Language. It's a funny thing.

In my household, we know 3 and are about to know 4.

1. English
2. Cantonese
3. French
4. Sign language (going to learn for/with Oscar)

But that's not the type of language I'm talking about. I'm talking languaging. How you say things. What you say. The power behind the words you choose.

I've got to watch mine. My languaging. I've got to be really present and conscious. I've got a little one to consider. I want to be as clear and clean as I can be with my languaging while in his presence. Because I don't ever want him to think that something that is going on with me is his fault. Or is because of him. I'm sure that there will be tonnes that is, lol, but I'm specifically talking about two things that are going on with me right now.

1. not sure about more babies
2. my shitty self-image

#1: We're all in the know that I'm not sure about more babies. But it's VERY IMPORTANT to me that Oscar never ever ever ever thinks that it's because he was a bad kid, or a rotten baby, or difficult, or cranky, or it was an awful birth experience, or that he was unloved. Because it's none of those (especially the last two). It's simply because I'm afraid that I won't be as lucky the second time around. And then even THAT could lead him to believe it's his "fault", you know? So that's where I'm at with that.

#2: We're all in the know that I'm not happy with the way I look right now.

And it's more than just bad hair.

It's low self-image from the inside. It's bad body-image. I've never looked like this. I've got EXTRA SKIN. Ewwwww. I've got a dull, patchy complexion. I've got DIMPLES ON MY ASS. I've got a weird-lookin' belly button. I've got, yes, bad hair. And don't even get me started on my vagina. (Why the f*ck didn't anyone tell me just what happens with one's vagina after birth? WHY??????) And yes, I know, I had a baby 3 months ago, give it time and I'll lose the baby fat. I know all that.

But I'm still allowed not to like it.

And it has nothing to do with Oscar.

It just has everything to do with the fact that I've looked good my whole adult life, and now I don't. And I don't like it. And I'm not comfortable with it. I don't know how to be this size. I don't know how not to fit into clothes. I don't know how to be this size/shape/way. I know that I'll get back to normal. But right now I'm not, and I can't stand it. I look at recent pictures of myself and I just delete them. All of them. I'm just a hot mess.

I don't blame anything for it. It's just the way it is.

And I'm allowed not to like it. I'm allowed to not be comfortable with the way I look right now.

And so saying all of that, I have to make sure I watch the languaging around Oscar. Again, I would just be devastated if he ever ever ever thought that it was because of him. That my unhappiness with my body-image was even remotely because of him. I mean, I was up to 123lbs before getting pregnant and I was upset about it then... and there was nobody to blame but myself. At least with this weight and EXTRA SKIN, there's a reason for it... a natural reason... a beautiful reason. And it's supposed to be like this. As far as I'm concerned, there's a reason it takes so much time to get rid of it... it means I'm busy taking care of my son; too busy to worry about hitting the gym to work it off (who can get to a gym 4 or 5 times a week when exclusively breastfeeding and unwilling to use the on-site daycare?).

And yet it still doesn't mean that I have to like it.

Look at this face... how could he possibly be the blame for anything?

S.