I have mentioned my pelvis on this blog before. I’m not sure if I have explained exactly what is wrong with it and I can not be bothered right now going back to check what’s been said, so…
When I was pregnant with Pudding, I was working full-time in a job that, in theory, shouldn’t really involve lifting heavy objects or be physically demanding in any way, really. That’s good, except that it involved lifting at least one heavy case in and out of my car twice a day, often more. It also involved getting down on the floor for the occasional playtime and made frequent use of small, preschooler sized chairs. It is a field, which is dominated by women and I had seen many of them work throughout their pregnancies, up to 37 or 38 weeks in many cases, with little problem. I was not about to be all wussy and claim pregnancy-related difficulty. I was a “new grad” fresh from uni and I was very much under scrutiny, I had to prove myself. To my moronic ‘I must be perfect and the best at everything’ mind it seemed worthwhile to take on two special projects, which were senior roles and kind of trebled the stress and demands of my job. They gave me a choice but at the time it seemed as though there was noone else. I thought I would achieve recognition for undertaking it and I knew it would be good for my professional skills. Have I mentioned I was being a moron??
One day, I took a group of families on a library visit. I was 18 weeks pregnant and actually feeling really awesome. I decided to get down on the floor with some of the small children to play and read some stories. All was fine until I stood up, when I kind of felt this wrenching pain in my lower back. Oh crap. Plaster frozen smile on face. Farewell families. Head back to office. Collapse in weeping heap on desk only to get sent home by boss feeling sheepish and inadequate.
I recovered from that little incident and vowed to be more careful, however the daily grind of lifting my equipment and driving long distances was taking a toll. My midwife told me to cut down my hours. I did, to 0.9. That’s a half day off a week or one whole day off a fortnight. Go me!. Also, because I have a really good gauge of my own limits, we were renovating a house at the time. Think, gutting it completely, new kitchen, new bathroom (there hadn’t previously been an indoor bathroom so we had to build one) and me painting and crawling around on the floor prepping floors to be sanded. Moron. I went on like this for several weeks until, after a failed attempt at a morning walk with Beefcake the little aches and pains began to coalesce in my mind to something significant. I found a reference to pubic symphysis dysfunction in a book. I called my midwife, I was placed on a waiting list but knew I couldn’t last the 5 weeks it would take to see a public physio. I could no longer walk without excruciating pain in my groin and my sacrum.
The private physio laughed when I asked her if I should cut down my hours at work. My pubic symphysis and sacro-iliac joints had separated very badly, this is normal to some extent during pregnancy but not my extent. You should not be able to use your pelvis like Rolf Harris does a wobble board. She told me I should be on bed rest. For the rest of my pregnancy. I was 31 weeks pregnant and had planned to stop work at 36 weeks.
We all moved into our new home sans kitchen and bathroom. I had to front up to my boss two days later and tell her I was flaking out on my contract. Again, go me! I rested, in my house with no indoor bathroom, and waited for Pudding to arrive. I tried to do my physio stuff and just keep my pain under control. It got a little better once his head was engaged and I was able to walk for short periods, for example, around the supermarket! Yay!
The physio tried to talk me into a caesarean because she was worried that a vaginal birth might be too hard. The birth was fine but afterwards the pain didn’t magically go away. It gradually got better, up until the point where it just stayed the same. I would have good days and bad days. Many bad days in London, perhaps because of the cold and perhaps because of the multitudes of stairs, which are not so common in Australia and are the natural enemy of my wobble board pelvis.
I fell pregnant with Grub while we were in London and I exercised and tried to ensure it wouldn’t be as bad. It got pretty bad, only this time I refused (or more to the point couldn’t manage with a toddler) being bedridden and just wore my supports (elasticy strappy things) and committed to a mostly sedentary lifestyle. Yay, bring on the fat!
So here we are. I have had my ups and downs since Grub was born. I am currently having a down. Usually a bad pelvis episode of this magnitude is caused by something obvious. I fall over or I really overdo it. Ordinarily, I can rest for a day or so and be better. This time I’ve been steadily getting worse for over a week. I don’t really know why. My muscles have all waved their little white flags and I just have to try and find the position, which causes the least muscles to be in spasm at any, one time. My entire back, shoulders, neck, everything, has joined in now, it’s a fabulous party if you’re a spasm hungry muscle. I can’t sit up for more than a few seconds. I am lying here flat on my back, with a complicated arrangement of pillows under my bum and knees. I will have to see someone tomorrow I suppose but I have a dread fear of health professionals, and am wishing it will get better on it’s own.
So, my laptop is my sole entertainment, which is good in that I get to catch up on reading blogs, however I am not in the best frame of mind, not so good. Please ignore all strange, pain-induced-hysteria fueled commenting. I am a moron.