A Taste of Denim

I finally got back into jeans yesterday, and it was divine! Yes, they are my post-pregnancy jeans from my last post-pregnancy time, so they are two to three sizes bigger than I ordinarily wear, but they are jeans nonetheless. And they fit perfectly; only a slight muffin top in certain spots.

And then today ... stupid, stupid today ...

I wore them again today, thrilled at feeling like a fully-functioning human being in normal clothes, when I noticed around lunch time that the area right above my incision was a little tender. I felt the spot that was sore, and I found it to be swollen and hard.

(Insert expletive here.)

Apparently, I jumped back into my jeans a little too quickly, and my body is yelling at me for it.

Now that I've had that taste of denim, though, I'm craving more. I love wearing jeans; they make me feel confident and still comfortable. And right now they represent something even more meaningful; they, in a weird way, represent my freedom. They were that first step back into a normal routine where I don't have to rely on everyone to help me out. As infinitely grateful as I am for all the help I've been given over the past month, I miss being able to do what I need to do when I need to do it and in the manner in which I like it done. I miss scooping up my little man and heading out for this or that, driving to and fro whenever I pleased. I miss being able to carry him up and down the stairs, for heaven's sake, and hold onto him when he's having a rough day - like he is today.

So today I'm a little sad, too. A little sad to have had to step out of my jeans.