Hobbles McGrumpy Pants.

I sat in the waiting room.  Across from me was a row of chairs, framed by the usual stock standard waiting room art that is usually spectacularly boring.  I filled out my form.  Occupation? Chief in Negotiations?  Commander of please put your socks on? Or how about Please don't overfeed the fish and kill them.  I circled that I indeed was having a baby and dove into the depths of my bag hoping my medicare card would present itself.

Form filled and medicare card located, I waited.

Osteo o'clock.

I have never seen one in my life.  I had no idea what to expect, but I did have an epic hobble and a surly look on my face that would've rivalled that Twilight bird. 

SPD. Or if you are ever filling out a crossword puzzle: Symphysis pubis dysfunction. 

Oh no really, it's as fun as it sounds.

Here, read this and send me all your tea & sympathy: http://www.babycenter.com.au/a546492/pelvic-pain-spd

I know, hit the jack pot Loz they call me.

It makes me one part hobbly and ten parts really shitty.  It feels like your joints have been replaced with razor blades and you think life might be easier if you put scaffolding around your tummy.  It also makes someone who have never met before manipulate parts of your groin to the point that I feel I should of bought her dinner first.  

It also makes me incredibly sad.  

It's not an injury that you can really push through with, you should really rest.  Not that I am really capable in signing up to The Marathon, but I'd like to check the mail without clutching my bits and crying in the kitchen because I am flipping over it.

I think the hardest part, is you know what a precious bundle you are carrying. I still fight my inner voice, the one that tells me how lucky I am.  With a history of endometriosis, I still remember being told that to carry a child would be hard.  So, guilt.  Then your daughter runs up to you for a hug, and you can't pick her up.  So, guilt.  It's lunch time, and you know you should get a start on it.  But the thought of even walking to the kitchen.. hurts.

I feel I am half parenting EG. In typical 4 year old fashion, she is finding her feet, her confidence and voice.  She pushes boundaries and I feel battle weary and can't even fathom how I'll fend this one. 

And the morning vomits are back.

I know.  

Half way.  20 weeks today.  A huge milestone.  

If you need me, I have promised EG a movie night.  You'll find me having a pit stop on the way to the popcorn aisle..