Argh! So much to say, i dont know really where to start...
Ohhh, im going with an explanation of the blog name and the (long) story behind it.
Other options suggested for the blog were
Hip to be Square
SPD and Me
Hip to be Square
SPD and Me
(Thanks Nickie at http://typecast2000.blogspot.com/ for the suggestions :D )
Sooooo, my pelvis. We aren't on good terms, i have to say. Currently i am on bed rest (and a hefty concoction of pain killers), as i have rather severe SPD (Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction, sometimes called Pelvic Girdle Pain).
The short explanation is that my pelvis now has the structural integrity of grannys knicker elastic.
For a longer, more precise description see http://www.pelvicinstability.org.uk/index.asp .
I wasn't always a cripple (im allowed to call myself one, in an attempt at humour), i used to be a pretty effective wife and mother. School run, a mile each way? No problem. Sweeping the floor? Already done it. Putting my pants on by myself? Ha! I laugh in the face of underpants!
All those daily tasks you do on autopilot, getting on with it, i just cant do anymore. I haven't been able to for 6 months.
It started 12 weeks into my last pregnancy. I noticed an odd feeling in my hips like they were loose in the sockets, which was followed by shooting pains down my thighs. I had suspicions it was SPD as id had similar (but milder) sensations at the end of pregnancy number 4, and the midwife and i had discussed the possibility of a pelvic issue but thankfully Lottie was born soon after.
I arranged referral to physio. The appointment wasn't a resounding success. I got the time wrong, we were late, this meant i only got seen for ten minutes and i never managed to get another appointment. Still, i listened carefully to what the physio had said and followed these instructions throughout the pregnancy - the correct way to get out of bed, the wearing of an exceptionally attractive support belt, not doing chores which involved swinging the hips (sweeping floor, pushing shopping trolley etc) and so on.
Despite my efforts the pain i was in got steadily worse and my ability to do, well, pretty much everything, got less and less. By the 36th week of my pregnancy it was all i could do to get out of bed, wash and get downstairs to the sofa. I was in constant pain and could only hobble short distances, standing only for a few minutes at a time. We were offered pain relief but after talking it through declined as the odds of it harming the baby were too high. To my mind if anyone was going to suffer it should be me (the Mum) not the baby.
I dont regret that decision at all but i think it may have given people a false perspective of just how much pain i was in. On the hyperbole and a half pain scale (http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/02/boyfriend-doesnt-have-ebola-probably.html ) i probably looked a three, but i felt about a six.
Forward on to 27th September (week 37 of pregnancy). The girls have woken early and seem to have misplaced their concept of volume control. So, being the lovely, giving, kind-hearted wife and mother (and cursed light sleeper) that i am, i decide i will take the girls downstairs, put the tv on and doze til its time for everyone to get up. Also, then Husband will totally owe me and i can have a nap in the afternoon.
So, i turn over (ouch), swing my feet down as i push my self up (urgh) and finally get upright (yay me!). Then i make the tragic mistake of trying to stand. As i slowly raise myself off the bed i hear a stomach-churning 'CRACK' come from the front of my pelvis, and all manner of pain is set free. I promptly collapse on the end of the bed, unable to move, and begin to sob (pain scale rating 7-8). Husband, in his sleep coma, reaches over and pats my head a little before resuming sleep. It takes several more minutes of me snotting on the duvet for him to realise this is possibly more than an attack of the hormones. This is the conversation which followed:
Husband - Are you all right?
Me - No!
H - Oh, well, what do you want me to do, call an ambulance?
Bless Husband, ive never seen him spring from bed (his favourite place in the whole world) so fast, and duly he called the Ambulance.
*In Husbands defence, i usually require being left alone if i feel upset, until i get a handle on myself, and genuinely have an aversion to making a fuss and being the centre of attention, so it wasn't *technically* spousal neglect to leave me crying, but only a sleep-loving mans attempt at appeasing the rotund mess of hormone vaguely resembling his wife.
Next instalment - getting to hospital, hospital and 'its a baybeeee'.