Separated at Birth

I’m starting to find a rhythm in this new, post wheelchair, post pelvic reconstruction surgery life with my husband and son. And I think making it all work is getting easier with each passing week.

For the last several weeks I have noticed that by the end of the weekend I’m more aware of my pelvis than I should be. It isn’t pain, the threshold for that has completely changed. But I can feel my pelvis slightly aching, telling me it is time to rest.

I asked my husband once “Can you feel your pelvis when you move?” He said no, he never thinks about it. That’s why I’m describing it as more aware of it than I should be. It isn’t that it is causing terrible pain. It is just not quite is just not quite like it is supposed to be. My pelvis is the “Where’s Waldo, “sticking out a bit among the crowd of properly functioning bones, muscles and joints.

It is really nothing compared to what I felt every day between the day I separated my pelvis (diastasis symphysis pubis, during the natural delivery of my son) and surgery. But compared to my pre-delivery situation, when running 6 miles and then hauling in a month worth of groceries was not unheard of, it is noticeably uncomfortable and hurts when I move too quickly.

What I’m trying to pay attention to now is whether that slight ache shows up no matter what or just because I’ve done too much. I’m guessing it will take more than a few weekends to establish that. And at the same time I know I am still healing. But I am one who enjoys analysis so I’ll see what I can come up with.

This weekend I bumped into my son’s changing table, which hurt when it happened and caused me to be very tender in the afternoon and evening. I used heat when went to bed and this morning I felt very good. We had a pretty eventful day at home today with cleaning, laundry, watching my Colts pull out an exciting victory at the last second and trying out a new recipe for sloppy fauxs (sloppy joes for veggies and vegans), made with lentils. I didn’t get the least bit sore today until about 10 p.m. There were a few times I had to stop what I was doing and stretch my legs out, but it was a pretty good day.

I’m finding my place again as a worker in the family. It is amazing how good it feels to do a load of laundry, clean the counter top or scoop a cat litter box when you haven’t been able to for so long. Every day I have more admiration for my husband, who not only was Super Dad, but in a lot of ways was super human, doing the work of two people at home, plus the added work of caring for me and our son.

My mind keeps going back to something one of my son’s teachers at daycare said to me a few weeks ago. When I was confined to the wheelchair I didn’t go in to drop off the Little Guy with my husband (we carpool to work so we are always together at drop off time). Now that I can drive, I often pick up my son alone on nights there are home games my husband has to work. One of those afternoons, one of the girls and I were talking about how glad I was to be doing things again. She said: “I bet [your husband] is glad too, he always looked so stressed in the mornings.” He never admitted feeling stressed. It was just what he needed to do then.

I hope this rhythm I’m finding helps him feel like part of a team again and not alone in the work of our family. I hope this rhythm also helps me to be able to continue to measure my progress and set limits for myself when necessary.

And I hope this new rhythm includes hiking and camping on the weekends at the first sign of spring.