So, it’s been a while.
This blogging thing needs your time. You know it’s there, waiting, but there are Oh so many more important things to do, than write.
This is my luxury. This is my think time, my quiet time.
(Now might be the appropriate time to admit that I like to edit my photos and add sparkles!)
It works for us, but I’m not a preacher. I used to be, but I was paid to be. Now it’s my way and that was a different life.
So. Time. I should actually be asleep so this isn’t ‘actually’ spare time but I’m gonna be a rebel!! Get me!
I sleep a lot. It’s part of my illness and it’s part of my treatment. It’s also a side effect.
To get it all out of the way, I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Well, I’ll begin as it might take me a while and I’ll probably digress. I’ll mention my husband a few times during my tale. Right now, today, April 9th 2014, he is still my husband but I am expecting the Decree Nici to land on my doormat with a premeditated extra ominous thud, in the next week or so. He’s my one and only husband and the father of my baby. Until I start talking about the present and stop recanting my story, I may as well just call him ‘my husband’. Hmmmmnn……..
I was told that I had SPD- Symphysis Pubis Disorder which can be misdiagnosed, cross diagnosed or also referred to as Pelvic Girdle Pain. Basically, a quick way to describe it, is too much and often a far too early release of a hormone called Relaxin. The hormone does as it says on the tin and relaxes your pelvic muscles to allow your body to stretch and a watermelon to pass through. Too much too soon = flippy flappy pelvis. Open your legs more than an inch and you’ll want to die from the searing pain. It generally affects between your legs and therefore some range of movement but can also affect the back of your pelvis and quite often cause sciatica. Standing is hard, hoovering is discouraged (hurrah!!) and you find novel ways of doing things such as putting a plastic bag on your car seat in order to easily swivel your legs inside the car without parting them!
This was what I was facing, although I was told by more than one midwife that they thought I had something else going on. I spent a few nights in hospital throughout my pregnancy- more to get on top of the pain and get some rest due to a more suitable environment than my home, than for any risk to me or my baby but it all began to take its toll on myself and my husband. My family went out of their way to spend time with me during the day and to try and get me out and about etc. My mum bed bathed me when necessary, helped me in the bathroom, dressed me, cleaned, cooked, washed, ironed. You name it. Both she and my sister took on far too much and gave every minute of their spare time to me. My dad busied himself by helping us to make to improvements to the house (he and my brother in law made space for and fitted a cast iron log burner) and dad arranged all the planning required for a new roof and oversaw everything. All whilst trying to keep my spirits up. Everyone dug deep. My husband threw himself into work and being my physical carer but emotionally, just didn’t have it in him to be there.
Out relationship began to crumble and depression crept in as my stomach grew and the pain increased.
Thanks for reading and please leave a comment.