The Straw

So recovering from childbirth has been an astounding process for me. I won't bore you or gross you out with the details (and I don't really want to publish my medical history for the whole world wide web to read), but it's been a long, slow, frustrating process. In the last month it had begun to seem like I was starting to get better and start actually doing things again, like getting settled into our house or even just doing the regular housework regularly.

Then my bunyon started acting up again, beginning of last week I got a nursing-related infection, Eric got sick (he's had a fever for 12 days) and then the Straw happened, you know, the one that breaks the mommy's back (I figure the substitution works, mommies are beasts of burden, aren't they?).

I was doing laundry on Tuesday. And since our washer/dryer is on the fritz and Eric is too busy AND too sick to do anything about it, doing laundry meant hauling everything down to the building's machines. Which isn't THAT far. And I wrenched my back a bit, not horribly, or so I thought. It kept getting worse until Thursday morning when I tried to pick up Jane out of her crib and I just about dropped her the pain was so bad. The doc says I may have a herniated disk and I started physical therapy that very day. I can now stand straight for short periods of time and can walk around without looking like I need a cane, but still no lifting. Last night I thought I could get away with pouring my own glass of milk, you know since the half gallon was only half full. Nope. Too heavy.

Strangely, that's not the Straw. The Straw occurred when, in the light of recent events, I had to come to terms with the necessity of weaning Jane sooner rather than later. It broke my heart. It's adding insult to injury, a real spit in the eye, that not only am I unable to pick my daughter up out of her crib, unable to dress her and tickle her and change her bum, unable to sit and watch her kick in the bathtub, unable to even hold her and cuddle with her; but that I have to give up nursing, too.

Well, not yet. It's too traumatic for the both of us currently. She spends the day with some good-hearted friend(s) from our church and I'm stuck on my back aching for my baby. Yes, I'm complaining. Because it sucks. And no one said I had to be happy about sucky things.