Written by: Mindy September 18 2011 I went to the doctor the other day because of foot pain. My long-time doc told me I should wear shoes with arch support—and chuck my paper-thin flip flops. […]
Written by: Mindy September 18 2011
I went to the doctor the other day because of foot pain. My long-time doc told me I should wear shoes with arch support—and chuck my paper-thin flip flops. He said the pain was due to soft ligaments, even at 4+ months postpartum.
When I mentioned I never had this problem after my first pregnancy, he answered, “Yeah … well, you’re over 30 now …” He let his voice trail off as if to suggest being over 30 will account for every health issue I face from here on out.
Really, doc? I can’t say I care for that assessment. (By the way, I’m 31, so it’s not like I’m leaps and bounds beyond 30).
Then again … I wonder if he has a point?
I’ve never liked hearing women rant and complain about what pregnancy does to their bodies. It always makes me think they missed out on the miracle going on inside them because they were too busy complaining. Then again, maybe I just couldn’t relate before.
When Caden was born (I was 29 then), I faced a few physical hurdles … but they all disappeared pretty quickly. As in, within the first two months.
This time around, I’m still feeling a little bedraggled, physically. My foot-pain is just the beginning. There are things in my body that go snap-crackle-pop whenever I move. If I stand on tiptoe, my Achilles tendon sounds like a bag of popcorn in the microwave.
Then there are skin issues. Though my belly is shrinking, the skin below my belly-button is now ripply — like the kind you see on television when extremely obese people lose a lot of weight. Worse still, I’m afraid I’ll have a permanent fold of skin that droops from hip-to-hip across my mid-section. I don’t even know how to go about tightening that up.
I could go on, but you get the idea. Maybe it is because I’m over 30, or maybe I’m just not taking care of myself as well as I did before I had kids. Who knows? I’ll just say there’s a lot of frustration that whirls in my mind when I get dressed in the morning, endlessly scrounging for something that fits comfortably without making me look like a balloon.
Then again, that frustration is pretty easy to ignore. All it takes is a few moments of staring into Chloe’s bright, blue eyes, to think, “What the hell … every creak and crack and ache and wrinkle was worth it!”