As bad as it could get

 

I had a memory to night that left  me feeling crushed.  Really crushed, like I’m being sat on and can’t breath.  Tears streamed down my eyes as I realize how limited I still am for this Christmas.   This memory, sparked by today’s reality left me pondering one thing.  Was it worse?

Christmas morning, 2 years ago, at my sister’s house in Utah.  Wearing huge  Jammies to cover my 8 month preggers belly. 

It was a really fun Christmas.  Most of the time, 7 of my 9 siblings, and their families were packed into J’s house.  It was the first (and last) time for years that all 5 sisters were together.  My mom is the “girl” in black.

I was already ill from the pregnancy.  By this point, I could stand NO fat, there are little protein sources with no fat.   I ate every hour to stay nourished, sometime a gallon of Jell-O a week.  I even made pig and turkey cut outs of Jell-O to feel a part of the big Christmas eve dinner. 

I was already having bad pain, like I was hit between the legs with a huge metal baseball bat.  My back ached, and not the normal pregnancy ache.  It was painful to get around, and exploded if I didn’t have an afternoon siesta with my legs raised.

Now with all that extra info, let me set the stage for this memory:

Every evening the pain would spike.  Family games would help keep my mind off it.   Sometimes board games, sometimes the coveted Wii.   Everyone was sweet and move next to the couch. My couch for those 2 weeks.  I would take up an entire side, usually with 3 supportive pillows.  I was so miserable, even with the joy of this holiday.  We rarely get together for holidays like this. 

Around 10:30, people would head off to bed.  Most nights I stayed on the couch, debating.   Do I take 1 vicodin or 2? 

As I lay on the couch, sometimes joined by my husband playing Wii, I anxiously waiting for the smell. I actually have a smell, and certain tickle  in my nose like I had sniffed powdered sugar while baking.  When the smell hit, I knew that the pain would be gone enough in 15 minutes.  I had to hurry to bed then, to fall asleep before it peaked. 

In those minutes that seemed like hours, I had too much time to think.  I still can remember it all vividly, as I repeatedly chanted my hopeful mantra,

“I will be so much better

by next Christmas,

this is the worst it will be”

 

 

It wasn’t.  and…  I wasn’t.