You sure as hell can’t trust me, then. I am at the end of my second period since having Kendall 10 months ago, and it is a damn miracle that I’m alive to blog about it. (That’s right. This blog entry will be all about my period, blood, and maybe a zombie or two. Ewwwww! I know, right? Consider yourself warned and don’t come bitching to me later if you are grossed out by what follows.)
I look at this as a PSA of sorts… a warning to all pregnant and new mommies that you too may become a zombie due to blood loss, and that it is actually pretty common (from what others have shared with me) to feel like your toilet bowl looks like the scene of a crime when your body finally does get around to getting back into the swing of things. And by things I mean your regular monthly period, not the super light, hey- that wasn’t so bad! one that you got the first time around.
As I blogged about earlier in my State of My Body Address, the first one at 8.5 months was such a breeze! What did I say? Something along the lines of Mother Nature apologizing to me for such a shitty postpartum recovery? That whore. Sure, that one was fab. No bad cramps, no horrible bloating, no horror movie worthy blood flow. Not this time around. Maybe it would have been better if I *did* develop a second vagina, to sort of spread the workload, you know?
Allow me to add that the second one didn’t come the regular 28 days later. Instead, it waited close to 60 days, keeping me in a constant state of PMS (because I FELT like I would be starting any day for about 30 days) and suspense. PMS and suspense are a bad combo, but pair that with the visceral fear that I was somehow miraculously pregnant, and it just was not a fun time to be had.
I finally took a pregnancy test around the time I figured I was about 2 weeks late. As I waited for the results, I prepared my speech for the Medical Miracles show that would surely be calling. I’m sure the Pope would want to know about my immaculate conception, too. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t have been immaculate, but my husband’s sperm could compete in the next Olympics if that test had turned up positive. Luckily for us and Michael Phelps, it revealed “Not Pregnant” after the time was up. I didn’t have much time to enjoy the releif of the news. Within hours I was bleeding as bad as I did the day after Kendall was born. It was so bad that I was actually digging through my bag of hospital ointments, creams and pads in a desperate search for one of the ginormous pads that worked so well back then.
I will stop myself there at the gory details, other than to say that perhaps this is Mother Nature’s cruel way of making women think that getting pregnant again is a rational choice over bleeding to death. I’ll admit, as I’ve spet the last week running to the bathroom every 1-3 hours (I’m not exagerating here, people, it was HEAVY for DAYS), I thought to myself, “Damn. It was nice to be pregnant and not have to deal with this shit.”
Maybe I’m on to something here. Maybe this is why Michelle Duggar keeps having kids. I bet she’s afraid to stop now. If this is what my body does after one baby, I can not freaking imagine what it would be like after 18! Yup, Michelle. You just keep on keeping on the baby train right on through menopause.
I’m off to eat a slab of beef in an effort to restore my iron count.
Kendall is 10 months, 1week and 1 day old