Tummy Tuck for Mama: Putting Humpty Dumpty Back Together - Thousand Oaks, CA

After 2 pregnancies resulting in diastasis recti and umbilical hernia, I am nervous for surgery but looking forward to a new and comfortable me. I am 33 and my two young daughters need me feeling and moving my best. I've lost 20 lbs in 4 months and have been doing Pilates to strengthen me: it's go time!

I only have three days left of this pooch and the accompanying back pain and hernia discomfort. I've been living with it for 5 years and my husband is probably so sick of me asking for massages. So... why am I soooooo nervous for this surgery?!

It's what I want! We reconfigured finances to be able to pay for it and planned it precisely to work for our family. This is a very wanted and scheduled surgery. But I cannot get over how afraid I am of a) being put to sleep and waking up from anesthesia (I'm not afraid of dying but afraid of WHAT IT'S LIKE! I have no idea what to expect and can't comprehend how it works and I don't like that); b) the surgery itself. I've seen too many videos and read too many RS posts. I know exactly what's going to happen and omg that freaks me out that THAT'S going to happen to my body. Out cold and being slapped around like a hunk of meat! Whaaaaat! The lipo looks so violent! Eeeeek! c) pain. I am not too proud to not take my pills. I WILL take pain meds. But I am still afraid of the pain; d) functioning after surgery -- going potty, taking showers, the little things. I have help for my two daughters and me.... between my husband and the two sets of parents nearby, I'm not so worried about the household but I am dreading how hard the simple stuff will be.

I went to a hypnotherapist and tried to work on happy thoughts and positive affirmations. I thiiiiink they can work, but I'm worried I will still let the REAL feelings sink in when it's go time. My mind is a hard one to take charge of. Very Type A. Very control-freak.

These next three days are looming over me. Part of me wants this week to go slow and part of me wants it to go fast. This is a very difficult time, mentally, and I don't think I'm handling it well.

I’ll take “Unrelated, but related things” for $1000, Alex.

A Green Day song and how Alison is feeling.

What is a basket case?

ding ding ding!

I know, a very obscure reference, but underneath this set of Broadway show tunes ears is a 6th grade girl with a big crush on Billie Joe and useless knowledge about Green Day (Extra trivia: Sublime would become my next favorite band because that was what was necessary for cute junior high skaters to give me the time of day). So anyway, “Basket Case” is a song about Billie Joe’s panic attacks. And that’s basically what I’ve been experiencing all day. Where are my five Grammys and Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction?

Oh, instead of those accolades, I get a new tummy. Totally fair.

Really, though, panic attacks all day. My husband has been out of town this week so I’ve been trying to carry on like business as usual around here, but it’s kind of hard to do when you can’t help but count down every hour and say things to yourself like, “X hours from right this moment, I’ll probably be waking up and I better not be nauseous and puke and say embarrassing things.” I’ve also been tidying up the house and redecorating. It’s like I’m nesting, but instead of giving birth in the near future, I’m getting sliced and diced. In my experience, it’s sort of the same thing, actually.

We are on the final day or so of our upstairs remodel so that’s also been taking up a lot of brain space, which is mostly a good thing. That’s the rule, don’t you know: You remodel your house and then you remodel yourself. Naturally. But now that it’s nearing the end, it’s the signal to me that my surgery is next. At least we have two brand new bathrooms and a newly created upstairs laundry room, a great improvement from sharing space with spiders and crickets in the garage. The irony is that in a couple days, I won’t be able to stand up to brush my teeth at my new sink or wash clothes in the new laundry room.

The greatest tease of all is that I’ve been working for months on a leaner and stronger body. Today was my last day of Pilates with my instructor until after the surgery. Now that I’m finally so much stronger than when I started to see her, my body is about to become super weakened. I know that working with her to prepare my body for surgery was the right thing, and I can’t wait for my six weeks to be up so I can resume workouts with her. Private Pilates classes two or three times per week made such a difference and I missed it on the days we didn’t meet. In addition to exercise, she has been a solid ear for talk therapy, a fountain of knowledge about how my body works — or, really, doesn’t work, and a wonderful cheerleader on this journey. We joked today that we’ve done everything we could and it’s out of our hands now, probably similar to how most of America felt after casting their votes last week.

I left her studio around 11, got in the car, and cried. I cried because I’m scared. I also cried because I accomplished a goal I never thought I’d complete or even enjoy: consistent exercise and body change. I took before and after photos last week and, the photos helped me realize that I’ve come a long way and, more importantly, how much I really do need this surgery. It’s clear I slimmed down in so many areas, but the belly remained the same: out, round, and pregnant-looking.

My wonderful friends have been so supportive because they know I am scared out of my mind. Last night, I should’ve gone to bed early to get rest (I never go to sleep early when my husband is away), but my mind was racing and just as I was about to start looking at tummy tuck videos because I am masochistic like that, a wonderful new friend I’ve made from My daughter's school messaged me on Facebook to check on me and we ended up chatting for an hour and a half about all sorts of things. She saved me from a panic attack alone in my living room. And today, I talked to two friends, a nurse and a recent rockstar tummy tuck patient, and they attempted to talk me off a ledge as well. Last week, one of my best friends gave me a beautiful quartz crystal for optimal healing. I don’t know what I believe in, but I know it’s pretty, it feels smooth to hold and rub my fingers on when I get nervous, and the most warming part is that it was a gift from a true friend who cares. I am lucky that my friends continue to be there for me even though I sound like a psychotic person right now. I am looking forward to feeling calm and feeling the anxiety disappear once I’m on the other side of this nonsense.

The second time I cried today was when I picked up all of my prescriptions. I really played up the easily nauseated part during my pre-op appointment, so that won me three meds to combat nausea. Of course the real prize is the Percocet which I plan to swallow round the clock, inhale, inject, and rub all over me. Seriously, I am so not too proud to take pain medication.

I went through the pharmacy drive-thru (god bless you, Walgreens) and was so shaky when I paid for the prescriptions. My hand dropped the credit card between the seat and middle console and I stuttered badly when the tech asked for my address. She could tell I was so nervous about the surgery for which her magical bottles would aid in my recovery. She gave me sympathetic eyes and then I asked her to hold my hand on Friday morning. Sorry, Walgreens Tech Michelle, for being the crazy lady in the drive-thru tonight. I hope you at least had a good laugh about me in the break room because I’ve really lost my marbles and there’s nothing anyone can do but giggle about it. When I drove away, I cried because it all became real again.

I can’t truly articulate what it is I’m so afraid of. I know I’m not going to die. I know I’m going to love the result in six weeks. I know I’m going to feel so much more comfortable and active in order to keep up with my girls. I suppose I’m afraid of the pain, but I’m mostly afraid of the unknown. The unknown leads me to research and well, we all know we’re not supposed to Google anything, but why would I follow that rule?

I want this today to go fast and slow all at the same time. I get bursts of energy and bravery where I just want to go go go and get it over with! And then I get a dip in blood pressure where I just absolutely dread what’s to come. I’m not really in charge either way. The clock is ticking and the sun will rise once more before it’s go time. I’ve got to just roll with the punches. But I just hope those punches aren’t too hard because, ouch!