Dear Uterus,

I apologise for naming every second week “Dear Uterus, Please Shrivel Up and Fall Out” (DUPSUFO) Week.

I do appreciate the good things about you:

  • you can grow babies: I know many women would envy my undeserving self;
  • on that note, you have grown big, beautiful, healthy babies: no NICU stays, no emergency surgery;
  • you have, with a bit of help from your neighbours, birthed babies without any need for interventions; and
  • you do a pretty good job of getting back to normal after birth.

However, I feel robbed. I tend to resent you. I know I have no right, but I feel like the only times we get along are when we’re growing or birthing a baby together. As soon as baby is out, we fight.

Let’s face it, you cry. A lot. Bloody tears. Sometimes big hysterical blubbering purges; sometimes lighter, quietly sobbing sighs. I accept the first six weeks post birth. I do. I accept that you’re “spring cleaning”; that you like things tidy; that you have to be ready for another guest, just in case. Nobody likes sleeping in an unchanged bed left by somebody else. But seriously, how often do you really need to do that? And couldn’t we take a year or so off? Other uteri do. I’ve heard of uteri that enjoy the vacation so much that their hosts have to wean their babies to send the message that they want the factory reopened. Can you imagine?

It doesn’t matter how much I feed my baby, or sleep next to them, or carry them; you act like it doesn’t matter. I know it does though, because we also don’t go back to “normal”: we either have long, unpredictable gaps between crying fits, or you have one every second week. Like now. The only redeeming thing about this is that it’s milder and shorter than when you keep things bottled up for ages. However, I dare not hope that mild is the new normal. I feel like I’m being lulled into a false sense of security.

I don’t blame you. Not really. I know there’s something wrong with me. My hormones are out of balance. My vitamins and minerals need more work. I know that what’s going on in my head and upsetting me is probably caused by the same thing as what’s upsetting you. I don’t like feeling this way while I’m supposed to be enjoying my baby. Ironically, blood is a huge OCD trigger for me. So having you act this way, especially during this first year, especially when I’m experiencing postnatal OCD, and one of the worst bouts of any OCD I have ever had… it hurts. It’s hurting me; it’s upsetting my family.

It doesn’t seem fair. I actually find myself envying men, wishing for a hysterectomy, or just wanting to die.

I don’t really want you to shrivel up and fall out. I’m sure that would make me freak out too. And I’m pretty sure this is just your way of helping clean the rest of my “house”. If you weren’t doing that, some other part of me would probably try to detox in some other disgusting way and I would regret every DUPSUFO week, or day, I ever declared.

But please can we try some other way? Or at least could you give me a chance to show you I’m trying to change? I really need more time between “episodes”. The skin on my hands — not to mention my water bill — will surely thank you.


Permalink Thursday, 20 October, 2011 12:36 am, by Mamma Email , 591 words, Categories: Anxiety & stress, Health, OCD ,

Blog makeover update

I’ve decided to stop trying to work out how to transfer this blog’s posts to the new location. Instead, these posts will remain here, and I will be starting a fresh, new blog soon. I’ll let you know when it’s ready, and where to look for it.

Permalink Monday, 17 October, 2011 5:28 pm, by Mamma Email , 47 words, Categories: Miscellaneous ,


Should sleep.
Should stay awake.

Should blog.
Should work on the new blog.
Should stop deluding myself that I have anything worth saying.

Should check email.
Should check twitter.
Should check facebook.
Should unplug.

Should exercise.
Should rest.

Should return those calls.
Should turn off the phone.

Should do laundry.
Should get the already-wet washing dry.

Should clean the kitchen.
Should organise dinner.

Should get those thank you notes written (baby gifts).
Should figure out how to celebrate baby’s first birthday.

Should think of everything.
Should stop thinking so much.

Should stop saying “should”.

Permalink Friday, 7 October, 2011 11:21 am, by Mamma Email , 95 words, Categories: Anxiety & stress, Babblings, Motivation, Thoughts, OCD, Depression, PPMADs ,

Exposing myself

I’m torn.

When I started this blog, it was supposed to be mainly for me, and maybe a few friends and family. I don’t want to be the kind of blogger that has millions of readers and is expected to come up with a masterpiece every day. At the same time, I sort of want somebody to read and care about what I write, and maybe even respond sometimes.

I realise I’m not the only person who has ever gone through this process.

I also realised, when I chose to participate in the link-up to Postpartum Progress’ Strong Start Day appeal, that I was putting my blog out there in a more public way than I ever had before. I almost didn’t. I’m afraid (what a surprise).

My fears seem to be:

  • not being liked (or my writing not being liked) and thus ignored or shunned;
  • being liked and having my posts publicised “too much” by others;
  • receiving no comments;
  • receiving comments I can’t handle;
  • not writing as well as other bloggers and feeling stupid for publishing;
  • not keeping up with expectations (my own and readers’);
  • sending stuff out that I can’t take back.

See, I can’t even decide which side of the fence to sit on with some of those.

And still, I’m working on this blog makeover idea. I’m agonising over silly little details like:

  • Do I want to keep the blog name?
  • Should I change it?
  • What should I change it to? I’m still quite attached to my butterfly and cockatoo themes.
  • Should I change my twitter handle to match?
  • Should I go through the hassle of transferring all my old posts to the new blog? (looking like a big job, from what I’ve managed to find out)
  • Should I just leave this blog as an archive of sorts, and start fresh?
  • Should I change the layout completely, or try to get the new one to look similar?
  • Should I just choose a generic layout that avoids using my limited coding skills, thus ensuring future upgrades are hassle-free?
  • Can I design myself a decent header to replace the clipart butterfly and cockatoo I “borrowed”?
  • Is it really so bad to keep the clipart? After all, I did choose free ones, and I’m not making money from my blog.
  • Are all of these questions really that important???

And I wonder why I can’t just write.

Permalink Friday, 7 October, 2011 12:50 am, by Mamma Email , 397 words, Categories: Anxiety & stress, Big questions, Health, OCD ,

New shoes

The Man decided he really, really needed to go and buy himself new sneakers tonight. We determined that it had been almost three years since we last bought any, for both him and me.

His were bad, but mine were worse. They were so worn out that I had gone back to wearing the older sneakers they had replaced. I had practically lived in those things, had been walking several kilometres nearly every day, and they had doubled as my bike riding shoes. No, I’ve never invested in “real” cycling shoes. Those sneakers were my everything shoes. We have both needed new ones for a while, but hadn’t dedicated any time or money to the cause.

Problem is, I still have that pathetic fear of, well, everything. Walking into a shoe store would take all of my mental energy, and I just don’t have that much to spare.

So The Man asked if I minded if he just bought some for me. He thought they’d have the details in their computer system from last time, but they didn’t, so he rang me. Sometimes being a compulsive hoarder pays off: I still have the shoe box.

I was kind of hoping for something with a touch of purple. But I have big, fat, wide, unladylike feet, and apparently there’s not much of a market for purple men’s sneakers. So he arrived home with the next best thing: white shoes with black, silver and gold trim.

And sparkles.

Permalink Friday, 7 October, 2011 12:16 am, by Mamma Email , 246 words, Categories: Anxiety & stress, Bike, OCD ,

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