23 Weeks

Hi my name is Joanna and I'm wearing maternity clothes. At five months. Five months POST-PARTUM. This, just on the heels of squeeeeezing in to my pre-pregnancy jeans yesterday. And when I say squeeze, I mean squeeeeeeeeeeeze. Like Chris Farley doing fat guy in a little coat. Like pork in a sausage casing. Like a tube of toothpaste at high altitude. So yeah, I could brag and say I fit into my old clothes. But that would send the wrong message. That would indicate that my old clothes actually fit, or fit the same way they used to. Oh no. Not the way they used to. In a new way. A way that includes a muffin top. Or an intertube for a waist. A baby belly bulge. Not hot. Alex is sweet and tells me he doesn't notice. This makes me question his eyesight. And his judgment. Never again can I take his word - "You look great, babe" just lost all street cred. That said, I started biking to work again today! So yeah, can you tell where I get my motivation? Not from the pureness of fresh air. Not from the need to clear my head. Not because it "feels good to break a sweat." Oh no, my ass gets in gear only from the fear of getting fat or staying fat. Just when I was starting to think, "I don't look so bad for a lady who just had a baby - one who doesn't have the luxury of a nanny to watch my child while I center myself and re-connect at yoga or on a nice long run. I don't look so bad for a lady who just had a baby - and works fulltime without the desire to expend the last couple of hours of my day and the last few grams of energy at the gym rather than at home with my cherubic chubby daughter. I don't look so bad for a lady who just had a baby, compared to the average fat American." All that business about the weight "falling off" from breastfeeding? A bunch of bullshit, as far as my body is concerned. Then again, the fat on my hips has never had such a purpose before, and part of me is a little proud to know that it's going to good use, provising food for my calf. I put weight on slowly, and I'd lile to imagine that my body is naturally doing the same thing in reverse. If I did a little something something to expedite the process that would sure be nice. But in the meantime I'll enjoy wearing my stretchy-waisted pants for as long as I need.

Last week I saved a life. Did I mention that yet? Okay, maybe not so much as "saved a life" but helped a man communicate who has essentially been without use of his hands for writing and his voice for speaking since April. He's sort of like the guy with locked-in sydrome from Diving Bell and a Butterfly. Except I'm not helping my patient write a book. Yet.

The Bean is 23 weeks old today. I can't believe that means she's just a few weeks shy of her half birthday. How on earth has time flown by that quickly!?! A six month old is not a newborn, yet I find myself saying, "I just had a baby." How long am I entitled to that excuse?

I can sit up all on my own, even long enough for my mama to snap a photo!

Crack kills. My baby plumber. Like mother like daughter.