Baby Fixed, Mama's Broken

Mia is much better after her bout with a stomach bug. She stopped vomiting and acting list listless. While ill she was just so clingy and cuddly. I'll post a pick of her on Pua Pua's lap soon.

One way in which my Meemster has not recovered is her appetite. She mainly wants to nurse and eat Cheerios. Darn those Cheerios. I know they pack large amount of nutrition in the tiny O, but I need to get more proteins and fats in my little girl. She has probably lost a little more than half a pound and she looks so slight now. The terrible thing about a heavily breastmilk diet is the poop. For a big girl like Mia to mostly eat BM is not ideal. She poops more frequently since BM passes through the system faster and she is blowing out the messy yellow curdles at least a couple of times a day. That leads us to Mama's broken shoulder.

My left shoulder has bothered me intermittently since 2002, but NEVER like this. Goes back to when I used to lug around training material and pull on one of those luggage carriers with a box full of teacher's manuals and hand-outs. In the past I could really restrict use of the arm, but now I can't due to Mia's unpredictability and the need to use both arms to handle her. Over the last couple of days a series of unfortunate events culminated in my injury.

Since having Mia it has bothered me here and there, but it always healed in a few days. Looking back, I think I do live with a certain amount of discomfort that I have just grown accustomed to as part of daily life. Each time I put Mia into and carry her out of the Britax, the shoulder is bothered, but it just was part of the fabric of my day. But I guess in the last few days, the motion of carrying her on my left hip and overextending my shoulder, putting her into and getting her out of her car seat, Kona pulling on the leash when she sees a bird or squirrel, lifting Mia into and out of the crib--blah blah blah--just did Mama in. Oh and also loading my mom's small suitcase into the SUV when she left on Wednesday.

Last night I checked on Mia around 2 AM. I was up finishing a project and decided to see how she was doing. I found her in one of her usual predicaments. Three limbs were dangling outside the crib as she slept on her side. Took some pictures and smelled that nasty aforementioned breastmilk poop. Put the camera down and leaned down to grab her. I saw STARS like in the cartoons when some unfortunate creature got smacked on the head with a cast iron pan. I picked her up and it killed me. Normally my tolerance for pain is extremely high. I've walked around for three days with a ruptured cyst before admitting that something must be wrong.

I had the wherewithal to change her and nurse her back to sleep last night. In the morning I was not better off. With one arm, I unload the dishwasher, clean up the kitchen because we have a counter guy coming to give a quote. I take a shower with one arm and Mia sitting in her booster in the door of the bathroom eating Cheerios. I feel, this is doable. I am fine. Denial.

After the counter dude left, I found out that while using one arm to care of Mia could be doable only if she were not to big and unpredictable with her movements. The Meemster did me in when she had a blowout and refused to remain still on the floor while I changed her. Why would she? She's an active ten month old and wow, to be put on her back on the floor is sheer torture.

Seeing that the situation was going to deteriorate if I didn't get her on the changing table, I lifted her up and placed her on the table. It just killed my shoulder. Unzipped her sleep sack and saw that the poop had seeped into her footed sleeper. All the while my shoulder is in lip-biting pain as I try to keep her from turning over and touching the poop (which she did) that had reached the tummy area of the sleeper. Finally after nearly a dozen wipes, the situation is under control. I remove the dirty clothes trying so hard not to get Mia covered in poop. Chuck it all to the ground because I had no other option. Kona came sniffing. Shooed her away, then turned my attention to dressing my wiggly girl. Lifting my arm to put her onesie one and maneuver her arms into the arm holes caused more lip-biting tear producing pain. Finally I am done and feel as if I just can't go on. I call Papa who had a presentation to give earlier in the morning. Thankfully he was done around 9 AM. With a shaky voice and throbbing shoulder I tell him that I cannot make it through the day with Mia and go to the work.

We went to work where I thought Papa would just watch Mia for me while I worked and had a meeting, but after asking me to do some range of motion tests, Papa thought I probably needed to get seen by an orthopedic doctor right away. Luckily we got an appointment. Left work to go to the doctor. All this time I am thinking this will get better like it always does. Denial. Like when I thought Mia just gagged when she was vomiting. Like when I went three days without getting medical attention for severe abdominal pain (well in that case Papa poo-poo'ed my symptoms and told me to take Pepto). Docs say I need X-rays and an MRI. There goes by day and chances of returning to work. By the way, I pride myself in perfect attendance. I always had perfect attendance growing up until I got really sick in the 5th grade. I probably have taken less than a handful of sick-days in my working life. Pathology, ding ding ding, red flags.

Anyway, this whole time, I see all the things I am going to miss out on with Miss Mia flash before me and I get so MAD and CRANKY. I could barely hold her with my right arm alone due to the level of activity she engages in and the strength she has. I can't get her nursed on my left side without help. UGH, I like to do things my way and by myself. Yes, more pathology. My self-reliance is the albatross around my neck in my walk with God.

I start to ask, "WHY ME?" Whine whine whine.
Me: Why when I am on the cusp of retirement (3/31, hurray) does this happen to me? Why does this happen to me when Pua Pua just left after 3.5 weeks with us? Why does this happen to me at 33 when I have a baby, couldn't God wait 10 more years when I don't have to lug a soon to be toddler around?
God: Remember to consider it pure joy when you face trials.
Me: Shut up!
God: This is the cross you must bear for now.
Me: SHUT UP!
God: You have to learn to let Mia go a little and now be all over her all day long.
Me: THAT'S A LOW BLOW, SHUT UP NOW! You know she's my precious thing and a gift from YOU after not being able to have a baby, I have every right to love her up.
God: Time to ask for help. I am, the I am and I am here. Call your mother. She wants to come back to see Mia anyway. Your grandfather will be okay.

Now how does one keep talking back to God?

On Monday, I'll find it if I have bursitis, tendinitis, or a rotator cuff tear. Best case--please God--is bursitis. I asked friends for help to watch Mia and called my mom who chided me for being stubborn. She will come on Monday night. In the meantime, Auntie Sarah will spend the night and help on Sunday while Papa takes a trip. I might have to give up my contract work for the time being. I'll see. I spend 3-4 hours on it a night after I vege in front of the telly for a couple of hours.

I was able to write this on 800 MG of Advil, with one hand (okay I used the shoulder here and there for efficiency) and a cortisone shot.

Thanks for your prayers friends and family!