The happy family

Last Saturday, 7pm, I was standing at the exit of a department store telling M that I had to take a cab home. I couldn't stay out with him to take advantage of the babysitter even one more minute because my hips, my tailbone, my thighs, my upper legs were in so much randomly flashing pain.

Tears started to well in my eyes upon giving in to the fact that my back pain was back. My first thought was extreme disappointment that I had spent half of my days the last 2 weeks resting lying down to try to avoid this.

Next thought, more disappointment that I would have to cancel a trip to meet M for his birthday at the end of a business trip this weekend. Complete disappointment. Feeling like I was letting down his birthday.

After that, the thought that I had to go home and lay down as soon as possible because I need to be able to sit on a plane in a few weeks to go on holiday. I just have to. We need to make to that beach, and play in the sand, and sit in the sun, and eat great food and just hang out, because that family is the happy family. The one that lives in Europe and travels. The one that is doing fine. How am I so sure? Well, they're on holiday of course! See them? Yes, the lightly laughing ones with the lovely simple picnic of artisanal foods from the local market. How will they ever decide which sea shells to bring home and which to leave?

Sure there was a miscarriage this year, but maybe they'll try again. That second child, an even bigger indicator that they are all alright, because if you're not alright, you can't go and have yourself another kid. That would be crazy. And irresponsible. Responsible people, who are not just asking for trouble from fate, take into account their limitations when they make decisions.

Irresponsible people end up on Judge Judy, Nanny 911, and pretty much any reality show out there. 

But my back had different ideas about this all. The herniated disc I was so sure I'd successfully nursed back to health over the last year, was back. And for days now I haven't been able to even pick up the child I have. Or get her meals. I can just about get her diaper changed and her dressed for school in the morning. If it is a poopy diaper, yeah, sorry, I'm out. I can't support my upper torso with my back yet, so I need to use one of my arms to lean on. And if you have ever changed a mushy poopy diaper, try imagining that fiasco.

I could seriously restrict the fiber in this child's diet, and gain back another competency. Harder poops detach themselves from a baby butt without much wiping. As for the little, round, diaper escape artists, as long as they stay intact, we're fine. You can catch them after the butt is safely re-diapered. Houston, we have no problem.

But as I spend more hours laying down - around 70 now - I'm starting to realize I may need to redefine what I can do again. Like I had to do with depression. So far these are but tiny, fleeting thoughts pushing their way into my brain while I try to distract myself with bad movies, worse TV and pointless websites. Oh, and an endless game on my iPhone.

What if I now have to become the woman with depression and back problems, who decided not to have another child because our family just couldn't handle it? What will that say about me, about our family? Why do I care? How do I take the desire to have had a second, look-how-normal-and-great-we-are child out of my picture of the happy family? Or my having a job right now? Or a number of other things that I think I want, but am not always sure why?

I can spend inordinate amounts of energy trying to craft the perfect-looking, certifies-me-as-happy life, without sitting down and looking at where true happiness will come from. I finally laminated a Richard Scary getting-dressed-in-the-morning checklist for A today. And luckily, I remembered to turn off the laminator. That is going to have to do it for the happy checkbox.

Well this post represents some 30 minutes gone, that I probably should have filled watching another Portlandia episode.