Putting all my Eggs in the Chiropractor's basket

People told me being pregnant difficult. I realized being pregnant would be especially difficult for me, given my anxiety, the day the test flashed positive.

People told me labor would be difficult. Too many moms took it upon themselves to tell me just how difficult their labor was. Like it's a right of passage: have baby, use experience of labor to terrify mothers-to-be about said labor.

People still tell me parenting is difficult. I tell myself daily that parenting is difficult. It's obvious.

But what people neglected to tell me was just how difficult my post-baby body would become. I expected stretch marks, but lucked out in that department. I'd heard stories of nursing mothers whose breasts resembled socks filled with rocks. Again, I sneak by with a good push-up bra. I even remember my mom telling me her feet grew by 1/2 size. Seemed like a small sacrifice.

But here's what they didn't tell me:

My feet didn't grow a size, but my joints loosened, making my bunions even that more painful. I now have bursitis in my left big toe joint. I've always had hyper-extendable joints, but the pain is just that much more severe. And my joints pop out of place more easily.

My body decided to grown skin tags while I was pregnant. And of course, several of these annoying little tags were in extremely sensitive places. That turned out to be the most embarrassing, and the most painful, dermatologist appointment of my life. And as someone who was on Accutane three times, I've had some awful dermatology experiences.

I've acquired a tire around my midriff. My mother always told me to suck in my tummy, which I did religiously. But sucking in your tummy just doesn't work when you're pregnant. Juni is now 3-years-old, and I'm still retraining my tummy muscles to stay contracted. The tire doesn't help. It's the consistency of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

I realize I'm a prime candidate for some mild body dismorphia, and that other people probably see me as thinner than I see myself in the mirror. But still. Change is change. And this is SO not the body I signed up for.

My left shoulder has a partial sublaxation from repeatedly picking up Juni. It's similar to the muscle strains I'd feel after a week of softball practice, but doesn't go away. Apparently a 31-year-old shoulder just doesn't rebound like it used to. I can't raise my left hand above my shoulder because it just plain hurts.

I have a misaligned bone in my neck, causing inflammation of the surrounding muscle. My massage therapist says this is a very common condition in moms, since picking up children places so much stress on our necks. I find myself continuously trying to stretch the muscles in my neck to make it comfortable. No deal.

My left hip has become lower than my right. This isn't something I can see, it's something my massage therapist noticed. It's from constantly having a baby, and then toddler, propped on my left hip. It also places undue stress on my back and neck.

My lower back is in constant pain. It started while I was pregnant, and worsened since delivery. A this point the pain is so intense that I can't roll over in my sleep without waking up. I can't get out of my son's bed without holding my breath and wincing. I can't bend down and pick up toys on the floor without sharp pains. I've always had a weak back, and am used to some aches. But this is ridiculous. I can't sit on a couch without fidgeting and stretching, trying to make myself comfortable. Driving is painful. Sleeping is painful. Gardening is painful. I'm thinking at this point you realize...my back is painful.

I was thinking that after pregnancy I'd have some weight to loose and some stretch marks...maybe sock-rock boobs. But pain? I thought that ended with the epidural and various other meds. Not so much.

And so, next week I am officially putting all my eggs in the chiropractor's basket. I've tried massage. I've tried medications. I've tried stretching and I've tried yoga. Nothing has worked. I'm banking on the chiropractor to help me get my body back into working order...


Stay tuned for more Stories about the Redneck's Wife:
Scared Sick
Searching for a purpose-driven life (and blaming it on Oprah)
Yes, I'm a writer. And no, I never finished a book in high school
Visions of sugar plums...and dead babies...in my head
Dealing with my Boobie Bandit