Rejoice with me now…1, 2, 3 - REJOICE!
The good news is that I have an appointment for my anaesthetic injection into the symphysis pubis “joint” - the slightly bad news is that it isn’t until May 23rd.
However, I’m focusing more on the fact that the appointment exists and fills me with the delightful taste of a hope that things may start to get better for myself and my little family, than the fact that the appointment is…oh, almost 9 weeks away.
So, at 3:15pm on Friday 23rd May, you’ll know that I’ll be in the hospital hoping for the answer to my prayers!
In other, wonderful, news - baby Henry can now say “Dada”, “Dad” and “Hiya!!”. Sometimes, in special fits of enthusiasm, we even get treated to “Hiya Dada!”, which is very sweet, especially with his infectious baby grin. His grin, by the way, will be changing soon as he has cut his first tooth (bottom centre, right) and when it is fully pushed out he’ll start looking truly like our little boy, rather than our chubby, smiling, baby.
Also, he’s taken it upon himself to get on his hands and knees in the crawling position, he rocks front to back but doesn’t seem to realise that if he just moved his limbs he’d be able to catapult across the room with more speed and accuracy than his current mode of slightly haphazard rolling and pivoting. I often wonder if he gets dizzy… maybe, if so, that would go some way to explaining the increasingly frequent giggling/bouncing fits he gets! I can’t say that I don’t love them, though, so I hope that they persist.
On Saturday, Henry saw his first few flakes of snow through our windows. Although he didn’t appear as impressed as I was, I think that before too long snow will be a source of amusement and joy to him.
What about me? The pain is still bad. I still feel more than slightly incarcerated in our upstairs flat (lovely and large though it is) and so have been taking solace in sewing. It’s a secret love of mine, needlework, from embroidery to quilting, blackwork to crewel; I find myself transported into an older and, arguably, simpler age.
My wonderful man cannot be faulted. How he manages to watch me in this state, knowing he can’t take the hurt away, I do not know. I see that it upsets him when I wince and limp, when I have to hold onto door frames for support until I manage to make myself more stable. Were the situation reversed, I don’t know if I’d be able to cope anywhere near as well as he does. Henry and I are lucky to have him in our lives.
