I haven't been around as I've been spending my time nursing an injury. If you know me in real life you know that I tend to be accident prone. I've had plenty of breaks, sprains, bumps, and bruises in my time and it's mostly just due to general klutzy-ness, but also because it seems that these things just tend to seek me out!
Tuesday afternoon I re-injured my back. Yes, RE-injured. 2 years ago I injured it for the first time lifting a laundry basket. I spent over a week suffering on the couch letting it heal. I saw the doctor when I first did it and he basically said it was a sprain which means there's nothing "they" can do for it. I just have to rest it and let it heal on its own. Good stuff.
The funny, well... not funny-ha-ha, but funny-weird thing is that this time I didn't injure it lifting something. I injured it bending over. Buh? Yeah. Since the first time I injured it my back has never been the same. It gets sore more easily than it used to and has never felt quite as strong. Thank goodness I haven't had any real problems until now, but I guess I knew it was coming.
The first night that I injured it - thankfully this happened very shortly before Hubs was due home from work - I ended up in tears 3 times. Not because of the pain, although I was near tears from that. It's painful! But because I couldn't care for my son. My baby who needs me and can't do anything for himself.
My husband is a wonderful father. He can do everything for Jack that I can. He's completely handi-capable and can handle everything baby-related with very minimal instruction from me. So it's not that I don't think that Jack will be well cared for while I'm resting on the couch. It's that I can't PHYSICALLY do my job. My job is to mother my son. And it really scares and hurts me that I can't do it.
The evening of my re-injury Mark got Jack fed and settled in his bouncy seat right next to me while I was laying on the couch. He then went to rustle up something for dinner. In the meantime, Jack decided he was no longer content to look up at the stuffed animals hanging in front of him while kicking his feet at lightening speeds. He loves doing this, but only for short periods of time. He began to get upset.
Here's how the conversation went:
First, he started with his annoyed fussing: "Hello Momma, I'm finished now. Please pick me up".
My response: "Okay, Jack. You're fine. Just play for a little longer and Daddy will come get you".
The crying picks up: "I saaaaaaid, I'm DONE NOW! Please to be rescuing me from this chair"
Me: "Jack. You're fine. Just a little longer". ::pats him on the leg::
Mark from the kitchen: "I'll be there in literally 2 minutes!"
And then the crying escalates further to full blown tears: "I'M DONE! I'M DONE! I'M DOOOOONE! PICK ME UP MOMMA! PICK ME UP! CAN'T YOU HEAR ME, WOMAN?!"
To me, this was incredibly upsetting. I mean, Jack can clearly see that I'm sitting right there yet I'm not answering his cries aside from reaching over and patting him with my hand.
And at this point Mark returns from the kitchen to not only a crying baby who needs consoling, but also a crying wife. Ugh, it was awful.
The following day my Mom came out to help me take care of Jack. She was wonderfully helpful, but I still hated not being able to do it for myself. It's just something about not being able to act on the mothering instincts that your baby inspires in you.
I'm feeling better today, but I'm still taking meds round the clock to help with the pain. I'm still having a lot of trouble with sitting, which I have to do a lot of with a baby who is still eating every 2-3 hours! And I'm also having trouble bending to pick Jack up or put him down. So frustrating!
Anyway, I'm glad we're going into the weekend. That means that Daddy will be home so that I can rest my back and hopefully be fully healed by next week. And it's supposed to actually be nice this weekend!