From the second I started dreaming about having babies, I just KNEW that I did not want to give birth via C-section.
I had many reasons but my main reason was that I had read and also felt that pushing your child into this world is the most primal and beautiful feeling ever (ja ja, this was before I even had an inkling of what labour pains would be like).
So come labour day, I was the crazy lady in the hospital gritting my teeth and grunting NO CAESARIAN, NO CAESARIAN, I WILL NEVER EVER HAVE A CAESARIAN.
Long story short. My son didn’t descend. I had to have the C-section and now…
You know how they have to cut through layers of muscle and stuff?
If like me, you’re a curvy girl… the ‘stuff’ has a considerable bit of fat in it. Fat that was fine before baby because it had a bit of muscle and the skin wasn’t stretched to it’s limit.
If you had surfboard abs to start off with or worked hard to get your body back, congratulations and stop reading here. If not.
You probably have the same problem I have now. There’s a bit of a tjoep thing happening and in extreme cases (which is what I seem to heading for judging by what I saw in the mirror this morning!) wait for it… a Caesarian flap!!! YIKES. EEK. HELL and DAMNATION.
I did a quick show and tell around the office and us fatties definitely have a bit of a tjoep/flap happening and even some of the skinny melinkys have their version of it happening. Hahaaha, not even some of them get away with it.
If you’re reading this and asking “Why doesn’t this fatty stop moaning and exercise and diet . . .?”
In the most nicest Capey way . . . Jou ma se . . .