Tummy Tuck Week: No Arts and Crafts Allowed

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This week my friend Lacey is having a surgery many mommies consider but rarely discuss, except, perhaps with her girlfriends after a few glasses of wine.  Join Lacey as she guest blogs her journey here at Maija’s Mommy Moments. 

To start from the beginning please click here.

Dear John,
By the time you read this letter I will be gone…

Actually, by the time you read this blog it will have been three days since I had my surgery, but in reality, I am writing this the night before my procedure. It will have been two months since the day that Dr. Rockstar and I had our silent exchange of looks that said “Can you help me?” and he said “Yes I can.”

In anticipation of this date, I have done all of the preparatory ‘physical’ things that any self-respecting Virgo would do. Doctor’s note explaining that I would be off recovering from abdominal surgery for a few weeks, childcare lined up, house spic and span, garden weeded, a boatload of movies, recorded TV shows and books to keep me entertained for the next three weeks. Waxing/plucking/buffing complete and menus for four different take-out genres within arm’s reach. Then there was the surgeon’s instructions that I was to have completed by this date: Hibitaine soap purchased and ready to scrub down with tonight (to remove the naturally occurring Staph bacterial from my skin), I haven’t had a variety of vitamins or Advil/Tylenol for two weeks since they act as a blood thinner, I’ve removed my toe and nail polish so the nurses may look at my nailbeds to monitor my oxygen levels, and, perhaps the most dreadful, I bought extra-large Granny undies (which, by the way, was as much of a marital deal breaker as my husband suddenly deciding he wanted to support his parts in tighty-whities) so that I do not have a tight elastic waist band putting pressure on my tummy. Most importantly, I talked to my daughters. I told them that Mommy was having an operation to fix an ouchie in her tummy, and that I would have to be in bed for a little while. With kids, less is more.

Now if only my Virgo brain were as organized.

Well, obviously, I am excited. I hate waiting for ANYTHING, so I will be glad to have entered the next stage of this process. But also because I will be having my biggest insecurity removed in only a few hours. A couple of days ago, I had an e-mail exchange with Dr. Rockstar that went a little something like this:

Me – Is it ok if I write in marker on my belly before the surgery?
Him – I prefer that the skin be clean.
Me – What if I use washable?
No response from him.

But let’s just say, I could feel him shaking his head in silent-cyberland in confusion over my request. What? Like I’m the first girl who has ever wanted to write “See ya SUCKA!” on her flabby skin before he cuts it off. He gets to use markers, so why can’t I? Instead, I will settle for a private “I hate you, you stupid ugly flabby FLAP…. etc etc”.

In addition to being excited, I am nervous. Very very nervous. Surprisingly, one of the things I am least scared of is the pain. In part because of my high pain tolerance, but also because THAT pain is relatively temporary. The pain of spending seven years as a mutant is far, far worse. So, I will take physical pain over that any day (with a bountiful supply of Percacet, thank you very much!)  My biggest fear, right now, is how to get from my car, to my second floor bedroom 24 hours after I have been cut in half, WITHOUT hurting myself. I’ve had two c-sections and it takes a while to be able to walk after that, and we are comparing a three-inch incision vs. a fourteen-inch incision. Next fear would be, how do I cough/sneeze/laugh without tearing one of the stitches used for my muscle repair. You see, after the fourteen inch incision is made, he peels back my skin to my boobs, then sews the two center strips of abdominal muscles back together (since mine are sooo lax and flaccid after my pregnancies), next he pulls the skin down tight and cuts off the skin that falls below my incision line. It’s the muscle repair work that apparently hurts for months and months, and is the easiest to rip a suture.

Other than the few surgical and recovery fears, the bulk of my concerns are non-physical. The biggest fear? Judgement. I worry about being scrutinized for not dieting/exercising it off. I worry about being scrutinized for not having results that people were expecting. I worry about being scrutinized by my husband for having a large prominent scar from hip bone to hip bone. I worry that I’ll scrutinize myself for inconveniencing my wallet, my husband, my family, my friends, my workplace – all in the name of vanity. In my life I am largely selective of whom I share with and whom I do not, and I worry that my slimmed down appearance will generate questions from people who I don’t chose to share with. I worry about the insane amount of time and money I will spend to outfit my sexy new little tummy… oh, wait, no, that’s a lie.

What do I plan on saying to the average person’s inquisition? Absolutely nothing. I have always thought that ‘complimenting’ someone on a smaller body is inappropriate. It’s a double-edged sword, if you ask me. “Gosh Bob, you look great! Have you lost weight?” has always offended me. It draws attention to the fact that Bob was heavy to begin with, which I’m sure Bob already knows and feels insecure about. And next, it sends Bob the message that he looks great when he is small, and by contrast, he looks bad when he is big. That’s a judgement that I think is rude to convey. In my life, I have always handled the weight loss comments in a neutral, indifferent manner. Oh, thanks. “You lost weight!” Yes, I did. Fortunately for me, boundary setting has never been an issue for me, and I’m quite comfortable diplomatically letting someone know if they’ve breached my comfort zone. How much sense does this make: I see a balding man at a party or at the mailbox. My face lights up, I clap my hands in delight and say to him, “Bob!! Look at you! You’re hair is growing! What’d you do to it?” Rude. Inappropriate.

This is an opportunity that I know I am truly blessed to be able to afford. For years, I was the girl who thought, “Oh geez, must be nice!” Until I got to the point where, when I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t find a nice thing to say about me. I couldn’t see past my mid-section. And I wonder to myself, in a few months from now, after the two weeks of drains that will stick out of my tummy, the four weeks of compression garments, and eight weeks of internal swelling, I wonder what I will see when I look in the mirror. Like seeing my womanly body for the first time, I wonder what part of me I am going to fall in love with first. And the thought of that brings tears to my eyes. 

I’ll see you next Tuesday, where in a narcotic haze I plan to share every, juicy detail.

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Filed under Cleaning, Family, Girlfriends, Guest Blog, Motherhood, Parenting, Pregnancy, Tummy Tuck

Tags: Belly, Family, Mommy, Motherhood, Parenting, Plastic Surgery, Post-Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Tummy Tuck