Posts Tagged ‘truth’

Thinking of you.

May 22, 2013

Lately I am mourning that third (and fourth?) child we didn’t get to have. As we enter the warmth of the year, when TMD’s belly should have been swelling and almost ripe, suddenly I am thinking about those babies that didn’t grow. The ones in her belly, the ones in that petri dish, the ones from four years ago.

We are entering a new stage in life. The kids are taking their own clothes off. That doesn’t sound like much, but oh, how much it portents. The independence. The ease at going out with them. The trust I have in their good sense and wide hearts, which grows deeper every day.

I know a baby or two would complicate that.

But I miss that baby.


I never lie on my blog. (Or: An excerpt from my new book, 293 fast & easy ways to mess your kids up for life!)

June 25, 2010

We had black bean quesadillas for lunch.

Snort just pooped and his poop had visible beans – a usual sight round these here parts. The amazing part is that his poop smelled JUST like the quesadillas.

I was actually attracted to it. I floated up out of my body and watched as I wiped his butt, sniffing deeply, and said, ‘Mmmm….I could wipe this right off here, honey, and put it on a tortilla and eat it right up! Yum yum!’

I got sweaty!

January 28, 2010

Um, hello today! Hello! Hi. How ya doin’?

I went for my first ever ever walk outside while tandem wearing the babies today. Coconut was semi-securely (ha!) in my new-to-me purple wrap on the front, while Snort was having a very good look around at the world from my new-to-me Connecta on my back! Aussie was here, so she popped on his hat once he was on me – and then popped on her baby in the Close carrier we have on loan.

No, this isn’t just a list of the carriers we used today.

It’s pointing out that: 1) I left the house during the day, 2) I left the house while babywearing today, 3) I walked today.

We didn’t go far. Just to the end of our little street, turn right, walk a bit, come back. Then down the side of our house on the path through the green green space, back into the house. Voile. Hey presto. Maybe about ten minutes, realistically speaking.

But I did it.

I did. Me. The one who’s been in a wheelchair for months? The one who can be in so much pain from SPD that it hurts me to change diapers? Yeah, me. ME. The past few days I have noticed a dramatic reduction in my SPD pain. So much so that I have been focused on my aching back muscles (if you think wearing babies doesn’t work your muscles, oh, my friend, think again!) and not really noticing any major SPD pain. My right hip is still tricky, and my back pelvic joint is still a little bitchy, but on the whole I think I have made some major healing steps.

Oh, and my other dream came true. As we were walking down the street, my crazy ass train friend John ran out of his house after us to say hello. He’s gotten a divorce, and I asked him if I was the reason he had done so. Obviously, he said yes.

He also thought Walnut was Snort, and Aussie was just a pal helping me walk my babies. Yes, because I have one white baby and one brown baby. While that is possible, I suppose, is it likely? That being said, I want to take a minute to sing the praises of my favourite non-child baby. He is lush. (And not just because he clearly adores my all singing, all dancing auntie ass.)

As is his mother. Having a friend like Aussie is priceless. I say, let me tell you all my crazy thoughts. She nods and tells me her crazy thoughts, which fit beside mine like pieces of a puzzle. She says, let me tell you how fucking weird I am with my partner, I nod and say, yes, I did that to TMD last week. Utter and complete honesty on both sides brings me laughter and relief.

So does this little ten minute walk. The only downside is that I didn’t have my camera to make John take a picture of Aussie, me, and the three bablets – or to make Aussie take a picture of me with John. Ha!

Not yet.

August 28, 2009

Just read this article (linked midway through) and it made me both cry and feel better.

I am feeling incredibly down about this SPD pain and the effects it is having on my ability to care for my children. I thought I had felt glum about this during pregnancy, but I had no idea. Yesterday I woke up crying, cried throughout the day, and the middle of the night festivities culminated in me repeating, ‘I am rubbish, I am rubbish, I am rubbish’ over and over again. TMD has been hovering nervously, and she took the time to read the article about postpartum depression that the health visitor gives to all new parents.

To a certain extent, I believe I am having a normal reaction to a terrible situation. However, my ‘normal reaction’ is pretty horrid, and I need to take care to be mindful of my mental health. The study linked above mentioned the devestating effects SPD can have on mental health, and I can believe it.

I feel like I am missing all the normal parts of being a mother. I can’t change their nappies. I have difficulties holding them for long periods of time, and there is no chance of me picking them up and giving them a cuddle. I can’t carry them around. I could go on and on – it is getting pretty easy to fixate on the negative. Even things as simple as not being able to shift position in bed, meaning I can’t put them over my shoulder to burp them (both of their preferred positions).

I just sob and sob, apologising to them. To TMD. I feel like I am letting my babies down. All I want to do is cuddle and care for them, and I am just as stuck in one position as I was before, and if anything, things have gotten slightly worse. I have the ability to get myself on and off the couch/bed which is lovely, but due to the fact that I am no longer sporting a giant bump. The pain has not gotten better. I am on mega painkillers now, and it still hurts more than it did when I was pregnant. Next week I am getting a home visit from a physio, and you’d better believe I am not going to fuck around with their advice. Exercise? You got it. I’ll do whatever you say, ma’am, just make me get better.

I don’t want to stay like this.

It’s a bad limbo period. The babies are two and a half weeks old – I was warned I’d still have to have the crutches for a good few weeks, but right now I don’t know whether this is a normal part of recovery, or if I will be one of the freaky few who have SPD for a long time after birth. We often have more than one medical professional in the house at a time, and I am always being referred to like this – ‘Existere has very severe SPD.’  ‘Existere is incapacitated.’ ‘Existere has SPD, which is excruciating.”In extreme cases, women like Existere may need crutches.’ (Um, hello? A zimmer frame and wheelchair, bitches.)

The word ‘severe’ is used again and again, much more than it was when I was still pregnant. Maybe they expected me to rebound. A bitter part of me, looking for someone to blame, points to the fact that the morning after my c section, they made me walk through the ward, down the hall, and to the bathroom. Thanks to that experience, I passed out for the first time in my life, an alarm cord was pulled, and I had about six people to help me back off the toilet – and wipe me. And then back into a wheelchair. I should never have been expected to walk that far, and I should have stood up for myself.

I don’t know. I can’t look at the babies while they sleep (TMD is on my side of the bed, cot pulled up so it nestles to her) because I wouldn’t actually be able to shift position or respond quickly enough should there be a vomit alert.

I feel inept, useless, a burden. I feel I am letting my children down. I feel pointless, and useless, and in love with little babies I am not touching as much as I should. I almost find myself shying away from feeding them, because I feel it is one more area I will screw up (to the second degree, though you don’t know about that yet) or let them down.

My mother asks every day, surprise and worry in her voice, ‘You aren’t walking yet?’