Moving forward with determination and hope.

The post I just wrote is true. I don’t want to take away from how low I am feeling. But I also don’t want to take away that this is hopefully just a setback in my life. My physical problems now are opening my mind and heart to new experiences, new ways to see the world, new ways to be grateful for what I have.

New ways to be courageous.

I have begun seriously studying Nichiren Buddhism again, and taking courage and strength from what I learn. I need to work in time to practice, because in this Buddhism, in the ‘Buddhism of daily life’ and humanism, there is a belief that I can change this situation. We all have self-responsibility and power and choice.

I need to build my wisdom, courage, and compassion – particularly my compassion towards myself. I am full of self-doubt and blaming my body, but look what my body has given me:

Daisaku Ikeda said a few things in a speech that sort of felt arrowed at me and this situation. (And for clarification, ‘prayer’ in these quotes refers to chanting, though also the courage to take tangible actions to improve your life.)

Prayer – It is the courage not to give up. It is a struggle to banish cowardice within your life that keeps haunting you, ‘I can’t do it.’ ‘My present circumstances can be changed. Surely it can!’ Prayer is an endeavour to engrave this conviction in the depths of your life.

Prayer – It is to destroy fear. It is to banish sorrow. It is to ignite hope. It is a revolution to re-write destiny. Believe in yourself! Never look down upon yourself! Because despising yourself is equivalent to going against Buddhism. It is a degradation of the Buddhahood in your own life.

Prayer – It is a challenge to fit the gear in your own life with the motion of the universe. It is an exciting drama to embrace the universe, turn the entire cosmos into your ally, reverse the situation and begin directing your life towards happiness.

Without SPD, I never would have been on bedrest so early, and I fully believe all the rest is a huge component to how long I stayed pregnant. My babies also got every little calorie I ate. SPD was a benefit in terms of having full term, singleton sized babies.

It has served its purpose, and now I am ready for it to go.

Just talked to Osteo again, she was very encouraging and reassuring. Also suggested I use a short woven wrap to help bind my pelvis, so am currently sporting my lovely purple Till around my hips.

I can do this.

My body can do this.

But I reserve the right to feel what I feel, and then move forward the best way I can. So much of this problem is about waiting. I can do that, though, right? I waited 38 weeks to meet Snort and Coconut, I can do anything.

Another day, no more dollars.

Struggling again today. It’s the worst when I wake up to only ‘minor’ pain, think I’m getting better, and then 20 minutes later can’t put weight on my right leg. Again.

So I am rebounded into losing hope and joy, despite things like this being in my inbox (Cookie’s rendering of Coconut):

Spent the morning talking about TMD taking that month of unpaid leave. She wants me to get better; she also would love to have that much time with the babies and me. We are starting to discuss this more seriously – how we would need everything planned before she took leave. Like a weekly schedule, with swimming worked in. Like having a real conversation with Osteo about what she thinks.

I am terrified to use up a month’s worth of TMD’s salary from our savings, because how will we ever replace them? This is my last month of maternity pay – so next month we’d go from one-and-a-half salaries down to no salary?

I work part time as a consultant for a certain company, but that is currently earning me the impressive salary of 22.00 a week as I only do two twenty minute slots of work for them. I’m telling you, romance novel a go go is starting to sound like a valid and necessary thing.

The fact that my other back joint is starting to hurt after having never hurt before – it’s like the triumverate of pelvis pain. Need to call my pal Osteo and give her a little update.

I just want this to go away. This morning I’ve actually thought I wouldn’t get pregnant again because this is too terrifying a journey. And there are no guarantees where it will end. Hopefully not financial ruin and a chronic disability, huh?

Thank you all for your support, suggestions, etc. I am reading and rereading every comment, feeling like I’ve got my own team of cheerleaders, and that helps.

The one where I help the Swedish Chef brave the stormy seas of romance.

I need a handy dandy action plan.

Those of you who commented on my earlier post – either here or on Twitter – you have swayed me. I decided to go along with TMD and get an IKEA couch. Who said blog commenters can’t impact on your life, eh? But the sad, sad shame: IKEA has every sort of the bourka-bourka couch online except the one colour we want.

TMD was like, no probs. We will order the white couch (gasp!) and the slip covers in the colour we want. It’s actually cheaper that way. I also pointed out that we could then tye dye the white covers – and no lie, we actually planned to do this. Till we found out that the colour slipcovers we want are not online, either. Apparently everything was in stock last week when she conceived of the great couch buying plan of 2010, so  it’s my fault for being all indecisive.

We may now be buying a couch with a large pattern of flower shaped things; I believe this is the couchie-wouchie bourgie bourgie sort.

In addition to couch debates, we are also discussing the possibility of TMD taking a large chunk of time off work so that our focus can be on me healing. She would do the bulk of the baby work, while I would swim a few times a week, continue osteo, and perhaps slowly work in walks again. And rest. Lots and lots of rest. The main problem here is that the leave would need to be unpaid.

I also feel guilty, like I am making TMD look like a jackass at work. She’s got a pretty important job, and she has to leave early all the time because of her broken wife and eczema covered kids.

Add this discussion to the couch one in The Pot Of Possibility, and perhaps you will end up with some Satisfactory Stew.

(I have my iPod on shuffle, and a Jordan Knight song just came on. Not the good giving-it-to-you and making-you-nice-and-wet one, but some piece of shite I swear I’ve never heard before, and I pray I never hear again.)

Next up: I figure I need a diversion away from my self-pity and pain – a distraction other than Farmville, I mean. Yes, I have decided to cook myself up a little day job….in addition to my other day job of looking after two six month olds by myself. Mama gonna write a romance novel. Yes, really.

I have already thought about using my porn star name to publish under, because I think I would like to keep my real name clear of this sort of writing credit. That being said, I imagine this could be a fun little ditty; I do not want to write a pretend literary piece of chick lit, I want to write a skinny little book with airbrushed Fabios on the cover. 50,000 words of feel good. This is a short word count in the grand scheme of things, but still long enough to make me feel good when I finish it. I plan to publish a pink romance novel, not a blue or purple one (points to you if you know the colour code).

I read a lot of romance novels. Some have good storylines. Some are even written well. A lot make me laugh out loud and read portions to TMD so that we can both gag and roll our eyes. I enjoy reading them, why not enjoy writing them? Hopefully writing in a totally mediocre fashion is as easy as it appears.

I figure this will give me something to do, as well as having the side benefit of helping break my paralizing view towards writing anything unless it is The World’s Greatest Novel That Will Endure For Eternity. Less pressure, you see

TMD is doubtful; she thinks I am too highbrow. Granted, she may have a point. I want the main character to have a name that is a shortening of a famous psychotherapist’s name – but as I pointed out to her, I don’t plan to burden overworked and under-happy housewives with that info. It’s just for me, her, and you.

Couches,  becoming poor(er) and healing, rampant heterosexuality. I think I covered all the salient points.

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Note: This post was all funny and well written, and then it got swallowed up by the unforgiving internet, and I was too tired to try to replicate it. This is phase one of lowering my expectations, heroes and heroines.

I now need to go to bed, sliding between the sheets – the fabric rough on my breasts, causing my nipples to stiffen. Etc etc.