"No wait! I'm just like you!" (Alternate title, "Come on kids, let's go to court!")

Just reading through my journal and I decided this entry needed to be shared. I'm thankful I experienced it, and that it's over. Enjoy. I promise, it will make you feel better about today. I know it did me. Happy New Year.

June 22nd, 2009

Yesterday was my first outing with one month old Collin. I wish I could say it was to a Le Leche League meeting or Mommy and me outing. No, it was to court. I got that ticket for an expired registration on my way back from the hospital last month. (Worst day ever. Until today.) Well, Shane was called out on town on with a work emergency, so I had no choice but to go to court myself. With registration infractions, there is no option just to pay a fine. You have to be in court. Court started at 8. To drop the kids off somewhere would have been waking up a friend at 6. And Collin doesn't take a bottle.

So there I was. One month after my c-section (and yes, my incision is still infected), dragging my 3 year old and 1 month old out the door at 6:30 am to get to court on time. Getting dressed was a minor exercise in humiliation. I stood in my closet for 20 minutes, trying to figure out anything that I could possibly fit into that would be "court appropriate". I finally discovered a pair of khakis that I dubbed my "fat pants" after Lydia was born. I grabbed flip-flops and a black v-neck that was stretched out enough at the neckline to allow for easy nursing. I pulled my greasy hair into a knot, grabbed some earrings and called it good. My mistake was looking into the mirror. Everything about me is "swollen". My breasts, my ankles, the bags under my eyes. My body looks like I should have a black line superimposed over my face as they show me on the news as being an example of the rise of American obesity. I am hideous.

It's June, but it feels like August. We had to park several blocks from the courthouse and 2 minutes after leaving the car all three of us were dripping. Poor little Collin. The extra pain medication I took was doing nothing to stop the searing pain radiating through my abdomen. I'm not supposed to be out of bed. I'm definitely not supposed to be rushing down the sidewalk with a double jogging stroller. By the time we reached the courthouse entrance, I was hiding my tears with my oversized sunglasses. My tears continued when I saw a sign across the door stating "Entrance Closed".

I called the info line listed on my ticket to find out where I needed to go. I knew I was not going to be happy the moment I heard that bored southern drawl of a bitter women who hates her job and most likely was left by her husband for a striper.

"Ma'am. (Long annoyed pause). That entrance has been closed for a year. You have to enter through the parking garage."

"Where is the parking garage? Can I walk there? This is the address it gave me on my ticket."

Longer annoyed pause.

"No ma'am. Everyone has been entering the garage for over a year. You have to drive."

I look at the clock and start rushing back towards the car. My c-section incision feels like it is about to burst and both kids are crying.

After returning both kids to their seats, gingerly shoving the enormous stroller in the car without straining myself, I finally find the parking garage after circumventing the construction and one way streets. I want a GPS for Christmas. And possibly a minivan. No. I take that back. No minivan.

I pull the stroller back out, unbuckle both kids, buckle them back into the stroller, and ran. Well, I hobbled quickly.

I make it to the security check five minutes before I'm supposed to appear before the judge.

"Miss?"

I look up as I'm piling my baby paraphernalia on the the belt.

"You can't take a stroller into the courthouse"

No. That can't be right. I didn't prepare for this. I'm not supposed to pick up anything over 10 pounds. I have a 8 pound baby and a 15 pound diaper bag. My diaper bag isn't big enough to carry everything I have. It's spilled it's contents into the bottom of the stroller. I don't even have my baby sling.

"Is there anyway? I just had a baby and he's asleep in the stroller. I'm not supposed to carry him for more than a few minutes."

"Sorry, no."

He was a nice enough guy, but I kind of wanted to punch him in the face.

I picked up Collin, dumped out everything from my diaper bag except the bare necessities, grabbed Lydia's hand and took two steps. I thought I was going to pass out. I kept going because there was really nothing else to do.

I made it to the courtroom 5 minutes late.

The bailiff stopped me at the door.

"I know, I'm late, I'm so sorry!"

"No. That's not the problem. You can't take children into the courtroom."

This time I just stared. For an uncomfortably long time. I could see in the bailiffs eyes he was scared. He knew I was about to have a total breakdown.

"Ma'am. Just go sit over on that bench. I will come and get you when it's your turn. I will try and get you to the top of the list. We'll figure out what to do then. You probably will still have about 15 minutes."

I just about kissed him. Then I started to cry again when I realized he was being nice to me because I was pathetic.

I walked to the bench and decided to nurse Collin. I kept talking to Lydia about what was going on around her.

Did I mention that I told her we were on a field trip to the court? She was having a blast.

I was in mid-sentence of explaining to her what the judge does when I saw something incredible.

I saw me.

No, not in a mirror or reflection. I saw me, 5 years ago.

Five years ago I was working for a law firm. Shane and I had been married for a couple years. I was in fantastic shape and a great place in my career. Every Friday I donned my black suit, heels and pearl earrings to head to court. I meet with clients and defendants, assisted the attorney in the court room. I loved it. I felt successful, attractive and in control of my life.

There I was. Only 5 years before. A woman in the same place in her life as I had been. Same suit, same heals, same pearl earrings. And then she turned and looked at me.

I could see the look. I knew it because I had given it. She was wondering behind those smokey eyes, how does a women get to this point? Dripping in children and breast milk. What is she wearing? How hard is it to take a shower and get yourself ready for the day? She probably thinks of nothing but Elmo and coupons.

I wanted to scream at her. No! I'm just like you. Really! Underneath this extra 30 pounds and unhighlighted hair and disgusting clothes with snot and spit up. I can be pretty! Just not right now. I have style. I just can't fit into anything except sweats and this handmade nursing blanket. I am interesting! But not since the baby was born and my mind is mush and I couldn't remember the word for "Walnut" yesterday. I am successful! Though wait. I have given up any semblance of a career.

Her gaze wandered lazily away and the bailiff appeared, looking embarrassed. I noticed then that my nursing pad had worked it's way out of my bra and was attached to my neck.

The judge allowed Lydia to sit with all the bailiffs while I spoke to him. If I hadn't been in total humiliation of standing in front of dozens of people in my current state, I might have thought it was cute. There she was, all smiles as she sat surrounded by ten men in uniform. To her, this was the best field trip ever.

The judge looked at me and started laughing. Collin responded by shooting spit up down my back.

Loudly for the entire court to hear he chuckled, "You know. Technically I can send you to the work yard for a few days for an expired registration. Do you think I should send her to the work yard?"

I glanced at the court full of people waiting to be seen. They did not look happy. In fact, they looked really annoyed.

"I'd rather just pay a fine if it's all the same"

"Do you have proof of a renewed registration?"

"Yes."

"Then you can go. But next time its the work yard."

Somehow I managed a smile and by the look the judge gave me, I knew without a doubt, he was a grandfather.

Lydia was hungry so I let her pick out a drink and a snack out of the vending machines.She took a photo with a policeman.She said it was the best day ever.Then she had to go potty.I thought I had experienced low points in my life. But this topped them all.There were no women anywhere to help me. There was no stroller to put my newborn. Lydia was too small for the toilets. She had to be held up so she didn't fall in. Kids weren't allowed in the courtroom so there was no changing table to strap Collin in.There I was. My new baby laying on my diaper bag next to the toilet. I was crouched with my knee supporting him so he didn't fall off, and both arms holding Lydia as she did her business. My pants were too tight for that position. I had to unzip them. The stall was so shallow, half my butt was hanging out below the door. I was in some of the most excruciating pain I can imagine, trying to smile as Lydia retold the days exciting events. I prayed, please don't let the "me from 5 years ago" walk in.

Oh my. What have I become?
However, as I drove home, I felt such relief I found myself smiling. I did it. If I could be a mom of two on this day,  I could totally hack it.My thoughts strayed to the woman I had seen.  I wondered if I could ever be her again.Probably not. I could be attractive again. I will have my mind back most likely. I guess I could have a career at some point. Though that sounds so exhausting at the moment I won't even dwell.But I will always be different. There is a world you pass into when you have kids. A world you cannot understand beforehand. I don't care how much you've babysat or how many nieces and nephew you have.
All the opinions you had of life after kids are merely misunderstood perceptions. Having children changes you in ways you can't control. The way I used to think about young mothers was wrong. I just couldn't see it because they were literally in a different dimension from me.

Still. I want to be that way again. I want to be me, just with children. I want to have style and hobbies and sex and normalcy.

I instinctively reached up to pull a stray piece of greasy hair from my face and I noticed something. The earrings I had chosen to wear in my exhausted 5:45 Am stupor.

Pearls.

Hum. Maybe, be it ever so slowly, I'm already on my way back.