Call me crazy but I’ve never let having a baby stop me from going about my life. Sure, I try to take the time necessary to recover and do my best to take it easy those first few weeks but life goes on and while I can expect (or beg) other people to keep things running smoothly, the reality is it’s usually quicker and easier to just do it myself.
I remember going to the post office with Honeybun when she was a few weeks old and being mid-morning in the neighborhood we lived in at the time, it was flooded with a long line elderly people. And being before the days of the automated machines, I was stuck in that line with my first baby precariously in the sling, trying to also manage my small package. The sweet lady in front of me asked about the baby as she tried to poke and stroke her. When I said she was a few weeks old, the woman instantly changed and scolded me, “in my day, we weren’t allowed to take a baby out of the house before 6 weeks.” I politely smiled and said “well, I have things to take care of and that is why I keep her close to me and away from prodding strangers.”
Each baby has gotten harder to stay home with. With Sugarplum, we had only a few weeks back in the States before returning to Ireland so found ourselves out at the mall when she was only a few days old. With Doodle, Honeybun was in school and I was back to doing pickup within a few days.
I’ll admit, though, that I took it a lot easier this time around. I didn’t drive for the first week and only went out when crucially important like for visiting the pediatrician. Part of it was because I had a lot of good help from my parents but a lot of it was also because my recovery this time was a lot harder than the other three.
Part of it could have been due to age, or maybe his size, or the excessive amount of weight I gained (for me anyways) which caused me a lot of pelvic instability and leaving me feeling like my legs might just fall right out of the sockets (I spent that first week with my hips tightly wrapped and squeezed into the tightest jeans possible).
But most of it was that awful cold I had. And while it didn’t cause me problems during labor (thankfully!) it wrecked havoc on my recovery. The jarring cough totally jacked up my already unstable body causing major back and hip pain to the point where I often found myself in tears and sometimes even had to have hubby provide counter pressure to stabilize my back when I coughed. It was one of the most awful things I’ve experienced in my life.
But once the cold passed, I was like a new woman and have been feeling fantastic just as I did with the other three (something I credit to my undisturbed, intervention free births) and I was able to resume normal life.
Now when I go out, though, I often get asked how old the baby is and when I respond just a few weeks I’m told how brave I am. But I don’t feel like it’s bravery to get out with a newborn: I’ve got three other kids at home, getting out is a matter of survival and sanity, life certainly didn’t stop when this baby arrived!
So here we are, exactly 4 weeks later and on our way to Orlando (just don’t tell my midwives!)
