Yesterday was the first day that I didn’t even once wish that I didn’t have a baby.

I’m doing the best that I can.

I believe it’s getting better,

A little better all the time.

Now that I have a child, I need a will. I can do that online, if I just set aside the time to do it. Part of the reason I’ve put it off is that I have no idea who to put as Sol’s guardian.

I have written many times about my best girlfriend. You remember, the one who wants children so badly and has had five miscarriages, three failed in vitro fertilizations, and most recently cancerous cysts on her ovaries? Sure you do because you read and remember all my posts, right?

Well, okay, even if you don’t remember her, she is/was my best girlfriend. See, I’m not sure. I didn’t tell her I was pregnant until I was sixth months along because a) I knew how much she wants a baby and can’t have one, and b) she knows how much I didn’t want kids. She seemed happy for me at the time, even told me, “[Summa], I always knew you’d make a great mom, but I never told you because I knew you didn’t want to hear that.” She threw me a baby shower. I asked her to be my son’s godmother and guardian, and she cheerfully agreed.

Then, I had the baby.

She came to see me in the hospital and arrived while I was in the shower. When I got out two minutes later, she said, “Jerry,” her husband, “just called. I have to go home.” Then she left and hasn’t seen either of us since. I’ve spoken with her twice, once to say hi and once to thank her for buying Sol an Easter basket. Beyond a little banter on Facebook, that’s it.

How can I “leave” my son to someone who has no relationship with him and whose relationship with me is spotty? !!!!

My only other girlfriend has a bipolar sociopath for a husband. She is here one week and back in Indiana the next because he can’t decide whether or not he wants to be a husband and a father to their 2 year old and 4 month old. And yes, this asshole started flaking out on her when she was 5 months pregnant and having severe contractions daily. She is an awesome mother, and we have weekly “playdates” where we sit and talk and watch our sons (hers is 10 days older than mine) lie on their playmats, but I have reservations about her husband raising his own kids, much less mine.

So, who does that leave?

Family? No, no, none of my or Fluffy’s siblings is right. Too different of attitudes and philosophies of living not to mention child-rearing. Fluffy’s sister is very similar to me, but her husband is too much like my ex-husband for me to be okay with them as guardians. My parents would gladly do it, but I feel like it is just asshole-y of me to ask my 70 year old father and 65 year old mother to take on the responsibility of raising my baby when they should only worry about how badly they are going to spoil him. Oh, and Fluffy’s parents are dead, but I wouldn’t want them anyway. They were drunks, and his mother was a mean, neglectful drunk who gave up on being a parent before he was even born.

No, the people I would most want to raise my son are people I know only through the internet! People I know more about and have more in common with than anyone I know face-to-face. People who I know only by screen names but trust more than my own brother.

What’s the solution, y’all?

It’s simple: I just can’t die until Sol is 18.

My dentist had told me that when his grandmother was having babies, the saying was that you lost one tooth for every child you had. See, a fetus is really a parasite. It lives off its host, its mommy, and if the host doesn’t provide it with the proper nutrition, it will rob her of it. Calcium is at a premium in any woman’s body, and in a pregnant woman, the teeth are the first to take a hit.

My dentist’s grandmother had 14 children and no teeth by the end of it all.

I had one cavity filled today. It was where I had one 12 years ago, so I think I did a pretty good job of providing my wee one with what he needed while he was sucking my life away in order to grow. And yes, I did think of him that way.

When I first diagnosed myself with uterine prolapse, I figured I could Kegel my way back into shape in no time. After an official diagnosis from my doctor and the news that only a hysterectomy would fix the problem, I gotta tell you, I went home and bawled my eyes out.

It wasn’t that I wanted more kids, it was just that a) I had lost control over the decision b) I was still an emotional wreck from having had a baby and my hormones being nutso c) I need serious surgery and have to deal with a protruding cervix until I have it.

So, I cried several times that day and night and a few more times over the next week. Then, what usually happens happened: I resigned myself that this was how things are going to be. Every night, I am going to have to poke my cervix back inside me in order to wash my lady-parts. Every night until I stop breastfeeding, I am going to have to lie back and wait until everything moved back into place so I could squirt estrogen cream inside my vagina. Every day, I am going to have to deal with feeling like I’ve had rough sex (which may sound great at first, but it isn’t when it persists) if I have to stand or sit for too long.

This is just what I do now without thinking about it. I know it isn’t all that horrible compared to what some other people have to deal with, but it still makes me terribly sad.

When/If you have a child, pick a hair style and facial hairstyle (if applicable) and stay with that until the baby is at least six months old.

Why?

Because Fluffy lets himself get scruffy over the course of the week, and when he shaves, the baby has a total freak out, like he has no idea who Fluffy is, crocodile tears, red-faced, clinging to me like a monkey. Keep in mind that Fluffy probably spends more time with the baby than I do.

So yeah, future parents…keep that in mind.

I did crunches.

I did 10 crunches, and I thought I was going to pass out. I broke out in a full-body cold sweat.

Let me tell y’all: there is more to getting back into shape after having a baby than just losing a bit of weight.