And I am not speaking of Alanis…
I carried this little man around for 9 months. My back hurt, I was miserable.
Go through child birth. Get my body back, right? Well relatively speaking.
And now he has colic and he is strapped to me in a Baby Bjorn.
I look and feel like a fucking kangaroo.
And that’s the irony.
ETA: There is NOTHING and I mean NOTHING that compares to the feel of spit up dripping down between your flattened, deflated, sagging boobs.