Monday started off well. I went for a walk with the kids, had a look at some flowers, nipped in Asda and bought far too many 'bargains' that I probably don't need. Earlier in the week I had been a bit ill but was feeling on the mend, so it was nice to be out with the boys.
Later that day my mum had to phone an ambulance for me, I won't go into too much detail all you need to know is I was in extreme pain and I clearly wasn't on the mend. A few years ago my main feeling at this point would of been fear that I was having to go in an ambulance and that there was something wrong with me, however now I have children my feelings have changed. While I lay on the sofa writhing in pain, sweating and crying my only feeling was guilt. Guilt, that my beautiful Mr S and Mr B were having to see their mummy like this, that they were going to see paramedics take their mummy away. Mr S is old enough to understand that something is wrong and that mama is being taken away in a chair, but not old enough to explain why.
Once I was in a&e waiting for results and letting my pain relief take hold I had a lot of time to think. It's amazing how once you have produced little people your thought process changes completely. Pre babies I would have been frightened that I was all alone in the hospital as there was no one to come with me and that there was talk of a very scary lumbar puncture, post babies I was wracked with worry that I hadn't had time to prepare a nappy bag for my mum due to the sudden onset of pain. While the doctor was telling me what they were going to poke and prod next, I was honestly lay there thinking if my mum would be able to find wipes and dummy's.
Obviously all my worries were unnecessary as super gran to the rescue, handled both of them like a pro, wipes or no wipes. No matter how many times she messages me to tell me the kids are fine and sends pics of them eating and playing I still worry. Worry that my mum shouldn't have to be looking after 2 under 2 for such a long period of time, (hubby is working and they have kept me in), to the point that I find myself bargaining with the nurse for an early release, (I'm aware I'm not in prison, however with barred windows that don't open and a woman who swears more than me in the next bed, I may as well be). So many nurses, doctors and everyone else in uniform asked if I had children, to which my answer was clearly, "yes I have two under two", every healthcare professional gave me the same answer, "well, I can see why your here putting up with that then". No offence intended but I can see why those people went into healthcare and not stand up!
In fact, I told hubby to stay at home with the kids instead of visiting me, that was partly because I wanted my mum too have a break from my monkeys and partly because when he does visit he is a pain in the butt. He literally becomes a child, trying to pull a Moonie at me before the doc comes back in, making glasses out of pill cups. I asked him why he acts this way as he was the same when I was in labour. “I’m trying to distract you from feeling ill”, trust me hubby seeing your butt crack isn’t helping me feel un-ill.
Luckily I'm home now and everything is slowly getting back to normal, although I feel like I've gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. The boys are none the wiser to my pain, in their eyes I have just been to the shop. In the past I probably would have spent the next few days in bed feeling sorry for myself and enjoying the pain relief. Times have changed. I am having to grit my teeth and smile through the pain while entertaining my boys, I have no other choice, but I wouldn't have it any other way, (well maybe hubby here but the penny's won't earn themselves). In fact, the nurse gave me some sick bowels for my journey home, which thankfully I didn't need to make use of, so that was our morning sorted, a nice sit down activity where mama bear could semi rest, sick bowel hats.