Drama. Drama. Drama

So I have this friend, she’s a new mum and was having quite the week. I mean there’s a bad week, then there’s a rock bottom week and there’s a whole heap of crap coming at you from a never ending train of nasty kind of week, this was about the level she was working at this particular week.

One night she was up doing the late feed when a pain began to crack through her left shoulder. She switched positions with baby and bottle and the pain seemed to shift but not leave. She gave it another minute or two and somehow felt the pain increase. She said it was a pain she’d never felt before. It wasn’t a throb or a stab it was more like a wave of pain yet she couldn’t identify exactly where the pain was coming from.

Again she changed positions, sat more upright, gave the shoulders a little rotate and still the pain remained and began to swell. A tingling sensation began to run up and down her left arm. Her shoulder blade began to burn. The pain spread right around her left arm and seemingly onto her chest, or was that just her imagination? She couldn’t recall.

“This is it” she thought to herself. So bad was her week thus far that she was already ready to meet her maker yet thinking practically for a brief minute she thought it best to go and tell her husband who lay sleeping in the next room.

She bundled up the baby in her ‘good arm’ and went to her husband.

“I’m in pain, here take the baby” she dramatically thrust the baby into her dozing husbands arms, for the second time that week, and threw herself onto the bedroom floor (as any good actress would do) gripping her left arm.

“Oh the pain. This is is. It’s text book. Shooting pains going up and down my left arm. It’s tingling. Oh my arm is going numb. What is happening?”

She told me how her husband looked down at her writhing in pain on the floor with little to no reaction on his sleepy face. Somehow, she told me remembering the moment, she didn’t feel satisfied that he was concerned at all that she may actually die right there and then.

She told me how despite being in extreme pain and calling out an accurate blow by blow account of all her symptoms and levels of pain her husband seemed unperturbed by the developing situation and instead of consoling her or even praying that God would open the pearly gates he told her she was more likely experiencing a trapped nerve, not a heart attack.

“It can’t be a trapped nerve, it’s agony” She insisted, wondering if she had the strength to roll herself around to her side of the bed to call an ambulance off her phone if he was determined to watch her die.

“Have you got pins and needles in your hand?” Her husband began

“Yes I have. Shooting pains. I can’t feel my arm. It’s agony!”

“Muscle weakness, numbness or a decreased sensation in the area supplied by the nerve”

“Stop reading out a list of symptoms, I’m dying here!”

“It’s a trapped nerve babe”

“Really? But it’s agony”

“Yeah. It’ll be a trapped nerve” he continued his face devoid of any emotion.

Like the crash of a wave upon a rock she told me the pain washed away down her left arm. The blood flow returned to her left hand with a throb. She led still on the floor doing an internal check of any other pain in her body. Once no pain was discovered she sat up and looked at her husband blankly.

“Well that was strange” she said retrieving the babe from his arms. She felt a mixture of joyous relief it was over yet strangely disappointed in the lack of her husbands reaction over his once ‘dying’ wife. She told me his face was the picture of justification over his perfect diagnosis and complete abandon of any human emotion as, in fact, he had already fallen asleep.

So ran the narrative of what was a real high point in my week, I mean my friends week! Oh who’s kidding – yes this was my story. I apparently had a trapped nerve one night while feeding baby although this was never confirmed by a medical professional just a knackered out husband desperate for his dramatic wife to stop being so, well, dramatic.

Further stories to follow of the train wreck of nasty kind of a week.

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Coping

As you can imagine my brain hasn’t really been flowing with the juices of creativity this last four weeks, but I wanted to jump on to answer a question that everyone has been asking.

I have been trying to write this post for about two weeks but every time I begin a paragraph my mind fogs out and sleep calls. I tried writing on good days and I tried writing on bad days but neither one brought me the perspective I was looking for to answer the question well. The question is, are you coping? My answer on a good day, a good day being one where I have showered, drunk more than one glass of water and half a cup of tepid tea is, yes I am thank you!

A bad day would be like yesterday for example. It began with a headache. Never a good sign. I’ve been getting really bad headaches since baby was born but I now know it’s because of a lack of sleep which means waking up with one isn’t a great start.

By the end of the day everyone was overtired, cranky and full of wind. My husband had to go out again and an hour after bedtime the kids were still shouting at each other, so I began shouting back. The baby was still crying and I nearly cried back. She was so past sleep she couldn’t settle so I sat in the dark with her and I prayed. I prayed for forgiveness for shouting at my kids. I prayed for peace to fall upon the house and I prayed for strength for my husband.

The song that dropped into my heart that started an impromptu worship time is a truth that has kept my heart pumping and soul leaping despite the bone tiredness and despite the extra pressures and pains that life heaps on top of you. It’s an oldie but a goodie;

‘Great is thy faithfulness, Great is thy faithfulness.

Morning by morning new mercies I see

And all I have needed thy hand hath provided

Great is thy faithfulness Lord unto me’

Those are the moments when if you’d ask me, am I coping? I would laugh with hot tears in my eyes. Yet the real truth is, I do cope because really I am coping. Good day or bad day it eventually comes to an end and when it does I am able to recall the day as;

‘Good, with some peripheral crap to contend with that frankly I’d rather forget’

I cope because I have discovered a legal addictive stimulant called coffee ( I usually only drink tea ) I cope because I have a solid routine in my house that has kept all of us in line and in sanity, not that it works everyday. I cope because I want to thrive in motherhood not just survive and I cope because God created me to be a mother, and that fundamental truth has been driven to my absolute core.