But alas, everything is much easier than my mind prepares for.
I adore my midwife. Like, I want to be friends with her and have our husbands be friends. And maybe our dogs, too. We talked for a long time about my rapid-fire birth, which cloth diapering detergent we use, the fact we'll both turn 30 next year, how we're both Type A and want to plan our lives to the month.
And when I left I kind of wanted to say.."so, I know we don't get to see each other again and you totally just checked out my stitches in an awkward location, but I dunno do you want to..uh...well....you know....meet for happy hour?"
Instead, I said "see ya in the spring for my pap." Because that, kids, is how you make friends.
- I've lost 30 pounds. I have six to go. The second most alarming part of this is, I gained 36 pounds in nine months?!
- My iron levels which previously had dropped from 13 to 7 are back to 13.7. This is partly attributed to out-patient iron infusions but mostly due to my mother force feeding me raisins, red meat, malt-o-meal and beans.
- I am allowed to run. Resume the obsessive research on finding my first race.
- My stitches are completely healed.
- And the best news? I am the fastest birther she's seen. Seems only appropriate I get my picture with a gold star in the office lobby.
It feels good to have it done, though. I'm no longer a patient recovering from birth but just normal Sarah, figuring how to take care of a baby, be a moderately-sane wife and do some poopy diaper laundry on the side.