I should be ready to go again on Easter, but that's too soon. It could be May Day...but again too soon. I guess I won't panic this time if I'm a wee bit late, it may be holding out for Memorial day.
The other blessing to befall me, was on Mother's Day, my sweet baby, who is 10 months old, finally accepted a drink from a bottle. I have struggled to free myself from the shackles of breastfeeding since she was four months old. I didn't want to quit completely, I was quite happy to express milk into a bottle to allow me some freedom of movement, discretion in public or to cook dinner without hearing her scream the house down. She refused. Anything in a bottle was refused; breastmilk, formula or even yummy sweet (very naughty) diluted fruit juice. She would cry until she vomited, and ultimately I gave up trying to bottle feed and gave in, shackled; ball and chain...only the chain was made of my breasts. She now favors the bottle over the breast and I can only assume it's because I was starting to not supply enough for her demand. Aw poor thing...Hooray for me! I haven't breast fed for two whole days and I'm not leaking, aching, spiking fevers or anything. I feel great!
Yes, my enormous knockers are shrinking, right before my eyes, but I'm okay with that. It would be nice to be my old DD again (I've been an F for almost a year now) and I know I must buy new bras. Underwire ones that pull the slack knockers back into military line. I was in an aerobics class yesterday, and was horrified at how much they giggle now, shrunken in their nursing bra. I'm going to have to tape them back before they end up bouncing off my knees.
Here I am: bright red hair, breasts that are for objectification and not food, body under reconstruction and spirit returning in small bursts. The blanket of maternity is lifting and I can again peek out into the sunshine and take comfort in the world around me and not hide from it. I've been a cave dweller, but I'm now taking steps to come out and smell the fresh Spring air, and pull a few weeds from my garden (Although I did have to stop every few minutes to pull something out of the baby's mouth; a rock, a weed, bird poop...all those things I'll be sure to tell her boyfriend when she's 15) and it was nice to see my baby smile into the breeze, point at the tree and say "blushkah".
I don't yet know who the hell I am, and I don't think I ever will. I change too much and too fast. I think that's okay though, I've made my peace with it. I am a human version of Pointilism; I may not make sense on close inspection, but pull back a wee bit and you may just figure me out.