There are many things I don't know, like what's for dinner, anything celebrity related, or quantum mechanics.
There are a few things that I sort of know, for instance, when my husband is going to be home from work, what time the baby is going to wake up from his nap, or what my daughter's favorite movie of the week will be.
And then there are the things I know. I know that I just had a baby 5 weeks ago. I know that he is my fourth baby, second c-section. I know that I have a big rope of scar tissue I can feel inside me. I know that my 5'2" frame carried a 9 1/2 pound, 21 1/2" long baby. I know that my stomach muscles have been stretched beyond what should be possible, then cut open and sewn back together. I know I have 15-20 pounds to lose. I know it's ALWAYS taken about 18 months before I finish losing all my baby weight. I know I have a thyroid disease, lupus, and arthritis.
Yet despite all this knowledge, I'm incredibly frustrated that I'm not losing any weight. In fact, despite the scale glued to the same number for the past 5 weeks, I feel like I'm even fatter now than when I went in to have my baby. Now I know that it takes time to recover, especially after a c-section and a 4th baby, blah, blah, blah. I'm impatient. I'm annoyed that it's freezing cold outside and I can't take my 1 month old and 4 year old out to do my preferred form of exercise, walking (actually, I really like to jump rope, but my knees are too bad to do anything but walk). I feel like I'll never fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans, and I don't want to buy any "fat" clothes, even though I only have 2 pairs of "pants" that fit. One is a pair of black pajama bottoms and the other is a pair of super old yoga pants that have holes and paint all over them. And my boobs are falling out of the only bra I have (which was also a pre-pregnancy "skinny" bra-not that my boobs will ever be considered "skinny" by any stretch of the imagination. The underwire of my favorite bra snapped two days before I had my boy. In any case, all these things that I know, are not easing my frustrations. Like I said, I'm impatient. *BIG sigh*
Oh yeah, we renamed our kid Daniel Wyatt, we're calling him Wyatt.