Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Help! My ass is broken and I can't get up...

OK, so maybe it isn’t really broken, but it sure feels like it.  I have been having issues with my sciatic nerve.  So about a week and a half ago the back of my thigh was starting to get achy.  Oh here we go I thought.  When I was pregnant with the girls I had some sciatic pain…nothing too bad, I could usually change positions and get relief…just more of an annoyance than anything.  So I was prepared for what was headed my way.  Or so I thought…oh no my friends…I had no idea what was about to happen.  So for a day or two this annoying ass ache persists.  Then a week ago Saturday I woke up to a whole new level of pain.  It was something I would not wish on my worst enemy.  Pain from the middle of my butt check down about 18 inches.  Not a huge space physically but the ramifications of said ass pain reverberated through my whole body.  I could not escape this pain.  Sitting, standing, walking, laying down it did not make a difference.  There was absolutely no relief.  I don’t think my housemates understood the depth of my pain.  It hurt so bad yet I would half laugh half cry and since it was my butt, and as I say to the girls all the time butts are always funny they just would make jokes about my broken bum. 

By the 3rd day something odd happened…now if it happened to anyone else or if it weren’t so painful and infringing on the quality of my life I would have found it fascinating.  But since it was so painful and was infringing on the quality of my life I wasn’t that amused.  Let me explain the phenomenon to you...every now and then when I would attempt to go from a sitting position to a standing one I would get stuck.  Not stuck as in the pain was too much and I was too wimpy to push through it…oh no…I was literally stuck as in my body was no longer functioning.  The first couple of times it happened when I was on the couch or getting out of bed.  Chuck and the girls would have to come and pull me to an upright position.  And then the unthinkable happened…I got stuck mid stance as I was getting off the toilet.  There I was pants around my ankles hovering precariously over the pot.  What to do?  What to do?  Now Chuck and I have a very open and honest relationship.  He has painted my toe nails for me when my pregnant belly gets in the way, he had rubbed my fake tanning lotion on my back for me and helped me in the hospital after the girls were born but even this was too much for our relationship to survive.  I had to go to plan B.  I called for Anna, my 3 year old.  I knew she would have my back.  NOPE!!!  Wrong, I asked her to come in to the bathroom to help me.  She stood outside the door and she answered with a resounding NO and a voice dripping with utter disgust.  Are you friggin kidding me Anna?  This is the same girl who will barge in  and pull the shower curtain back so she can hand me a juice box to open, or walk in while I am mid pee asking where her Strawberry Shortcake Pez dispenser, that she hasn’t seen in over 3 months, is.  Apparently she had completely forgotten the hundreds of diapers I changed for her, all the poopie accidents I cleaned while she was toilet training, the ultimate sacrifices I would make when I would give her my last Pop-Tarts…she could not help me with this one simple request.  Finally Chuck convinced her and she came in and lent a hand…and boy did she delight in telling everyone she had to help me off the toilet.

So this pain persists all weekend long.  8:30 Monday morning could not come fast enough.  At 8:29 and a half I started dialing my OB’s number.  I get through right away, they recommend PT but I would need to see my primary MD to set it up.  Great.  Her office doesn’t open for another 30 minutes!!  Thankfully I live to see 9 a.m.  I call and they squeeze me in later that morning.  Yup, sure enough it is my sciatic nerve and I will need PT.  She sets me up with one in my home town.  I decide to stop in on my way home…that way they can see exactly how miserable I am…I was scared that they might not get it if I were just to call and set it up.  They got it!  I was able to snag an appointment for the next day.  Crap!!  I was supposed to work the next day.  How the hell was I supposed to do that.  I can barely pull my pants on how was I actually going to work with teeny, tiny babies.  I was nervous I would be sitting holding one, the parents would come in and they would expect me to stand up and hand over their child.  What if I got stuck?  They would think I was some weirdo refusing to hand their kid over, security would be called and I would still be stuck unable to pass the baby off, a taser may be involved, perhaps some type of child endangerment charge…but then it hit me…an even worse fate.  I am 7.5 months pregnant.  I have to pee, a lot.  I would more likely than not have to pee several times during my shift at work.  What if I got stuck on the toilet at work?  That would be a disaster.  There is a locker room with 3 toilets.  I could take my chance in there, but it could be hours before someone came in and then they would have to crawl under the stall to help me.  I could use one of the single toilet staff bathrooms but I would need to leave it unlocked in case of emergency but then someone could just walk in on me  then they run the risk of burning their corneas if they saw my belly in all its glory…or I could use the single bathroom that is reserved for the overnight call rooms, it has a call light with a pull string attached to it.  I could use that but then I run the risk of a whole slew of people coming to my rescue and that would be overkill.  It was decided.  I needed to call out.  I ended up having to take 2 days off...

So I go for my first PT appointment.  I had no idea what to expect.  It was a very odd experience to say the least.  At 40 years old I was the youngest in the facility by a good 40 years.  But I soldiered on.  I meet the therapist, he seems nice enough.  He asks me questions, has me walk and do a few other little exercises to see my range of motion etc.  Then he has me get on a table while he tries to "release" the pinched nerve.  Sounds good to me.  Well, turns out it was kind of awkward.  He is pushing and rubbing my butt.  He was totally professional and was all business and I had all my clothes on, but it was weird to have a man I met about 15 minutes ago massaging my ass. But I quickly got over my little wig out when it started to feel slightly better.  As I was leaving he told me that it would probably get worse before it gets better.   Truer words have never been spoken.  I went home feeling a little better, I woke up the next day still feeling pretty good.  I got down on the floor to do my exercises and it happened.  I got stuck!!  Sara and Anna tried to help but I don't think the biggest construction crane would have been able to move me.  It was awful.  I had them drag a chair over in the hopes I would be able to kind of climb up it, to no avail.  After 15 minutes pass I have them get the phone and I call Chuck at work.  Not that he can do anything...he is 45 minutes away but I felt the responsible thing to do was at least tell another adult that I was stuck on the floor.  I told him that I would give it another 10-15 minutes and then I would need to go to plan B...not sure what plan B was going to be but something was going to have to give and soon!  In the meantime I was asking Sara to show me how she would call for help if I were really hurt.  She knows how to call 911, she knows our address etc.  So I move on to Anna, might as well use this down time (pun intended) to create a teachable moment.  So as I am teaching her how to call 911 I am surveying the room.  If there were a true need to call 911 I would most likely lose my children to the state.  The house looked like something out of The Lord of the Flies.  There was half eaten cereal bowls lying around, drinks from the past few days littering the sides of the couches...Anna God love her looked like she just walked out of a third world slum.  Her hair hadn't been washed in days (I was unable to bathe myself let alone bend over a tub to wash them), she had Nutella smeared from her mouth up to her eye brows...her shirt had marker all over it and there were no pants to speak of, just undies.  Fortuantlely about 5 minutes after realizing I was only a few more empty goldfish packages away from starring in an episode of Hoarders the nerve released and I was able to get up.  Good thing I did because just as I stood up the girls were right there to knock me back down.  Figuratively, not literally.  Sara starts in with, "You are ruining our summer", "you said we were going to have play dates and cousin sleepovers", "you don't take us to the park, you don't do crafts or play with us anymore and you don't even clean the house anymore"...so of course her partner in crime chimes is with, "yeah mom, you ruined our summer!"  I lost it and just burst into tears.  I hadn't slept in 5 days, I was in excruciating pain, my kids hate me and oh yeah, I am still pregnant.  They see me sobbing and they are stunned.  They just stare at me horrified and then Sara says, "don't cry mom, when we see people cry it makes our eyes water."  But I couldn't stop...the tears just kept coming and coming.  They slink off and return a few minutes later with a picutre of a heart with a handwritten note that says, I love u mom.  They also announce that I didn't ruin their whole summer, just some of it.  So of course that makes me cry more.  Sara very quietly asks if daddy can come home.  I tell them he is still at work but will be home in 4 hours.  They beg for me to call him to come home.  I think they were afraid of me.  I am so beat down I call.  He comes home.  I end up taking some Benadryl and get a few hours sleep.  To make ammends they try to help me with my stretches.  The first time Anna is sitting above me on a chair.  I am laying on the floor.  She leans over a little too far and falls on me.  Then a few minutes later she is playing with a plastic sword and drops it on my face.  Another time they are in charge of counting to 30 while I do this incredibly painful stretch.  Anna skips a number, Sara reprimands her and suggests they start over.  I am yelling, "You are on 15...for the love of God just start back up at 16!!" So it goes like this for a few days but by the time Friday rolls around I am managing to walk a little better and I am not getting stuck so I drag my sorry self to work...I would have rented a Hoveround at this point....I needed to get out of the house and away from the kids.  I think they were just as happy that I went out for a little while.

I woke up yesterday feeling absolutely fine.  It was as if the whole sciatic nerve thing never happened.  I ended up going to the doctor for an ultrasound, just to make sure things were going well...I was feeling a little different and was told to come in.  Turns out the baby has now turned into this weird position but I will take it.  Apparently the way the baby had been laying was most likely pressing on my nerve causing the problem.  The tech said not to worry, that there was still time for the baby to move back into position.  I told her I hope not, I am delivering by c-section...this baby can stay right side up and backwards until I am wheeled into the OR!!  I am not one to pray but I am sending out some requests that this baby does not get back into that awful position.  Oh, and as I was leaving the nurse practioner tells me, "this is going to be a monster of a baby"...that is nice to hear...yesterday the estimated weight was already 4.7 pounds.  I still have 9 weeks to go.  Let that sink in for a minute....

Friday, July 19, 2013

On being a Roll Model...

No, in case you were wondering, that was not a typo.  So as the mother of two, young, impressionable girls I try very hard to be a good role model to them.  I try to always act appropriately in front of them with the hopes of gently guiding them so they become kind, compassionate, contributing members of society.  I want them to give back, volunteer, treat others with the respect that they themselves will want to be treated with.  Overall just be good people.  Now, don't get me wrong...I slip up from time to time...I have been known to swear, yell, give them yodels for breakfast, explain to them why the planet Uranus is funny and let them watch questionable TV shows (Sara's current favorite is Naked and Afraid on Discovery Channel...she giggles every time she sees a butt).  The one thing I am always conscience of is the fact that since I am the same sex parent to them they watch my EVERY move.  I try very hard never to put myself down in front of them, call myself fat or complain about the way I look.  I really want them to have a strong sense of self, high self esteem and feel  they are worthy of and deserving to be in this world.  I do from time to time compliment them if they look pretty, what girl doesn't want to hear that? But the majority of my compliments are about how they are a great artist, how they are doing a great job problem solving, how when they are trying to work something out in their head like spelling a new word I tell them how I like the way they are thinking...I try to always point out their strong characteristics that are really going to mean something later in life. 

All that being said sometimes I hate having to be a role model.  Case in point...our recent vacation.  Don't get me wrong, we had a wonderful time.  It was nice to get away as a family of four before the new little one arrives in 75 days from today, but who is counting?  So we were heading to a beach town for a week.  So that means we will be going to the beach.  Which in turn means we will need to wear bathing suits.  UGH!!!  If you have not seen me in person lately I will let you in on a not so little secret...I am absolutely HUGE!!!!!  Remember back to the last blog post regarding people commenting on my size...well, while on vacation my belly expanded exponentially!!  Overnight, literally overnight, my belly grew a whole shirt size.  But anyway, back to the bathing suit.  I needed one.  Chuck suggested I just wear shorts and a T shirt in the water.  First, maternity shorts have a huge, hot belly band that comes up to my arm pits so in the hot sun that really is not practical, second, I personally think that when someone wears a t-shirt over their bathing suit in the water it draws more attention to them, not less.  I am going to be drawing enough stares...I don't need to attract any more than necessary and third, and most importantly, I don't want the girls to think I am embarrassed by my body, that it was something to hide.  I had a bathing suit from when I was preggo with Sara but it was pink and white flowers, with a skirt and really, really ugly.  Plus, I lent it out to someone and couldn't remember who.  So off I went, with the girls of course to go maternity bathing suit shopping.  It is a pain to have them with me when I am shopping but the upside is they are brutally honest on how things look.  So I try on about 10 swim suits, and all 10 get the thumbs down.  The last one I try on, a simple black one piece with some colored strips across the top,  and all 3 of us agree that it looks OK, not fantastic but OK....

So I get home and try the suit on and show my betrothed and he says, "oh, I thought you would get one with a skirt." I sigh and go change.  But, I press on...spending the next few days before vaca slathering myself with Neutragenia Build a Tan so I am not shocking white.  If you have never met me in real life I am white.  Very much so.  Years ago I worked for an agency in Roxbury, MA...I was the only white person around literally for miles.  One day one of the kids said to me as he noticed   blue veins underneath my skin, "you are so white you are see thru."    But I digress...We get to the cottage, settle in and head to the beach.  It is late in the afternoon and there are not many people left.  We find a spot, set up our stuff and start playing with the girls.  I casually notice that there is a blanket set up next to us.  Just a blanket and 2 towels...no pails and shovels so I am thinking adults.  Well a few minutes pass and there I am standing on the beach my big belly out in all its glory for the world to see.  As I stand there looking at my husband and kids playing in the sand I am thinking life is good.  Just as I complete that thought in my head it happens.  A beautiful girl comes walking out of the surf in a string bikini.  It is happening in slow motion, kind of like that slow motion movie scene where Christy Brinkley comes out of the pool looking stunningly beautiful.  Yeah, it was like that.  Only this girl goes one further...she is just as pregnant as I am!!!  Her beautiful, smooth, taut swollen pregnant belly does not have a stretch mark on it....her boobs are big and beautiful, not droopy and discolored...I don't see any imperfection on her at all.  It is as if she were there on a photo shoot for maternity swimwear.  Any ounce of confidence I had goes flying out of me.  Then I think to myself...yeah, but I am the real deal, I represent the average American woman.  But wait, we are in Maine not the glamorous south of France...she is a real American woman too.  So I resign myself to the fact that even pregnant people come in all shapes and sizes.  But I did get a small sense of satisfaction when I saw her significant other...he kind of looked like Chum Lee from that pawn show...so at least I win in the significant other category.

Another unfortunate bathing suit incident happened while on vacation.  We were at the pool and I got out and was drying off with my towel.  This time I had on a tankini.  Chuck is still in the pool and he is trying to get my attention.  I have no idea what he is getting at.  After a few minutes of trying to decode his mime skills I figure it out.  The top of the tankini has ridden up a bit and my belly was showing.  Not the pregnant part of my belly, oh no my friends, it was my skin apron.  It was hanging over the top of my bathing suit bottom.  It looked kind of like pasta dough as it is coming out of a pasta press....flat, pale and floppy.  Chuck asked how I could not feel it...I have had 4 abdominal surgeries...it is so numb now I could probably cut it off with kitchen shears and not feel it, how was I supposed to feel it flapping in the warm summer breeze?  Wardrobe malfunction at its worst!!!   But through it all I let it all roll off my back and didn't let the girls in on the fact that sometimes I hate being a "roll" model....

Here are some other random thoughts and ideas...some from vacation...some just from whatever....

**  So the girls have really been getting along great lately but there were a few occasions when things didn't go so well....

        One morning Sara pissed Anna off and Anna declares, "you ruined my life Sara."  So sad having your whole life ruined at the tender age of 3.

    Another time they were fighting and again in a fit of anger Anna starts singing to Sara, "I hate you, we are never, ever, ever getting back together...like ever!"  It took all I had not to burst out laughing.

I have noticed that every single roll of toilet paper we put out inevitably ends up with tiny 3 year old finger sized divets in the ends.  She can not resist the urge to poke....

Oh, and last but not least...you know what makes pregnancy even better?  The third heat wave of the summer!!!


Monday, July 8, 2013

I effin' hate people!

There, I said it.  I do.  Now you may think that I am just a cranky pregnant lady and in a more rational state I would probably agree with you.  However, in a relatively short period of time I have come to realize that many, many people are just uncivilized.  The past couple of days Chuck and I have been out and about with the girls.  Being pregnant I spend much of that time in public restrooms.  Not where I really want to be taking care of business but when nature calls and my options are limited I can't really be picky.  People are gross.  Today, for instance I was in a stall when all of the sudden I hear Maroon 5 start blaring...it was a fellow stallmates ring tone, she answers it, flushes...and we all know how loud industrial strength toilets are...first off, I would not take a call if I were mid stream, but hey, that is just me...I definitely would not flush, lest the caller know I was in the bathroom...nope, not this lady...she does one better...she TELLS the caller she was going to the bathroom as she is flushing and then walks out of the bathroom.  No, I did not leave anything out...she did NOT wash her hands.  So now not only are her hands filthy, but so is the phone she was holding with her pee and potentially poop covered hands!  The same phone that at some point she will probably put down on the restaurant table!!!  Sadly, she was not the exception...but more of the rule.  I guess I am in the small minority of people that find the need to clean my hands after using the restroom.  One lady not only skipped the hand washing, she took her pants off and changed right there in the bathroom...guess she couldn't have taken care of that while in the stall...she needed to stand right in front of the sink....so she did know they had one available, just chose not to partake in the societal ritual of cleansing oneself...and moon everyone instead.  Sadly, this was repeated over and over in every bathroom I visited.  Oh, and yesterday I was in a public pool and this lady with a huge, open wound comes strolling in.  She must be there to sit and have a drink, perhaps catch some rays?....Surely she was not going to take a dip in the pool.  Holy Sh*t!  She was heading straight for the water...you have NEVER seen a pregnant woman move so fast!!  Now, I think public pools are literally human secretion stew, but, I sucked it up and got in for the sake of the girls...no way, they were on their own with Chuck...I just imagined MRSA or some other gross disease oozing from her leg and crawling up my vagina and giving my unborn leprosy.  Strangely today when the girls asked if they could go swimming Chuck and I had an excuse ready to go.  So, life lesson reaffirmed; people are disgusting.

But my friends, that is not all that is bothering me lately...sadly, I have been the victim of a hate crime.  Yup...on more than once occasion.  Now technically that may not be totally true in the legal sense of the definition, but I really think I need to contact my local legislatures and have pregnant women defined as a protected class of citizens.  If you are with child, apparently you are fair game for insensitive and down right rude comments.  Here are a few examples from just the past 3 days!!  Yesterday we went to the store to get some beach stuff.  Pretty benign, right?  Nope!  It took a turn for the worse as soon as I stepped out of the minivan.  There was a lady sitting in her car right next to us.  Her window was down.  Chuck and Sara got out on the other side and were already half way to the store...Anna and I were a bit more leisurely.  So this lady yells out the window, "WOW!  You look like you are ready to pop any minute!"  I just kind of smile and take Anna's hand and start to walk away.  "When are you due?"...not for 12 more weeks I answer and keep walking.  "NO WAY!!!...you look like you are going to drop that kid out now....they have to be wrong!"....nope, I still have a way to go...."wow, you are going to have that kid soon...they must be wrong...there is probably 2 in there!"....nope, just one and I am pretty sure they are right with my due date....I am trying hard to get out of there, but this lady goes on and on..."you better have that thing soon or you will explode"...no, I really don't want to have "it" anytime soon...it is way too early.  I will be fine though, thank you.  "you are having a boy!  It must weigh 8 or 9 pounds by now"...nope, 2.6 pounds give or take 185 grams...now I was getting pissed.  Seriously lady?  What gives you the right to be so mean to me?  I did nothing to bother you...if I were not in front of my children I would have channeled my inner Anderson Cooper and gone all catty on that biatch.  Kind of like I did the other day....let me set the scene for you...I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for an iced coffee.  Yes, I know that caffeine is not the preferred drink for expectant moms...however, my OB has declared it absolutely fine for me to have a coffee or 2 each week...and since she specializes in maternal fetal medicine, more specifically maternal cardiac issues I am going to accept her medical opinion and quite frankly ignore all others that may have an opinion on how I should handle my pregnancy, yet have no medical training at all....Back to my story... I am minding my own business and order my drink.  This lady next to me (who is the epitome of white trash...complete with the requisite black shirt with the white etched wolves howling at the moon on it...seriously where the hell does one buy a shirt like that anyway....a thick smell of cigarette smoke on her and a few sporadically placed teeth...now, normally I don't care about how someone looks, how they dress or conduct their lives, but once you insert yourself into mine...you are fair game...consider yourselves warned)  chimes in and says, "umm, people that are pregnant should not drink caffeine"....I am exhausted, hot, physically uncomfortable and 6 hours away from starting my vacation...in other words; I HAVE HAD IT!!!  I look directly at her and say, "people that have lungs should not smoke and people without teeth shouldn't have sugar"...I turn and storm out.  Not so much for effect, more so that she does not attack and kill me.  Oh, the silver fox would have been so proud of me!!

Another thing that bothers me is strangers that touch a pregnant ladies belly.   Yes, on occasion I have had the urge to rub an old bald man's head and make a wish or pinch the chubby cheeks of a baby.  But guess what?  I don't!!  Why?  Because #1 I am civilized and #2 we are strangers!!!  So here are my rules about touching my belly.  If you are living under the same roof as me you can have unlimited belly rubbing access.  If you are a child under the age of 14 and you include the prefix "Auntie" before my name you can sneak in a rub or two.  If we have a preexisting relationship and we know each others children and husbands name's and I can call on you in an emergency then you can also touch my belly other than that if you are not a direct member of my health care team, back the f*ck up!! 

In that same vain...once the baby is born the same general rules apply to asking me about my decision to breast feed or not.  Once after Sara was born I was at the store picking a few things up and this lady behind me in line asked me if I were breastfeeding or not.  I told her, "No, she prefers to drink Coke from her bottle."  Another time I was out in public and another lady, a complete stranger asked if I were breastfeeding or not and I asked her, "when was the last time someone sucked your boobs?"...she just looked at me horrified...yeah, that was the reaction I was looking for. 

So here is my proposal to the legislatures...if you touch a pregnant belly without permission it should be considered assault.  If you ask someone, "are you sure there aren't two in there?"  that is harassment.  If you continue the verbal assault with more than one inappropriate or insensitive remark that is stalking.  I am also going to push that the 3 strikes rule applies here...if you do any combo and it amounts to 3 offenses sorry, you lose...you will be locked up for life and your punishment will be to wear a simulated pregnancy belly and walk through society for the rest of your natural life to get a taste of your own medicine. 

So today while out and about on a family adventure I had someone ask when I was due...I lied.  I said in 2 weeks.  She smiled and said "good luck"...I guess until government passes my law of classifying pregnant women as a protected class that should just be my standard answer...makes life simpler.