Getting pregnant and having a baby was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to my body.
The good: because I got fat, I had to start exercising regularly to lose it, and now am in the best shape of my life.
The bad (how long do you have?):
I got fat. Although I managed to lose the weight, plus some, my body isn't the same. I swear my stomach was flatter before, even though I weigh less now. What kind of crap is that?
My boobies have not only shrunk, but plunged to their death. They are just so sad now. So. So. Sad.
My hips pop all the time. I am guessing this is due to how much they had to spread to allow for the passage of my son's gigantic head. I can never sneak up on someone again.
I pee my pants. Not all the time, but more than I am comfortable with. A lot of moms have this happen when they laugh too hard or sneeze. Mine occurs when I work out, which I now have to do. Every single day during warmups at boot camp, while doing jumping jacks, I have to run to the bathroom as fast as I can. The problem is, by the time I get there, it is already too late. Then I get to hang out in my pee pants for the next hour. I find some comfort in the fact that I'm not alone; see the video below.
I have wrinkles. Crows feet, forehead creases, smile lines, I got 'em all. Now, I understand part of this is just getting older, but I didn't suddenly age 15 years in the last 16 months....or did I?
I had a grey hair. I say had because I yanked it from my head with ninja-like speed. It was wiry and about the same length as my son's life. Maybe there is no connection here either, but the timing is suspicious.
I sprained my ankle. You may say, "that doesn't make any sense," but stay with me for a minute. You see, the birth of my son has led to a reduction in my consumption of alcoholic beverages. This lack of consumption has led to a lower tolerance for alcohol. Also, gaining weight while pregnant and no longer working full-time has led to a lack of coordination in high heels. These two things together, combined with mass quantities of alcohol and a pair of heels, led to a fall, which sprained my ankle.
As I write this, I am thinking I will print a copy every year on Davis' birthday so he can be reminded of the sacrifices that were made so he can live. I think he will really appreciate the part about my boobs.