On my own today, after TMD stayed home again yesterday. (aka my daughter said ‘cat’ and my son gives kisses)

I have to try to pull myself out of my slump.

So. Last night Coconut said ‘cat’. They seem to like learning words during quiet cuddly times. The cat walked slowly by and it was a similar thing to when Snort said it. She tried, we both said ‘cat’, she (whispering, oh so cute) was going ‘tuh, tuh, tuh’, we said ‘cat’, she went ‘cuh cuh cuh’, we said ‘cat’, she said ‘cat.’

This sort of active repeating doesn’t happen unless they want it to happen. No, my children are not merrily imitating me going, ‘maaa maaa maa, baa baa baa.’ No. But put a cat in front of their faces, and blam-o. You’ve got two takers.

Coconut has also learned to wave and now knows what it means. Fuck, her fact just LIGHTS up when she gets a chance to wave at me.

And Snort? Total Mama’s boy. Loves his kisses and hugs – and been giving kisses for a couple of weeks now. Usually prefaced by me saying, ‘Can Mama have kisses?’ He opens his mouth into a little ‘o’, leans forward, and then licks at my lips. Um. STOP JUDGING. It is cute.

When Mil was here last week, she was snuggling him. Then, out of nowhere, he gave her a kiss on her cheek!

These kids are so so sweet.

And, just to be obsessive – I’m now wondering if the accident fucked up my right SI joint badly and it was not noticed due to the pain of my completely fucked up leg at the time. Because, actually, the ‘front’ pain did go away after the birth, and I was left with the back pain. The back pain that preceded the front pain during pregnancy by about 9 or 10 weeks. Hrm.

Doctor’s appointment next Friday and I will try to relax until then. My period should be coming this weekend and I surely hope it does. That will mark the beginning of the end of another monthly pain pain PAIN festival. I’m also seeing my osteo tomorrow and going to have a serious talk with her about the fact that I’m not really sure she is helping things. Yes, she has made a big difference to my tailbone pain. And, I suppose, my spinal pain. But the SPD? Nada.

She’s not doing manual therapy per se, and I wonder if I shouldn’t be seeing someone who is.

Anyway.

Cat. Kisses.

Cat. Kisses.

Cat. Kisses. Waving.

It is enough, but I want more. All I ever wanted was to have children, and I find that now that I have them, all I ever want is to be able to live a pain-free, ‘normal’ life with them.

Reality.

No, I have not read Under the Dome. I’d like to, though – once read a short excerpt and thought it sounded excellent. (Replying to my comments!!)

Today I am reading The Dark Half, which is probably one of his only books I’ve not ever read. Why am I reading rather than taking care of babies? Oh, I can’t walk. CAN’T WALK.

I am always writing about how I can’t walk. It’s true. On the best of days, I can walk about 3 minutes in a row. But our flat is teeny and generally I’m fine and living a ‘normal’ life within these walls.

Today? On crutches again. Just popped some codeine. Can barely move.

Have spent a good ten minutes this morning crying again. I don’t want this to be my life. A great friend on twitter said I am always so positive: about parenting, about spd, about life. I guess I am. But this ball of fear and panic and depression is growing, slowly but surely. Feeling pretty much assured that This Is It Now. This Is My Life.

Disabled.

Maybe all of you can keep the hope for me, please, because today I’m just going to curl up in bed and lose myself.

Passing on a Bloggy (like a Soapy, but for blogging. And not part of a hit tv show.)

I’m a lazy mofo, which is why I have not passed on a blogger award I’ve received. I’ve been given it by a few people (sorry if I miss you out, please let me know and I’ll link to you): Pottymouth Mommy, Gliding Through Motherhood, WannaBeMom Erin, and 2momswithaplan (this links to their new blog).

But I recommend all these ladies as great bloggers. And what makes a blogger great? Honesty.

So, onto the terms of the ‘honest scrap’ award (and it’s interesting to watch these things morph as it gets passed on – like a giant game of telephone). Tell 10 things about yourself, and then suggest 10 blogs other people might like to read. (You know, if you like Existere Perfume, you’ll love ThisOtherBlogger’s scent, too.)

My ten:

1. I grew up nearish a waterslide place. Every single summer when I was little, we would go there, get the little bracelet pass on my wrist, and I would climb the slide with my father. I never agreed to go down it. We went down the stairs every time. (I now LOVE waterslides.)

2. I am really, really afraid I am going to be disabled for life. It’s hard to be enlightened about wheelchairs and things when it looks like it might actually be your reality, I’ll tell you.

3. I never wore jeans as a kid. I don’t think it was just about my fear of buttons, I think it was that my mother helped raised me to be fashion impaired. I went to Catholic school and once in eighth grade there was a ‘dress down’ day. Everyone wore jeans. I wore a pink sweatsuit. This may explain my lack of friendships as well.

4. My favourite author, WITH NO CLOSE COMPETITION, is Stephen King. I think of him as an honest writer, and a down and dirty storyteller, and I can’t give higher praise than that.

5. 99.9999999% of the time I love being a stay at home Mama, and I hope that if TMD has a baby next time round, or we adopt, than I can still be the one who is at home. I know she wants to be at home, too – perhaps this is one of the perils of lesbianism? But there is still that .00000000001% of me who is jealous of the great conference on All Things Gay TMD is going to soon for work. I miss conferences. Especially about gay things. I miss shitty work trainings, and I miss getting paid to play on Facebook. (Though they didn’t realize they were paying me to dick around – most of the time.)

6. The horrible truth is that when my morning sickness was at its worst, I actually wished for 3 minutes that I would have a miscarriage. I now cannot imagine ever being that sick, because Snort and Coconut are my life – and what’s a little puke?? (Although if we’re all honest, I guess it was a fuck of a lot more than just a LITTLE puke, wasn’t it. More like gallons and gallons….per day.) I feel guilty typing this because of my blogger friends struggling with babyloss and/or infertility, but it is my truth. My unfortunate and unbelievable truth….. And this is my first time sharing it.

7. One time at our weekly ski club, my ‘friends’ all went up in the chairlift together. There was an odd number, so I went alone. They got off before me and took off, hiding. For years and years, I hated being the odd person out. Luckily, I had grown in my charms by the time I hit university, so I wasn’t left out. (And I made real friends.)

8. I’m pretty much the same in real life as I am on the internet – I share too much information (is there such a thing?), I tell stories a lot, I like to laugh, I am drowning in baby poop.

9. I have been a serial religion hopper: Catholic, CofE/Christian, Wiccan curious, Quaker, weirdo new ager, agnostic, etc. I am now pretty committed to Buddhism and don’t see that changing any time soon.

10. I love haunted houses and ghost walks. I cannot wait until Coconut and Snort are old enough that we can go to, uh, Country S and drag them onto every haunted graveyard tour and underground ghost walk there is.

Now, to recommend some blogs I don’t think I’ve recommended before, or have only just found….the only link is that they are all honest (or they’ve done a good job making me think they are!):

1. The Shape of a Mother (sort of a blog…but 400% honest)

2. I can haz bebe?

3. Apieceofwood

4. somewhataloof

5. catsandcradles

(Did I say no link?? I meant a huge link. So far, we’ve got people struggling with infertility, those ttc, people going through adoption, and those lucky enough to have a child….wow, since having kids I apparently only like reading about other people who want/have kids.)

6. pshouseblog

7. poppycat

8. begayaboutit

9. veeandjay

10. shriekhouse

11. (sensitive content about babyloss) wednesdayswithmalou

Also wanted to link to diagnosis: urine, but for some odd reason I can only see it in my reader, not in real life to get the addy. Hrm.

I do, of course, read other blogs. Writers, people with mental health issues, photography blogs, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand about 7000000 other ones.

Thank you for my award, lovely people. I pass it on…..NOW.

Kisses to her from him, from them to me, from me to you.

Thank you guys for your incredible support here, on twitter, on facebook, by email. Every single well wisher means a lot to me. Blogging is a funny business. It’s so easy to dip in and out of someone else’s life without ever saying a word to them. That you all come here and support me as I struggle to recover (pleasepleaseplease) from this grueling problem? Wow.

And from the babies:

hoah hoah hoah bob bob bob mamamamamam dad DAD babababbababa

Yes, that’s right. Aside from the occasional ‘cat’ or ‘mama’, we’re full swing back into baby babble land. I don’t mind. As cool as it was to hear the odd word, we’re now fully babies again!

The only shit thing is that Snort seems to have convinced Coconut to start saying ‘dad’ as well. Fucking hell, man.

They are such bright bursts of sunshine in my life. As we speak she is headfirst under a chair. He was lying next to her and has just ROLLED RIGHT OVER HER like a steamroller while she giggled. He ended up with his feet in her face – she continues laughing, he cries. Bless.

Just moved him away from her and how her face fell! I don’t know what it means that she enjoys being kicked in the face so much. Let’s chalk it all up to her in utero experience and try not to make this mean anything for her future, hey?

I am not being crushed by pain today, merely plagued and punished. So off to work TMD goes. I am going to try to get a lot of play in with the babies, but it’s hard as movement is a tricky one. Move too little and I hurt, move too much and I hurt.

And on a cheerier note:

kisses.

SPD day chats, #2.

Any of these, on their own, can lead to pelvic girdle pain. I have ALL of them:

• trauma to the pelvis (this one is key for severe SPD)
• twin pregnancies
• hypermobility (pre-existing)
• higher maternal age
• first pregnancies

I’ve just made an appointment to see a doctor next Friday. Never seen him/her before, but I know s/he refuses to make referrals for circumcisions (cool) and abortions (uncool).

I need to see a doctor to get referrals. I know I probably need another referral to the specialist physio, though she does approximately fuck all. I may request x rays as well – general x rays (never had them from the accident due to pregnancy) and stork x rays (a diagnostic tool for symphasis pubis distasis – don’t think I have this, as most of my pain remains in a back joint). May also request referral to an orthopedic surgeon.

I still do not want surgery (VERY slow and painful recovery, very low success rates). I prefer the ‘wait and see’ approach. Apparently, my facebooky friends I’ve made as a result of the pelvic instability support group on there have all been told it is a period of 2 years postpartum recovery. Wikipedia says there is a mean recovery of 6.25 years, taking longer for more severe cases. Yikes.

I think the whole 2 year thing is because that is when you largely stop carrying your babies (in arms or otherwise, though I know loads of babywearers carry on). Because…..yes, weight bearing is a large cause of ongoing pain, particularly in the back joint. By age 2, I should have lost all the babybabyweight as well.

The surgeon, though, is someone I feel might be in the best position to give me answers. All of that aside, I am terrified to see a surgeon. I’ve been avoiding going to the doctor because I’ve still been thinking this will all just go away. It isn’t.

Today is the first day I am thinking I may genuinely choose not to have another pregnancy. I have been thinking about this a lot in recent months, and mourning, but today it doesn’t feel so sad. Today I look at my son and daughter – that I am SO LUCKY to have – and I think, I’d rather be able to have a life with them where I am walking and free, then risk going through this again.

I really do hope I recover. I cannot imagine this being my life; I can’t even believe it has been my life for so long already.

Chronic, longterm SPD.

TMD had to stay home from work today, as I dissolved into a puddle of tears on the couch this morning. My SPD is always, always worst when I am tired (check) and just before my period (check). I didn’t want her to stay home, to ‘waste’ a day of leave on me sleeping and in pain. I knew that while the day would be hard, we would get through. Because that’s what I do, even on the most painful of days: I get through.

Sometimes I leave the room the babies are in and have a quick cry, wiping my face off before coming back in to kiss their heads.

Today I was sort of high pitched wailing, but Coco looked over with such concern on her little face. Oh, I do love them.

TMD was also in tears.

I don’t mean to whine, just to chronicle what life is like when you have been essentially housebound – couchbound – for over a year. My babies are over 8 months old, and I have been sitting or lying in this lounge since I was 19 weeks pregnant. My SPD started when I was around 10 weeks pregnant.

The Osteo said something along the lines of that she would bet her professional reputation on the fact that my SPD got so severe, and developed so early, because I was run over in pregnancy. She says I probably would have still developed it, but a milder, friendly version much later in pregnancy. Remember how I didn’t sue the guy because I felt it was enough that my babies were okay? Now I wished I’d taken him to the fucking cleaners, I tell you.

So now there is extreme guilt mixed in with everything else. Like this is my fault. MORE my fault than if I’d just had an unruly body. My fault because I saw a pedestrian crossing and chose to just nip straight across the road. TMD says this is the sort of thing people in that city do dozens of times a day without even thinking about it and I was just unlucky. I believe her, but still think, ‘I did this to myself.’ Of course, I had the help of my motorbike driving friend.

At any rate, I went back to bed and sort of passed out into a weird stupor for three hours. Feeling better now. Physically and emotionally.

I know someone who has had SPD for like 14 years. Kids, let’s all hope that if you’re still reading my blog 12 years from now (!), all this SPD stuff is just a long distant memory.

Month 1 Stats

Weight lost this month:  7 pounds
Total weight loss: 20 pounds

Inches lost…(the starting point for this is at the start of this month)

hips: 2.5 inches
waist: 2.5 inches
torso (though we argue over where this is!): 3.75 inches
bust: 2.5 inches
right arm: same
right thigh: .75 inches

This month was really a okay. Glad I lost as much as I did, especially considering I GAINED two pounds one of the weeks! You can see my weekly weight loss progress by clicking ‘Sunday slimdowns’ (or whatever I’ve titled it) in the right sidebar.

The first week I was hungry constantly. Constantly.

By the end of the month, I was not so much feeling the hunger, and got fuller much more quickly when eating.

My game plan? No counting calories or points yet. Merely NO SNACKING whatsoever between meals (the exception being what I eat with the babies when they are chowing down), and no real crap. We are not a house that does desserts anyway, so this isn’t a huge problem.

Felt like I was eating pretty much normally this month – it really is the snacking and grazing that piles on the pounds for me.

Onwards and upwards into month 2 I go!

Conversations with my wife: #2

Me: You know what would be a really horrible way to die?

TMD: Hmm?

Me: If they stuck a stick of dynamite up your ass, and then lit the fuse. You’d have to be listening to the SSSSSSH of the fuse, knowing it was going to blow up.

TMD: *long pause* You are so fucked up. You are deranged. Normal people do not think of these things.

Me: *long pause* I guess you could try to poop it out. *I squat to mime pooping out dynamite*

TMD: Stop it.

Me: Actually, I guess if you managed to poop it out, you could then kick it away from you.

TMD: You couldn’t, I couldn’t, maybe David Beckham could.

Me: I don’t know – we could kick the stick of dynamite, it just wouldn’t go far. I don’t know what the range of dynamite is, though, and if it would blow us up anyway.

TMD: No, me either.

*life carries on*

Just me, chatting at you.

I’m here, I’m here. Haven’t had time to upload the video where I teach Coconut ‘the plan laugh’ (aka MWAHHAHAHAHAHA), but it is super delicious funky good amazing. You will like it when you see it.

Things going okay here on day two with Mil. The babies are shining stars, but their schedules are all haywire from the changes. Mil’s sister has been over today and it’s been fun, but I’ve spent most of the time on the floor and my pain levels are through the fucking roof! Or should I say, sunk through the bottom of the floor, one level closer to hell. Good thing I don’t believe in a literal hell, hey?

Both babies are now champion sitters. Coconut sat for like 40 minutes this morning, no problems. And Snort has now caught up with her in the standing stakes. All very exciting stuff.

Aw. Just looked at them. Both of them made their way over to me from the other end of the room, to say hi, and as I looked he grabbed her head and gave her kisses. I am perpetually amazed at the level of love these two are already showing each other. It is a great, grand, glorious blessing. Twins fucking RAWK, yo.

I’ve been rereading my entire pregnancy in this blog, and have been interested to see that my ‘back clicking in and out’ nonsense started before 12 weeks. I didn’t realise it was that early. I also forgot about the near constant vomiting and weight loss. Ah, every second of it was worthwhile. But I admit, while I’ve been reading this, I’ve been wondering why the fuck I would ever want to be pregnant again.

I think I did hit a glory phrase at about 18 weeks – no more puking, sunny happy attitude – and then I ended up confined to home due to pain. So I had about a week that was AWESOME. Whenever I wonder why I would consider pregnancy again, I look down and see these niblets at my feet and I remember.

That being said, I have a long way to go physically before I could even begin to consider another pregnancy – probably a singleton pregnancy this time. I get all worked up and worried when I think about the sheer amount of work it is – my fear of doing all the IVF and then not ending up with a baby. In reality, I am beyond lucky that I ended up pregnant with these two on the first cycle we ever tried to conceive on. I do not envy the women who try and try and try – and I hope this paragraph has not hurt any of you.

I want some people to be pregnant or to have a successful adoption so much it almost feels like when I was trying to get pregnant again.

I also thought that the blogs I read while pregnant have been my mother’s group. Like Tatiana. We were pregnant and blogging at the same time, and now I feel like I have a connection to her little girl. Funny, isn’t it. A world away, and I feel that that gorgeous little girl is my niece and we should be hanging out every day! And Christy feels like someone I DO hang out with every day – though I suppose I do via the wonders of twitter. Ain’t the internet grand?

That being said, there is something to be said for real life people. Funny, though, how the people I wish were my ‘real life’ hanger outers are people I have met online. It’s like I’m in university again.

Anyway, I am going to soak up this hour of sitting on the couch because as soon as Mil and her sis get back, I will probably be relocated to the floor. *sigh*

This time feels so different. I Am A Mother. Last time Mil was here, obviously I was a mum, but didn’t necessarily feel like it. I didn’t know what to do, when to do it, or how to do it. Now I’m like, stop waving that shit in his face – he’s trying to sleep! And also, just give her to me, dude, she needs to eat.

No bad violations yet. Mil has moved the babies away from the kitchen table chairs – fine, I can see why that might make someone nervous. She also made a comment about Snort playing with my Crocs – again, I can see the logic behind that. The only thing that has happened that worried me was today when Coco was gagging on a big ass piece of pear, she hunkered down and banged on her back – I think this was only because her sister was here and a few minutes earlier when Snort was gagging, the sister put on a baby voice aand said, ‘Please, mummy, do something! Why are you letting me choke? Hit me on the back.’

It didn’t seem to matter that I explained no choking was happening, just food on their tongues triggering their gag reflexes. And LEAVE THEM ALONE THEY CAN HANDLE THIS. Ha, a far cry from when their initial gagging terrified me so badly I stopped feeding them solids for two days. Now I’m like, dude, you’re fine. Spit it up or swallow it: these are your options. I certainly never bang on their fucking backs.

The sister also asked how tall ‘daddy’ was after saying Coco was short. I had no clue who she meant by ‘daddy’, until I realised she meant the sperm donor. Ugh. This comment was borne out of ignorance and curiousity, but why the fuck would some guy (admittedly generous guy who shared his sperm with us) we have never met be entitled to be called ‘daddy’? Awkward and also – WHAT THE FUCK, YO.

A quick break from your (and my) regularly scheduled programming.

…and just to say, Mil is gonna be here all week, so posting will probably be less than usual….