I doubt I actually am nearing my breaking point … I’m sure one day — perhaps years from now or maybe in just a couple weeks — I’ll look back on this day and laugh.

Laugh at how desperate I felt … how at the end of my rope I thought things were nearing.

Perspective is like that. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, The Universe shows you that yes, you can and oh, by the way — what you thought was hellacious before?

That was nothing. A mere ripple in the pond ever so briefly.

I hesitated to come here. I feel part guilt, part avoidance, part holy shit I better take this brief time I have before he is ready for yet another feeding and either sleep or put on a load of much needed to do laundry.

I’m struggling today, People. And while I know there will be more days of struggling, and also more days of easy, it’s still hard.

I’m in the midst of an identity crisis. Suddenly, I can’t remember pre-FOH me.

Who in the hell was that girl that did yoga and walked her dog four miles every day? I mean, WHO has that much time?

Did I really have that much time? I must have, right? If I was able to actually do these things.

Will I ever get back to that point? Will these relentless feedings ever end? Will I ever feel like I don’t want to bawl my eyes out hysterically and break things at the same time?

Am I going to be me again? Whoever that even is?

Maybe I just need a good cry, like Baby J. All loud and frantic and downright earth shattering. Maybe getting it out is the answer. Even though I don’t know what precisely I’d be getting out?

Don’t mistake my words — I am not unhappy. Not at all. I have a gorgeous, healthy son and I thank The Universe every single day, multiple times a day.

It just seems, similar to pregnancy, that I have these uncontrollable surges of such strong emotion that overcome me and I don’t know how to process the emotion.

I go to breathe, and am met with such shallow breaths. Did I know how to breathe before? I must have with all that yoga. What happened? Where did that go?

I was so focused and all consumed with having FOH and preparing that I never — I don’t even think once — stopped to think of life after having him and what that would or might entail.

The reality is thus:

I stare at a flabby stomach that hasn’t had flab anywhere on it for years. It’s not just flab, it’s also a layer of fat. That’s the only way I know how to put it.

I’ve always been able to feel my hip bones … I can’t even see a hint of them now. Everything is bigger.

And while I’ve dropped 18 of the 24 pounds I gained, it’s as though things have “shifted” on my body.

I know, I need to be waaaay more easy on myself here, given that I’m only 16 days post partum but I’m impatient like that. Duh, things are going to shift. I just pushed a kid out of me.

But, again. My impatience gets the better of me.

No one told me I’d have temporary loss of needing to pee feeling. The only reason I go to pee is because I time myself. That heavy bladder sensation? Gone.

McDreamy told me this is because my bladder and uterus (and other organs) are moving back into place now and I had so much baby pressure for a few months, so it’s trying to recover. This also might have something to do with my close-to-urethra-tear during birth. There’s a lovely thought for you.

No one also told me that it’s normal NOT to see your milk. I thought my milk hadn’t come in because I assumed I’d see it flowing from my boobs.

Not the case here. The only time I see my milk is when it dribbles out of Baby J’s mouth. Good news is, I don’t have to deal with leaky boobage.

No one told me how downright relentless it is to feed a new born. Relentless, I tell you!

Feedings are timed from the start – not the end. That means when Baby J is feeding every two hours, it’s really every hour and a half. Or, in actuality, even less — because by the time I feed, change and burp him, I’m working with maybe an hour I have before it’s time to do it all over again.

That hour means I’m quickly shoving food in my mouth or trying to get something done. Neither of which usually happen because I can’t keep my eyes open and fall asleep.

No one told me how hard babies are able to suck on nipples. Did you know they pull the nipple out TWO INCHES when feeding?! I had no clue the strong suction Baby J was going to have and how f-ing painful it is every time I go to feed him and he intially latches on.

Holy shit. He clamps down so hard and starts sucking so ferociously, it takes the breath right out of me. My entire body tenses up and I have to remind myself to start breathing. Thankfully this is only for a minute tops but it feels a hell of a lot longer.

No one told me I’d be an f-ing emotional wreck. I should have known, given how out of wack my hormones were during pregnancy and now, good God. It’s kicked up yet another notch.

There’s chemicals I’m producing that I never have before and not producing that I always have before.

The majority of the day, I’m fine — because I’m too busy and too sleep deprived to think about how “not me” I am.

But then something small happens, as is typically the case,to set me off and I find myself wanting to cry or start yelling.

Like with all things, this is just a temporary phase. This, too, shall pass.

I just hope it’s rather quickly on the passing part.