One good thing

In all fairness to my dear doctor, she has done one thing for me: referral to physical therapy for my poor pelvic floor.

(If you're not one of those people who talks about other people's pelvic floors in a casual and open way, just read another post.)

At my last appointment, I mentioned the weakness and soreness I've had at different times since my first (rawther dramatical) delivery. I thought I might just have to wait for the resurrection for everything to be back as it was. I waited nicely for her to tell me to do more Kegel exercises. But instead, she referred me to PT.

Once a week I go to this nice lady, and yes, we do Kegels. And biofeedback. And perineal massage. And deep breathing. Then, I dutifully do all my exercises at home, twice a day without fail. Sometimes.

It's only been a few weeks, and I've made some progress. So if you've had a baby (or not) and things just don't feel quite right, go find a nice lady of your own and get to work. Sometimes you can do a little better than just waiting for the resurrection.

Cookies, cont.

My OB looks at my weight gain on her little chart. "Wow, that's a big jump." Well, I said, I've been using cookies to deal with mood swings. I've decided to switch to exercise.

So how much weight have I actually gained? I queried.

Eighteen pounds. In 25 weeks.

I'm thinking I should develop diabetes, or pneumonia, or cancer, or something, and give the poor woman something to do. Because when a healthy person comes before a highly trained physician, I think they just get lost and don't know what to do. Of course, a good friend just got the same meaningless lecture from her midwife, so who knows. Mom says we should all go back to the farm and have Ina May take care of us. Sounds like a plan.

Compensating

When I think the LP is going to take a nap but doesn't, that's permission for me to eat an unlimited number of chocolate chip cookies for reasons of Frustration Management, right?

Right.

I'm glad we had this little talk.

I can answer that...

...with a hymn.

Q: To celebrate the 174th anniversary of the founding of the Relief Society, should we have three kinds of meat pizzas among the twelve pizzas we're making from scratch, or just two?

A: Hymn 307, penned by the Poetess of the Church, Sister Eliza R. Snow. She writes (in part):

That the children may live long, and be beautiful and strong,

Tea and coffee and tobacco they despise.,

Drink no liquor, and they eat but a very little meat;

They are seeking to be great and good and wise.

Don't worry, I'll chop extra vegetables to compensate.