Car Fail

I woke up in the middle of the night with a really intense pain in my abdomen. I tried to roll on to my belly on top of a pillow and it was excruciating to my back issue. Once I finally got comfy I was knocked out. I woke up once briefly heard Mike and Isaac talking and turned off my alarm. I didn't wake up again until 8:30 when Mike got back from dropping off Riley. Whoa, he did a morning by himself and I didn't wake up. So, I got out of bed gingerly. My abdominal pain was gone and if I moved carefully my back wasn't horrible. I got dressed and headed out the door to the hair appointment I made before the pain started.

I got a few minutes down the road and was in the left lane of a busy intersection when my engine stopped. No stutter or anything just silence. I took a deep breath, thanked God for the red light and tried to start my car. No dice. I put on my flashers and prayed. I tried again while dialing Mike. He knew what it was and how to fix it, but I was sitting in the left lane of a busy intersection and there was no way to get out and tinker and live. So I sat. People honked and screamed. People cursed me and with every turn of the light I got more anxious. It was the temperature of the sun in that car within seconds without the air or ability to crack a window.

I'm glad Riley wasn't with me. I'm glad I wasn't on the highway. I'm glad I didn't need to pee, but this sucked! What is with people anyway? Oh! This isn't a parking spot? Well good thing you honked and called me a stupid B*&%$% or I NEVER would have figured it out. Clearly, I've parked my car here to annoy you for my own enjoyment. Obviously, I'm perfectly capable of getting off the road, but simply prefer to live dangerously. Come on! Shake your head in sympathy and go around. After what felt like 4,000 cycles of the light some nice men helped me. They pushed my car to a gas station. Safely in the driveway of the gas station I let out a sigh of relief and a few tears. I called the salon to tell them I'd be late too.

Then cursing the pain in my shoulder blades like Captain Dan from Forrest Gump confronting the hurricane I disembarked the large paper weight. I limped along the side of the car slamming one crutch into the ground with more force than necessary. Then I opened the hood and the pain tore through me like a forest fire. Knowing for certain the mystery pain could in fact get worse I gritted my teeth and attempted once more to prop it open. Once I had the loose battery contact in my sights I slammed my crutch down on it with all the authority of Thor's hammer. Stupid mechanics at the stupid dealership had filed the stupid thing too short cleaning it once. Once I had banged out some rage on that sucker I limped back around towards my seat.

It was at that precise moment that Mike pulled up. That jerk and his timing I tell ya. Shaking with back spasms and dripping with sweat I yelled "I just banged on it." Without taking in the scene he asked, "Does it work." I had the keys in my hand and was just about to pull myself into position. Obviously, I'd tested it, turned it off and then climbed out of the car?!? Anyway, it started just fine.

There was a nice old man approaching my car just then with a sincere look of concern. God only knows how much he witnessed, but I can imagine seeing the gimp wincing in pain as she limped around her silent car taking two tries to get the hood open and then taking her frustration (albeit painfully) out on the engine. I shut the door and drove off before he ever got a chance to speak.

I didn't look back, but I think Mike acknowledged him as he climbed into his car. Sorry, nice man. You're a descent human being and I'm grateful. I am truly grateful for the folks who pushed me through the intersection to safety. I am grateful to Mike for dropping everything at work to came save me, despite his timing. It was a baaaaad few minutes. I lived. I was only a slightly late to my appointment (although no longer shower fresh). My car ran fine the rest of the day.

Dance Class Derailed

Riley's been going to dance class since the summer. It's a small class of two year olds and she loves it! It's once a week on Tuesday and she usually rides over with her buddy Boo. I'd been pre-surgical and then post-op for a long stretch of the time she's been going. So Boo's Mommy had been driving her and dropping her home afterward. I have awesome friends.

Almost as soon as I was able and up to driving again I started having therapy on Tuesdays. Intense tiring therapy. So, I became dependent on the arrangement even though it was never meant to be permanent. The first week they missed class was because they were both very ill. Then a few weeks later Riley and Boo circulated a memo about behaving so badly neither mother would permit them to go.

Last week Riley was on her best behavior all day. I dropped her at Boo's for dance class. Then I got a phone call that Boo's Mommy's keys were locked in the car. Oh, no! I was tired and in pain. I knew I was barely up for driving let alone taking two 2yrs anywhere by myself. Mike gets off work the same time her class starts so he was no help. I so wanted to be a hero, but my body is broken and my bones were tired. I sent Mike to fetch her when he was done working and she was a terrific sport about it. Her consolation prize was a trip to the grocery store, poor kid.

I felt horrible guilt about not once taking the girls. I was mad that I never do my therapy and rest. I always wreck myself completely. Overachiever plus adrenaline equals non functional Mommy. I couldn't even get my own kid to her dance class when she was so well behaved all day. Failure. Riley loves dance class so much and I love that it makes her so happy. I was in ballet when I was around her age, but it didn't last. I bet Riley will still be in years from now.

Today after I picked Riley up from Grandmas's after my therapy appointment she said, "I'm very concerned about dance class." I couldn't make this up! Those were her exact words. I promised her no matter what Mommy would get her there today. She said she was "(s)till concerned about dance class". I reassured her as best I could after missing two weeks in a row.

I took precautions and napped after we got home while Riley was sleeping. I knew I'd be able to take her if I needed to and also if I was prepared to it wasn't likely I'd need to. Sure enough we got our ballerinas to class on time. They did a great job tonight and earned lollipops from their teacher.

So you see, broken failed ballerinas with metal in their hips can still sire dancers. Isn't she adorable in her tutus?

Monday You Can Fall Apart

I have survived 13 orthopedic surgeries before I turned 18. Moving 2,000 miles from home with no support system to college. Getting hit by a bus as a pedestrian my senior year. Moving to NYC with no job or place to live after graduation. Moving back home the following year. Moving to LA. Even when the person I loved left me in LA by myself to move back into his parents house after living off of my student loan for 4months. The death of my beloved childhood pet that spring. Emergency surgery to remove a tumor from my uterus. A post-op infection. Moving back home (which I swore I'd never do). Being laid off. Getting pregnant. Almost 7mo of bed rest. A c-section and a baby in the NICU. A spinal fusion surgery. A hip surgery. Being unemployed for 2yrs because of all the medical issues.

I have made it through all of these things intact. I don't mean I never got sad or even suffered some depression on the contrary it was a recurring theme. I would face something tough, battle through it, get sad, get over it and repeat. That's how it always worked. That as far as I'm concerned is how life's supposed to work.

I had these reasonable and brief bouts of depression starting in adolescence. I never talked about it. I honestly can't believe I'm talking about it now. I didn't need anyone to know I was sad because I didn't need any help to stop being sad. It was something that had to run its course like a cold.

Pain and depression feed off of one another. The more it hurts the sadder you are and the sadder you are the more it hurts. Add to that pure primal fear and you have my current state of existence. I remember when I was single and had 3 jobs and I never had days off. After 28 consecutive days of working 8-12hrs I got horribly sick. Not just the sniffles because I would have pounded Emergen-C and water and kept going, but really sick. I think I was sent home from work after almost passing out. Anyway, the point is that I thought, “well I guess that's the number of days you can work without a break before your immune system objects loudly”. That's exactly what happened this time.

I endured all these things and kept going with very little break and then my brain broke instead of my immune system. At first just like the overworked immune system I thought I was fine and got “sent home from work”. After that I had to face up to actually being “sick”, but was completely convinced it would resolve itself quickly. Wrong on both counts.

I had a very difficult time with idea of the C-section because I'd had enough surgery to last a lifetime, but I consoled myself by thinking it would be the last. Wrong. I felt terrible having to back to the Orthopedic after Riley was born, but something had to be done. Apparently that something was major surgery. I pulled through having metal rods put in my back, breastfeeding the whole time, and moved on. Of course moving on meant hip surgery to remove old hardware and maybe replace my hip. I really couldn't have been more wrong about the whole "last surgery" thing. I survived with my own hip and a hope to make it "at least until the end of the year" before my hip would be replaced. Wrong again.

Are you noticing a pattern here? Apparently, that realization was my "28th consecutive day." The dam broke and I was drowning. It's not a simple problem. I can not simply "get through it" this time. If I go to the doctor tomorrow and he confirms what I know is true the amount of procedures and recovery required is daunting. Beyond that it's not fixing a flat tire. There's no guarantee more surgery with "fix" things and even if things improve there's no way to know how long they'll be that way. After all the hardware removal that was supposed to buy me a year with my own hip didn't quite make it to 6mo.

I've had a "breakdown" here and there. I've been mired down by hopelessness, but never like this. I blamed hormones. I blamed fatigue. I blamed the pain. I blamed Mike. In the end those things all played their part, but as my Ortho is always quick to point out it doesn't matter what's causing it once the problem is solved. So how do I solve it?

Step one: Admit you have a problem. Ok, done. Now what? I overcame the feeling that everyone will judge me harshly and that they're right to do so because being depressed enough to need help means I'm a huge failure. I'm not a wimp who couldn't hack it. I buckled under tremendous strain it's not the same as giving up. I worked through the fear of someone accusing me of being an unfit parent. Obviously my kids are well taken care of. If anything they save me from wallowing too much during daylight hours. I'm just worried about what happens now. Generally I'm good at taking personal responsibility, but terrible at failure (which is what severe depression feels like to me).

I decided after several attempts to cheer myself up that ended in teary disasters to call my doctor about this. However, my schedule is overwhelmed with scary medical issues so after the first two are in hand I've promised myself and Mike I would call.

Here's hoping writing about it helps me (and someone out there reading it) feel less alone. Deep breath. Sometimes you can't kick a virus without antibiotics. Sometimes you can't kick depression without a professional. Makes sense.

Show your support for me and moms everywhere struggling with depression by commenting on this post anonymously. Depression is a lonely place. Thank you so much.