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.
Good day to you x
