Unstable

As it turns out, despite my occasional self-pity parties and episodes of non-compliance I mean laziness that get in the way, there is a way I can help my bad back pain.  I got connected with a physical therapist, and subsequently a supportive back brace and strengthening exercises to do at home.  When I scheduled my first appointment, I was told that I would be seen on Tuesday at 1pm with Vaughn. 

Vaughn?  I pictured myself being sized up and stretched out by a big, muscle-y foreign dude in a tight black shirt.  I made sure to find my cutest outfit, and set out for my appointment. 

"Dawn will be right with you," the receptionist said.

Oh.  Dawn.  Right.

Dawn had me stand in different positions to see what was up with all of my pain. It turns out I'm pregnant.  That and I have injury to muscle and tendons in my hip.  "Whoah," she said.  "Very unstable," she said. 

Unstable.  She can say that again.  I woke up one morning not so very long ago and realized that we will be having a baby in a matter of weeks.  Sure, you could have said that 33 weeks ago as well, but 6 weeks seems a little more, well, impending.  My weekends are numbered, my chances to get things done in our house are numbered, my days as a whale are numbered.  I go between feeling super-excited to meet this kid and feeling absolutely and utterly unprepared, wanting to slam on the brakes until I can have newborn diapers and clean burp rags at the ready. 

I was out with my non-card-playing card club Moms group the other day when the conversation turned to questions of our pioneering peers who just had their second kids.  In what order did they put their kids in the carseats?  How do they manage grocery shopping?  Do they have a side-by-side stroller or a double one that is one in front of the other?  Do they use the front pack, and is it the $100 Baby Bjorn model? 

I began to feel uncomfortably warm and nauseated.  I hadn't even started to think about these things.  All of a sudden, visions of two more carseats, a new stroller, a decent frontpack, a sling, a diaper bag with no rips in it, another crib mattress, and the nursery which is in total shambles, housing Oliver's old crib in disassembled pieces jumbled up in my head like the shaky, advanced stages of a Jenga game.  I gracefully made my exit for the evening to prevent a full-fledged panic attack.

Back at another physical therapy appointment, I was given more exercises to do.  Dawn explained that we would be adding more challenge to the exercises I had been working on.  Um, isn't growing weekly into the size of a charter cruise ship kind of adding a challenge in itself?  It was hard enough to get up onto the therapy table and lay on my back.  And if laying down is a challenge, well, you know what, just let me take a nap already.

Michael incidentally started physical therapy this week as well for neck stiffness that tends to be the precursor for persistent and severe migraines. I told him about my sweat-sessions with Dawn.  He told me, "man, you really got the raw deal.  I just get to have massages."  Which is not something you want to tell an unstable woman.  That night, he vacuumed the whole house and did the dishes.