Stalled

I...just...can't....do....it.  I'm at the part where I try to talk about those early days back to the office for full days, and I just can't make myself do it.  I still hurt and wince thinking about it.  Here I am months later, thinking I have a grip on this thing, and the fog is lifting, and I stop.

The reality is that June was a blur.  I was allowed to work 2 days from home and 3 days in the office from 7-3.  Cake right?  Right?  Ummmm...right?

Every morning I snuggled close to my little angel.  The sun came in through the shades and I fed her once more before dragging myself out of bed: dragging my painful body into an upright position.  I hobbled down the steps and into the shower, took a handful of motrin and pepcid, packed my breakfast and lunch, drug myself back up the stairs, stared at her for a few more minutes then stummbled back down the stairs and out the door.  Getting into the car was a chore, let alone the half hour drive sending pains throughout my lower half. 

I was usually the first person into the office.  I turned on my laptop, set up my pump in the privacy room and started my day.  Usually I cried sitting at my desk for a bit - at least until the next early bird arrived - by then I would have to staple the smile across my face and pray I didn't have to get out of my chair too often that day.  I mostly found myself struggling to concetrate on my work.  I would take care of some emails and meetings, then suddenly be fighting back tears.  I would yelp every time I had to stand up to go pump or deliver mail or go to a meeting, getting up and moving became an impossibility. 

Those weeks in June came and went in less than a blink of an eye.  Those lovely days at home I relished the extra hour of sleep and the personal feeding times.  I was able to spend time actually working since I could limit my movements, thus limiting my pain, and I could steal special moments with my little girl. Then came the moment that 5 full days days a week in the office slapped me like an anvil.  I paniced.  There was no way.  I couldn't stay home and I couldn't go to work: my world was being swallowed by an abyss.

I had found a local ppd group months earlier, but didn't want to think I couldn't do this on my own.  I mean what choice did I really have.  But my sisters and husband couldn't handle me any more and stopped putting it to me gently.  The damage to my family became visible and almost irreconcilable.  Even if just to keep the peace I had to make myself go.  I went.  I cried.  I learned I wasn't the only one who had these feelings and lived in this fog and tried each day to wade though the darkness that consumed.

Now I found that teeny tiny bit of motivation to seek more help.  I called a local doc and she ran a load of tests.  She sent me to a spine doc who ran more tests.  He sent me to a rheumatologist who ran more tests.  Each one put another piece into the puzzle: SI joint dysfunction, bursitis, planters facitis, fibromyalgia, exhaustion, depression.

Before all the results were in I needed some help from anywhere.  I couldn't afford to go on disability, so I reached out to see if I could get some support at work, perhaps I could continue with at least one day a week from home.  I approached HR first since I thought that was the logical place to start. I don't know where everything went wrong, but very quickly my motivation and steps in the right direction were swallowed by the beast of working motherhood.  My doctor's note wasn't accepted by HR and my boss was getting frustrated with my inability to function.  I was told to consider myself lucky that I still had a job in this environment.  I was scared and so beaten by the ppd that I couldn't fight back.  Now I know I could have done more: persued additional medical support; spoken to an attorney even; but I felt like a child put in a time out.  I couldn't open my mouth.  I was afraid I would lose my job.  I was terrified.  And had no where left to turn.

I sobbed each afternoon on my way home.  I sobbed each night falling asleep.  I sobbed each morning on my drive in.  And I sobbed all day at my desk, in the privacy room, and in the ladies room.  I couldn't stop the tears.  The tears spilled for the physical hurts, the mental hurts, all the pain the universe find assaulted me.  I hated my life in every way...except for my beautiful angel...my only reason to live.