I was lying on the table with my feet in stirrups as my doctor was checking on my stitches two weeks after giving birth to my second child. I'd torn so badly, it had taken hours to stitch me up. In fact, I had to speak up more than once and let her know the Novocaine had run out and I could feel my vagina being sewn up like a teddy bear's arm. Let me tell you, busted stitches feel like a massage after that situation.
I had to go in to see my doctor once a week for four weeks to make sure everything was healing OK and I didn't need reconstructive surgery. She was lecturing me because I'd busted almost all my stitches. Who the hell knows when it happened.
Maybe one let loose when I was carrying my daughter in her car seat into the store because we needed food.
Perhaps it was when I was giving my toddler a bath, and I had to quickly get up and grab a towel because he got soap in his eye. He'd had a major blowout and the kid needed to be scrubbed.
Maybe I snapped a stitch when I was vacuuming because it had been a few days and dust bunnies were starting to take over my living room.
But it could have been when I bent down to tie my shoe because I like not tripping.
All I know is, I got in trouble after I had my firstborn for popping a few stitches, and if you can't keep your crotch sewn up after one child, how the hell are you supposed to do it after you have a second and simultaneously trying to keep their brother or sister alive?
We want fresh air. We need to get out of the house. But more importantly, we have other humans that depend on us to do stuff like feed, bathe and soothe them.
I guess we could all hire a maid, get someone to do our food shopping, take our kids to their appointments, have our partners take a few weeks off work to make sure we don't lift a single finger to keep our lady bits still so we can heal, but who can do that?
I certainly couldn't. Maybe digging in the garden four days after giving birth or going out for a slow stroll wasn't the best idea, but dammit, moms simply can not lie on their backs for two weeks at a time unless they don't have a choice.
We want fresh air. We need to get out of the house. But, more importantly, we have other humans that depend on us to do stuff like feed, bathe and soothe them.
We have homes that need to be cleaned, errands we need to run and some have to return to work way before we are ready. We are bound to pop a stitch or two and that's probably the least of our worries.
After I had my third child in three years and tore in all the same places ("only worse" according to my doctor), she stitched me up while telling me to stay off my feet so I didn't pop any stitches and could heal properly. In response, I did the only thing that's appropriate to do in that situation: I laughed and laughed.