I feel like today was my son’s first St. Patrick’s Day, the first for the three of us celebrating together.
It wasn’t.
My son is coming up on 14 months old. We watched March 17 come and go as a family of three last year. The difference: Last year at this time I was in my first few weeks back to work. My son was about eight weeks old.
For my first few weeks back I wore scrubs because I was so self-conscious of how the binder looked. I walked funny, and terribly slow and unless I was sitting in my chair typing, I hurt. I was able to tune out the pain when I sat the way you tune out an annoying neighbor’s Christmas music in May. But when I had to move it all rushed back. Things were busy at work because the launch of our completely redesigned website was barely two months away. My job title has the word WEB in it and the creation of the position coincided with the redesign. There was no way I could have delayed my return. And it felt good to be part of something.
I’ve found myself feeling that this was a first for us a lot lately when I know logically it is a second. It is as though I am letting myself claim this one because we were robbed of the first. My son is small for his age so people often guess he is younger than he is, I think it some ways that helps with my illusion.
On our second St. Patrick’s Day, after 10 p.m., I am happy to report I have put in a full day of housework, homework, playing with the Little Guy, making a family trip to the grocery store and enjoying an amazing dinner made my my husband. (I’m a lucky girl.) And I have honestly not felt my pelvis today. How AMAZING is that?
My counselor and I have talked about what it would take for me to feel right again. I told her, “when my pelvis becomes irrelevant to the rest of my life. When I can get back to taking it for granted.”
In some ways that will never be true. My husband and I have decided that getting pregnant again isn’t worth the risk for our family so my son will never have a biological sibling and I never experience another pregnancy. (We had decided to have one child before this happened, but now we won’t have the option.) But if in a few years, if I get “baby crazy” I will ultimately think of my pelvis. It is most likely that I will never again run a long distance race. If my husband decides to do that again, I will think of my pelvis. I may not get the chance to teach my son how to ice skate, or go skiing with my guys — because of my pelvis.
But we had a great day today. And I now feel confident that we have many more ahead. I remain determined, committed and filled with gratitude for the surgical team, physical therapist, family and friends who have gotten me to this point.
And my spirits are buoyed by the idea that I could continue to see improvement for another five months.
Separated at Birth 