I just finally went in and moderated comments from people who haven’t posted before (this prevents spammers from being able to post, because it won’t accept comments from new email addresses without my personal stamp of approval), and found yours. They’ve been approved — sorry it took a week! 🙂
Thanks for the wellwishes. You guys are both sweethearts.
I’ve been having racy dreams lately about Joe from Blue’s Clues. Like Summer Fling-type dreams. When you know you’re never going to see this person again, so it’s especially wonderful and decadent.
The last one ended badly, though. I was running down a hill after being all doe-eyed at Joe (whose name was either Patrick or Thomas, my subconscious couldn’t decide), and I had to fish Helen out of a pond. Scared the shit out of me. Woke me up, too, but the image of her there is still nagging at me.
I don’t like it when I have nightmares about things happening to my children. It brings the realization that I am responsible for these little people right to the forefront of my mind, and that’s at times terrifying. Especially when I’m not functioning at even a reasonable percentage of my usual strength.
I’m tired of hurting. It’s been a week, and only today am I able to sit upright for more than a minute or two. Last night I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night for more painkillers — a first. I want to be able to help Jerry around the house more, because I know he’s going crazy from trying to be Mommy and Daddy at the same time. And the girls miss me. And I miss them. As crazy as they can make me, they bring immeasurable joy to my life. I love it when Helen says, “Mommy, let’s snuggle,” and then nuzzles up against me. And when Alice sees me after I’ve been out of the room for a few minutes and she squeals, “Hiiiiiii!” Precious.
I love these little creatures, even if the nightmares I have now are at a greater intensity than they EVER were when they were just about me.
The pain associated with this is far worse than anything else I have ever experienced. Worse than healing after jaw surgery, worse than the pain before the jaw surgery, worse than either childbirth experience or subsequent recoveries. Worse than back labor with Alice, because at least that came in waves of pain, and not a constant stream of torture.
I have been lying down for a week now. In the adjustable bed at the hospital, I could elevate my head a bit and wedge a rolled-up blanket under one buttock to take the pressure off, and thus feel like I was sitting up even when I wasn’t. At home, we don’t have an adjustable bed, so I don’t have that luxury. And I’m going stir crazy.
I just really want to be able to sit up, but I can’t. I even had Jerry go digging around in the linen closet to find the inflatable doughnut pillow that I sat on for the first 5 weeks after Helen was born. Even when we barely inflate that, it’s more than I can handle — too much pressure.
So I roll up on my hip and just wait. I know that in a month or so, I’ll be very glad I did this, but right now I have buyer’s remorse. Jerry is weary of playing scrubnurse and I’m weary of being unable to help when I can hear the kids going nutso on him downstairs.
Fast Forward to November, anyone? That would be just fine with me.
So this morning, after I took my laxatives, put my jaw splint into an Efferdent soak and pulled on my Depends undergarment, for a split-second I wondered if I’m in some sort of time warp. No, wait, I’m still in my thirties. OK.
On the upside: food is starting to taste a little more normal. Thank God.