John had been taking Rudy with him to the gym every morning since Avery was just a few days old. The gym has a free daycare so Rudy gets to get out, play with other kids, interact with other adults; John gets to work out every day (and usually with people he works with so I imagine there's some socializing in there too!); and I get about 2 hours at home with just me and Avery (which usually is enough time for a shower and a feeding! And maybe a bath for Miss Avery, too).
It's been working out great...until Christmas Eve. John came home early while I was still in the shower. He yelled at me through the door that he had hurt himself and had to go to the ER. I was speechless immediately concerned. John has to basically be on his death bed to go to the doctor, so I knew it must be serious. I could tell he was in a lot of pain and he was very upset...this was not how we had envisioned our first Christmas Eve as a family of four. When he returned home they had told him he "must have just pulled something" due to what motion he had and gave him some pain killers, a shot for the inflammation, and a sling. He was told it would be 4-6 weeks to heal. Considering John's job, this was some pretty awful news. Not only did we have a 10 day old baby, but also a crazy 16 month old -- and now two parents on pain meds who aren't supposed to lift more than 5-10 pounds. To top that off, I had been having bad back pain that dissipated all around to my lower abdomen for a few days. It kept getting worse and I was feeling pretty bad, enough that I thought to take my temp. It was 100.6. I checked the "When to Call the Doctor" list of symptoms the hospital had given me when we left and sure enough, I should have called earlier. It was 12:15 and the office closed at noon. Of course. Luckily, the telenurse was great and was able to get ahold of the ob-gyn on call who diagnosed me with an infection -- either uterine or my episiotomy. Both would be treated with the same antibiotics, so thankfully, I didn't have to be seen, just a quick trip to Walgreens. If that is what was bothering me, I would be feeling better the next day. If not, she said to go to the ER. We were a couple of sad-sacks! I was determined I would not be at the ER on Christmas, though... and thank God, I felt so much better even the next morning!
John, on the other hand, was not feeling much better the next morning...or the next morning...and he had swollen up like crazy and had a HUGE, super nasty bruise on his entire bicep. He went to see his doctor the morning after Christmas, who took one look at him and said, "You had to have torn something. I'm calling the orthopedic doctor right away." He met with the ortho doc that afternoon, had an MRI a couple days later, and due to all the holidays and weekends, he was just able to get the results of the MRI late last week (talk about an anxious wait!). And thank God, again, he was cleared to go back to work for his next shift. He ended up tearing a muscle in his chest and rotators cuff, but all would heal on their own and with at-home exercises. Best news we could have gotten. The thought of surgery, more time off work, being "limited," etc was incredibly disheartening for John. Luckily, this was just a little hiccup and he's been feeling better every day.
Which means the time has come for me to spend 24 hours alone as a mother of two. Deep breaths. I can do this. Gran is going to come over to help out for the first shift, but I won't have that luxury next week. I keep reminding myself how nervous and sad I was when John went back to work when it was just me and Rudy. And how it was difficult at first, but now I would take Rudy alone any day (Sure, he's a hellion and makes it nearly impossible to get anything done, but I'm not intimidated by it and I've learned how to make it work to do what I need to do) . So this has to be the same. (Right???) I'm sure it will take us some time to get a routine worked out and for everyone to adjust to just "Ma-Ma" around, but we will get there.
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