Can I get a FREAKIN BONE HERE?!?

Ok, seriously, I'm not normally a complainer. I usually take things in stride very well. And most people would say I'm downright cheery. When I was working, people would ask me all the time, "Are you ever NOT happy?"

To which I reply: YES!

Right now I am NOT happy!

I mean, let's put it all in context, shall we? I have a beautiful daughter, a loving husband, a warm home, two cars that run, a kitchen full of food, the gospel, a family that loves me... So of course, in the grand scheme of things, I'm actually very happy.

But I also have this body that's in constant pain and a baby that I'm starting to suspect is part vampire. You know, Renessme-style.

Several of you have heard a version of the "Shelley is hurt story", so I thought I'd set the record straight. No, I did not fall down the stairs. No, Shaelyn did not fall down the stairs. I have no broken bones or torn ligaments or anything like that. But I am on limited bed rest until 1) I have the baby, or 2) I get to the point where I can move without significant pain again.

Here's what happened. For the last three months I've been having decent pain in my pelvic area. My hips (which is normal and annoying, but easier to deal with), and my pubic bone (which is awful and the main source of my "walking really hurts today" pain). As a result, I haven't been doing much physical activity. And I feel awful for it. Really out of shape. And I've been wondering, "If I maybe did a little more, would it actually alleviate the pain?" Sad to say, I got my answer.

Wednesday morning I was unloading the dishwasher while Shaelyn played downstairs. And then I heard what every mother dreads. A loud "BLAM!" followed by crazy screaming. So I did what any now-adrenaline-charged mother would do. I went running up the stairs, two at a time, heart racing, and found Shaelyn lying flat on her back in my room (still not sure what she fell off of - my sewing desk or one of the chairs...) holding her arm all weird. I immediately scoop her up, and back up to the bed to begin assessing the damage. She calmed down quickly and I was able to do a thorough Mommy-check, assuring myself there was no blood or broken bones. But Shaelyn did want one thing: "Paci! Paci!" The closest paci was in her room. So I get up to head in there.

And realize that I can't move. There is an excruciating jolt of pain starting at my pubic bone and running down my leg. My body can't hold up my weight, so I fall down. And I begin to wonder what I'm going to do. I somehow manage to drag myself into Shaelyn's room to get her pacifier for her, and collapse on her bed, unable to move again. Luckily, I had been on the phone with Michael when I was unloading the dishwasher, so he's been hearing this whole thing play out over the phone as it's happening. Once Shaelyn gets her paci, she's good to go. I think she was a little concerned that Mommy was piled up in a heap on her bed crying her eyes out from the pain, but I think that concern only lasted for a short while. Soon, she was off doing what every toddler who's mom is laid out would do: whatever she wanted. As I'm crying to Michael and trying to figure out what to do next, all I could do was start to laugh as I hear Shaelyn flush the toilet over and over. 10 times...15 times...20 times... having the time of her life.

Ever since I've been having this pain, my doctor has told me there is nothing you can do for it. The pubic bone is a bone (duh!), so anti-inflammatory medicine doesn't help, stretching doesn't help, and any other conventional pain relieving tactic won't do much good either. He has told me that when the pain gets to be too much, to take it easy, and that he's had patients wheelchair-bound over pubic bone pain before. Lovely. So I decide the best thing I can do in this situation is make it downstairs to get myself some Tylenol and an ice pack. Plus that way I'm right by the front door if I need someone to come over and help me.

And I didn't move for the rest of the day. Shaelyn did not take her nap and threw an earth-shattering conniption fit every time she asked me to hold her and I told her I couldn't. I had a girlfriend come over with her girls that afternoon to help me out and keep Shaelyn occupied so she didn't burn the house down, and Michael cancelled all his Wednesday night church meetings/basketball plans to stay home and take care of Shaelyn while I laid immobilized on the couch. And the doctor's directives were just what I thought they'd be: stay in bed and when the baby comes, this pain will end.

Thursday morning the pain was a little better. I could at least get up and walk around (like an old lady) and go up and down the stairs. But I still had to limit myself and Shaelyn was furious that I couldn't do all the things for her that I normally do. Another girlfriend came over with her two little girls and got to witness the height of Shaelyn's anger/frustration-induced tantrums. It was a sight to see! But luckily she eventually calmed down and had a good time with her friend, and even took a nap in the afternoon!

And hooray for my two friends who came over, changed Shaelyn's diapers, picked up all the food and toys she had thrown around in her rage, and put up with my devil cat. You guys are lifesavers!

So Thursday night (tonight, since I still haven't gone to bed) we went to Sam's Club to pick up a few things and have a cheap family dinner in the "cafe." I got a Jazzy power chair so I wouldn't have to walk through the store (and I'm so glad that Andrew can relate to this... because I felt like an idiot). We were sitting and eating our yummy $4 family dinner when suddenly my face turns bright red as I feel a wave of heat rushing through my body. I feel a jarring, electric pain run through the right side of my abdomen that feels like it's setting me on fire. And suddenly I feel like I'm going to be sick, RIGHT NOW! I start having crazy contractions one right on top of the other and tell Michael we need to get home immediately. I'm in tears and I'm scared and in a lot of pain, and I'm worried what effect this will have on Shaelyn. Luckily, she's in the back seat singing and laughing.

We get home and I do get sick. Lovely. And the burning in my abdomen is still there, but the blinding pain is gone and the contractions have slowed. I told Michael I didn't think I was in labor, because there was no rhyme or reason to the pain or the contractions. But he calls my doctor just in case. My doctor agrees with me, but wants me to go to the hospital to make sure everything's ok. So we get Shaelyn in her jammies, get our bags that have luckily been packed for a while now, and get Shaelyn over to her "second Mommy's" house. I've been worried this whole time about leaving her with a friend and not my mom, because I didn't want her to be scared or stressed. She couldn't have been more excited. She thought she was going to a sleep over. She was laughing and waving to us when we left, which was a huge burden-lifter for me.

We got to the hospital and they hook me up to a non-stress test to make sure the baby's ok through all this and to monitor my contractions. The nurse is pretty impressed with the amount/level of my contractions, and so decides to check my dilation. "Where were you at your last doctor's appointment?" she asks. "A 3." She then proceeds to check, making me feel like having a c-section performed without an epidural could not possibly be worse than this, and tells me "Whoever said you were a 3 was being generous. I would say you're still a 2." I think it's this lady's job to make pregnant women cry.

They keep me on the monitor for an hour and half to check my progress, and finally discharge me, telling me that I'm not progressing enough for me to be admitted. And ever since then, I've been having contractions every 5 minutes (yes, for the last 2 1/2 hours...). If I had to rate them on a scale from 1-10 in pain (10 being the worst pain), I would say they are a 3. Enough to catch my breath, but not enough to make me cry, or to let me be admitted to have a baby! However, as I've been typing this, the last few have been a 4 in intensity.

The most frustrating part was the fact that I was there. My bags were packed. Shaelyn had a happy send-off. She was safe and would be well taken care of. And I wasn't worried about her. And with me now being bed-ridden, all my fears of having a newborn and a toddler were suddenly muted. Because it can't be any worse than our current situation with Shaelyn never getting the help from me that she needs and her having full run of the house with her craziness. I was so ready to just get some drugs in me to get this party started and let's just have this baby already. The nurse that discharged me said, "I'll be here all night and I wouldn't be surprised if I saw you again before I get off my shift." But I've heard that too many times. My doctor thought I'd have this baby weeks ago. So I'm not hoping for anything. Except to be able to sleep through this pain.

But I still have my hospital bracelet on. I think I'll leave it on tonight. Maybe that will tell my body to get with the program, that I'm supposed to be in a hospital bed having a baby right now. You know, psyche it out. Because seriously, tomorrow is just another day of me sitting propped up on the couch, getting up only when necessary, while Shaelyn runs around and cries that I can't pick her up. And I'm not sure how many more of those days I can handle.

But like I said, warm house, 2 cars, food in our kitchen, etc, etc, etc. Keep it in perspective, right? And of course, Rachelle will be totally worth it.