So instead of long walks, aquanatal classes, swimming or yoga - even instead of gardening, I sit. And sit. And sit some more. My pain level is so directly related to daily activity that I know punishment is just around the corner. So I try to keep physical activity to a minimum, which isn't always possible, and sometimes I'm simply not prepared to sacrifice every fun activity to this relentless pain.
So today, although I was already sore upon waking from making this nice set of drawers for my crafty stuff which is currently piling up behind the dining room door (made from a very cheap and ugly IKEA unit;
we went to the local farmers market and moved on, via a swing park, to Bungo in the Back Lanes, a fabulous community backlane festival for the whole family, where residents let people into their back yards, sell second hand stuff, crafts, home baking and much more. It's a truly successful initiative, totally community run and simply a great day out. And great it was - such a perfect day for it, lovely sunshine but not too hot, lots of people but not too busy, and I love the way I always run into people for a wee chat. The only draw back was that they didn't get licence to sell alcohol this year, because it was getting too busy and successful and "security" wasn't high enough (as if anyone in Strathbungo was out to steal booze, come on, get serious you spoilsports).
Now I'm paying for the afternoon stroll and probably tomorrow too.
But that's find, I knew what I was doing. What's not so fine is the frustration of wanting to enjoy this summer, my girl before she has to share me, this pregnancy, the magic of it all, of growing a person, and all I can do is moan and wobble. Blooming? Me arse. I feel like snapping at everyone who tells me that I'm looking well (if you read this, please remember next time you see me and just don't) because I know I look horrible, can you not see those massive feet, my hobble walk, my wrinkles of pain inscribed on my face? My undone toenails because already I can't reach? My short temper with Cubling because she takes advantage and tests her boundaries at every opportunity knowing that she's faster than me? The dependency on my beloved, who really does all he can but can't take away the feeling of inadequacy that is slowly but surely taking over?
Above all, the prospect of this pain getting worse (as if it wasn't bad already) in the weeks to come is doing my head in. I had a different form of SPD last time. I know it gets worse and I got it much earlier this time. How on earth can I give birth like this?
And then I hear from other friends who are struggling for very different reasons and how everyone has their weight to carry and is trying to stay on even keel, and only just about managing (or maybe even not because don't we all try to keep up some appearance of keeping it all together?). I know that this pain at least is temporary, I will get through it, and the main thing is not to let it take over, to take delight in the little things that make me smile or happy.
Just sometimes it's harder than usual.
(Cubling hiding from my camera behind a gingerbread man from the farmers market)
There are some sitting activities though: watching football, knitting and maybe (once I get through the chaos that is my craft corner) even sewing. And then there was another little something that really brightened up my day. Just some words, implicit, not even aimed at me, but so breaking the pattern of communication that I've been extremely worried about recently. Funny how just one positive can break the pattern of negatives.
And that is what makes me hopeful that I'll get through this phase of The Moan.
