Figuring It Out

After ten days of live in help, my Mom packed her bags and headed home. To say that I was sad to see her leave would be an understatement; I am certain that I would not have been able to have the revision surgery without her. Knowing that she was taking care of Timmy and Robby provided me with the peace that I needed to simply let go of the parental responsibilities and just rest.

With her gone, I have been finding my way through caring for a newborn without the use of my leg. It certainly isn't easy by any means, but given no other options we are making it work. Although I am capable of caring for my family without walking, the time and extra energy required to do basic tasks from my knee scooter make me miss my prosthesis. It is going to be a long and exhausting summer until I am up and walking again!

My living room has been virtually transformed into a make-shift nursery. I have been sleeping on the couch with Timmy in his cradle or pram so that I am within close proximity to the bottles, diapers and all of our other baby related needs. (It is amazing how somebody so small requires so much large equipment.) Although sleeping on the couch is pragmatic, it is certainly not comfortable. It is nearly impossible to elevate my limb, and Charlie Cat feels compelled to use my body as a climbing structure in the middle of the night. 

When I am not being climbed like Mount Everest or soothing a fussy and gassy baby, I am trying to adjust to the night time noises of our living room. I am occasionally startled awake by an unprompted crashing sound. Last night I caught Charlie Cat in the act as he leaped full velocity directly into the patio door in a determined attempt to pounce on an unidentified animal with shining eyes on the other side of the glass.

Although I can hold Hamlet while using the scooter, I feel more comfortable keeping him in his pram. I realize that having a large stroller in the middle of my living room is unorthodox, but at this point I find it practical. I am able to propel the scooter while pushing or pulling the pram to various locations. When I don't use the pram, Timmy is securely strapped to my chest with his baby carrier.  I have figured out ways to move him independently, but it is certainly not quick, easy or pain free.  (The surgical wounds are still fresh and tender when I scoot.)  As a result, we spend much of our day in the rocker or recliner. 

I'm slowly accepting that I may have to do things in an unconventional manner, but the important thing is that they are getting done. Timmy doesn't care how he gets to the changing table, and he is a content and happy little baby because he is held so much. The next few weeks will be difficult, but I know that we will manage. I am no stranger to adapting and figuring things out.