Not So Hot on the Hormones

I have written before about hormones–the ones that make you sappy, weepy, and hysterical. But it turns out the hormonal changes that happen after you have a baby can have as many physical side-effects as emotional.

Up until a few weeks ago, the only hormonal changes I was experiencing was resulting in tears and more tears. But an e-mail from a mommy-friend warned me that there could be more to come. She wrote:

“SWEATING… do you have that? Hot flashes from the hormones leaving your body? I was in shock and had no idea what was going on in the hospital until they explained that one to me. Nothing worse than getting up after only an hour of sleep in the middle of the night AND being drenched!”

So, I never got the night sweats right after giving birth, but mysteriously about a few weeks after giving birth I started to smell differently. And by differently, I mean not good. My normal smell was altered and no amount of deodorant seemed to tame it.

At first I thought it was just something my hyper sensitive nose could detect. However, my mom confirmed that others indeed could smell the new, pungent me. I had gone for a walk with baby and then picked her up. It was warm out, but not outrageously hot. We got into the car and I said, “I stink.” She replied, “You do.”

Wow. How’s that for honesty?

Sadly I thought, “Hey, that’s better than night sweats.” (Those came later.) But the other really weird thing was a skin rash.

After another walk with baby (maybe it was the same one where my mom confirmed that I, indeed, did stink–I can’t remember), I got in the car. I took a quick look in the mirror–my neck had been a little itchy–only to find a wild-looking red rash, very much akin to a heat rash.

Now, I’ve had heat rash before. It was a sunny day when I took my walk, but the sun at the River (we’re near Canada for god’s sake) in June had nothing on the sun in the Dominican Republic in March the last time I got heat rash.

I popped a Benadryl and just wrote it off as a one-time thing; I really hadn’t been exposed to a lot of sun of late.

Then it happened again. And again.

So, this is weird. I’m a person who tans, damn it.

A few days ago, I mentioned this skin irritation to a dermatologist friend. She immediately fingered, as I suspected, the sun as the culprit. Other than popping a Benadryl here and there or lubing up with anti-itch cream, her prescription was to get out in the sun. Weird that a dermatologist would prescribe that.

But the worst were the mosquitoes.

It was one of those perfect River nights, complete with to-die-for sunset and my family decided we should enjoy a glass of wine on our limestone terrace. Sounds absolutely perfect, right?

Under Attack

So, I nestled into one of the super comfy faux-wicker chairs. Baby was asleep so I was ready to savor a glass of some delicious chardonnay. I took one sip, only to be interrupted by a buzzing mosquito.

Okay, that’s annoying.

But what do you say when you’re swarmed?

I’m so not joking. Within three minutes of sitting down, mosquitoes were everywhere. Buzzing around my face, pricking me through my leggings, biting me on the bottoms of my feet.

“It’s because you’re lactating,” my mom said.

Okay, I’ll accept that. Breast milk is after all super sweet and sticky. But I was still under attack.

My step-dad busted out the bug spray and I sprayed myself down with some kind of DEET without hardly a second thought about bug spray on baby. (It’s so worth the view, I assure you.)

These damn bugs were immune. They were swarming around me.

I was totally squirming, covering baby so he didn’t get hit, and trying to fend off attacks.

But, it was too much and they overcame me. I gave up and sat myself and baby on the couch in the living room, happy to just yell through the screen door while my parents offered them up for sacrifice.

Friday Night Highlights

Well, we made it. Baby P and I have survived our first five days on our own. Momma didn’t cry once and baby only really had two major meltdowns, which were not only completely understandable but also confined to the privacy of our own car. I consider that a major accomplishment these days–one more than deserving of the two Miller Hi Lifes I treated myself to during mommy-and-me happy hour on Friday.

What the week lacked in excitement at the beginning certainly made up for it by the end of the week.

Thursday I was up at 5:15am so I could get myself and baby ready to go by 6:30pm, so our housemate could drive me out to the Toyota dealership to pick up a loaner car. (I swear I am the only person who can drop a car off to have one repair done and two weeks later, the car is still in the shop.) We got home and I needed to go to the bank, so I decided since it was so beautiful out that I would take the wee one out in the stroller.

The bank experience was such a breeze that I decided to take a spin through Target since it was across the street to pick up a few Father’s Day cards and see if I couldn’t find a cute tankini to cover up the post-partum paunch this summer. (I was unsuccessful at finding a new bathing suit and yet somehow I still spent $80 on stuff that all fit in the basket under the stroller–how is that possible?) We made it home just in time to meet the contractor who’s building us a deck next week before jumping in the car to go to the hair salon. I know what you’re thinking, and, yes, it was an emergency. You know it’s bad when you are talking to your neighbors on your front porch and one of the ladies says, “Looks like you’ve gotten some gray hairs since you became a mommy.” (True story.)

Friday was just as hectic. I took what I would call the scenic tour of Ft. Myer as I drove up and down the same stretch of road looking first for the clinic and second for a parking spot. Baby’s two-week check up went very well–he’s up to 9.3lbs already, if you can believe it–but we had an abominable wait at the pharmacy/dispensary thanks to a computer system failure that had me on edge for more than an hour. Not only was I expecting the baby’s eyes to pop open at any second and his mouth start opening and closing like an expectant baby bird waiting for something delicious–this would’ve been bad because I hadn’t totally screwed the top on the bottle I stuck in my purse and ended up with a bag full of breast milk–but it’d been three hours without nursing or pumping and my boobs were hard as rocks. I was so uncomfortable and in need of instant relief that I ended up having my first public display of breastfeeding in the Andrew Rader Clinic parking lot. (Obviously not a highlight of the day.)

From there, it was off to the Toyota dealership to pick up my car. (I loved seeing that not only did the mechanics burn up my driver’s seat while trying to repair my broken sunroof, but they also did a number on the steering wheel.) I got home in just enough time to do a quick pump before running like mad over to our condo to show it to a prospective new tenant. (She took it! One less thing to stress about over the summer.)

Throughout all this running around both days, baby did fantastic. He pretty much slept everywhere we went. The trick was loading him up with a lot of ounces of milk a good 15 to 30 minutes before I needed to be somewhere, so he’d slip into a nice food coma for a few hours at a time, allowing me to take care of business. The bottle was much more effective in getting these kinds of results, thanks to the faster flow nipple. Just taking down an extra ounce kept him sleepy and happy for just the amount of time that I needed.

We did have one major meltdown each day, both times when we were on our way back home. Poor thing was no doubt starving and so ready to get out of his car seat by 5pm. I know I was. With all my errands, I hadn’t had time to feed myself. Both days ended with me shoving about 8 eight Oreo cookies in my face before making a nice nest for baby and me in front of the TV for the night. Not exactly the kind of Friday night I’ve been accustomed to having during my seven years in D.C., but one that I felt pretty darn good about. I may be able to do this whole parenting juggling act after all.