Thursday, May 15, 2008

Pregnancy... It can often lead to an infant: The condom broke part 4

I woke up, two days postpartum, nineteen years old, to find out that my A cup breasts had morphed into rock hard double D rockets.

I shoved Justin awake to show him. He refused to look at my episiotomy stitches but he was not going to sleep through the discovery of my leaking chest torpedoes. All the books and literature told me this would happen, but the reality of it is far different sitting on your chest than on the page. Nursing pads were a joke. I either put maxi pads in each cup or covered my arsenals with a bath towel. I smelled like sour cream for weeks on end.

I don't think I'll describe the joy that is going #2 for the first time after a first birth. It's nightmare material.

A pregnant teen belly marks you. It makes you a gossip topic. It makes you a social example. It has people questioning your values, your character, your maturity and the job your parents did raising you. The birth of a baby remedies this. It's baby powder scented hypnosis, like music, it soothes the savage breast. The people that looked at me from afar now wanted to look at my baby closely, hold him, coo at him. He healed the scowl just by his mere presence.

He was such a striking baby too. I'm not just saying this because I'm mommy but because it just happens to be true. He was born with black hair, dark eyes, and an overall calm demeanor. (And a wiry black hair in the middle of his chest...) He was a pleasant cuddler. He ate well, he slept well, and except for the occasional projectile vomiting, he didn't make much of a mess. I entered him into the town's baby contest, in hand me down overalls, and he won.

Because Justin and I had some foresight in talking about how marriage would still be a marriage after the baby come along, becoming parents while remaining newlyweds wasn't as difficult as it could have been. Our crappy apartment didn't become the land of baby, overrun with infant paraphernalia, which only gives the impression of success and love than actual success and love. Babies are simple and we lived simply.

It was also easier to procure birth control from that point on too. I was a married woman, a mother. No desk receptionist was going to call my parents and clear birth control with them. I had a Norplant inserted in my left upper arm, drawn to it's promise to protect me from conception for five years without having to remember much of anything. Offering to let people touch it was a an evil joy for me. The only thing I could compare that to today would be asking if you wanted to touch a wart with a curly hair growing out of it. You want to know what that feels like but, ewww, that's weird, ewwww!

There is happiness in not having to use condoms for sex when it comes to birth control. I'd learned a lesson, and besides, they chafe.

Tomorrow the last installment: "As far as boyfriends go, Paulie Bleeker is totally boss: The condom broke part 5."


  1. Did the Norplant make your skin stick out or something??

    Babies are always good to bring out the "social" in people.

  2. Hey Becky, I often weigh the pros and cons of early motherhood vs older. Sometimes I give points to waiting as I did, but I always go back to the thought that being a young mom might be a ton better. (I realize this is a generalization and not meant to be taken as blanketly true) YOu have energy, your body snaps back, perhaps your perspective is clearer--like you said, simpler. I know it depends on the person and situation, and I'm prob. romanticizing it, but I can feel the serenity eminating from the screen...sorry for the typos...very tired today.

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