The Broken Leg, Continued...

To continue on our journey of, 'Really? Just, really?' There was a couple of weeks where Mr. Man (ok, I'll start calling him by his actual name, Dan) was shuttled back and forth between his mom's house and our house. This was because he really couldn't be left alone and I had to go to work. He couldn't do anything on his own. He needed someone there to get him food, water, help him to the bathroom, and bathing? Oof, that was an ordeal. Everything was a process. Going to bed at night was a process - pillows had to be propped and adjusted and the poor man couldn't even roll over without causing an earthquake. I should point out that Dan is a large man - 6'4" and not a bean-pole. I am almost exactly half his size. 5'6" and rather petitely framed. It took a good year for his leg to fully heal and it still aches on occasion. But those first few months after his surgery were quite hairy - did I mention I was newly pregnant? Yeah. In between shuttling, propping, and waiting hand and foot on gimpy, I was trying not to fall asleep in my dinner or throw up on my dinner or eat all the food in the house or cry because that car commercial was so poignant. Oh yes, one of the joys of being flooded with pregnancy hormones means that just about anything can make you sob giant tears or go into fits of hysteria. And I didn't realize it until recently, but I really wanted sympathy in those first few months. I wanted someone to give me a hug and say "Oh, honey, I'm sorry you feel like the ass end of a toilet." But everyone's sympathy was focused on Dan. And I suppose rightly so, he did break his leg after all. I'm sure my family would have been more sympathetic but because my parents were scheduled to come up for a visit, we had decided to wait and tell them in person and I couldn't tell anybody else in my family until I told my parents. Hence, no one felt for me.
So to sum up, my first trimester, sucked.

In The Beginning, There Was A Broken Leg

The birth of my daughter has been such a profound experience for me that I have found myself wanting to share it with as many people as will listen. I know this isn't a unique feeling. Many women who've gone through pregnancy and childbirth have felt the same thing and done the same thing I am now doing - writing it down to share with the world. Truly this is a well versed topic, just search for "pregnancy" or "chidlbirth" online and there will be an endless stream of reading material for you to engorge yourself with. So now you're thinking, 'WTF lady?! Why do we need one more if its such a well covered topic?' Because, if there's one thing I've learned it's that, while every experience is unique, many of us share very similar experiences and knowing that someone else has gone through the same thing you are can turn a cry-worthy experience into a laugh-worthy one. And because I want to, so there.

I'd like to start way back before she was actually born, to the very beginning. No I'm not going to talk about her conception, perve. However I will talk about my first trimester. Everything I ever read (and believe me I read a LOT while I was pregnant) and heard from other parents is that the first few months can be pretty tough. Your body is suddenly flooded with an immense amount of hormones that are cooking and creating that tiny life. All these new hormones can do strange things to a woman.*(not all women are the same, some women will experience none of these things) For example: for 2 months, I was simultaneously hungry, nauseous and narcoleptic - ok maybe not narcoleptic but it sure did feel that way sometimes. I literally would take a 10 minute nap in the middle of meals. Exhausted does not even begin to describe how tired and lethargic I felt, 24 hours a day. I would drive to work and have to take a nap in my car before I could go up to the office and even had to take a mid-day nap in my car on occasion. And I can't even begin to describe how maddening it can be to feel ravenously hungry while your stomach is turning inside out. Seriously - do you eat or do you throw up or both?! This is the first time you really start depending on your partner to pick up your slack. I should note, I love my husband very much. He is kind and warm and always willing to take over where I leave off when needed as well as taking on additional chores when I'm down and out. Except when I got pregnant.
Now, before you start cursing and swearing Mr. so-and-so for being so heartless to his newly pregnant wife, calling him a lazy bastard and various other profane names that I'm almost positive I've called him before, I should tell you he broke his leg the same week I found out I was pregnant. And broke it good he did. Not just a simple set and cast. No no. In addition to the midnight run to the emergency room by ambulance(yeah, midnight)there was surgery. 'Why an ambulanc?' you ask? Well, because at the time we lived in a 200 year old, 2 story house. The bedrooms and bathroom were upstairs - he broke his leg in the bathroom and those stairs were not only steep but narrow. If you've ever been in an old house, you know. I swear they're like a 90 degree incline, you needed ropes and safety gear just to climb them. And oh, if you want to get your neighbor's attention, call 911 in the middle of the night and tell them your husband broke his leg on the second floor and you can't get him out of the house. There will not only be an ambulance with a couple of EMTs, but several EMTs, their supervisor, a fire truck and a police officer - you know, just in case he plans on robbing the ambulance and making his mad getaway on the gurney.