I've gone and done it. Pulled a muscle on the right side of my lower back. No clue how I did it, but boy does it hurt. It hurts to reach and grab things, it hurts to sit here at my desk and type this. It hurts to sleep. About the only time it doesn't hurt is when I'm walking. And the usual painkillers or anti-inflammatory meds you might take for a pull/spasm are just not an option for me right now.
Friday, the doctor prescribed a Maternity Support Band for me. You guys... it's a girdle. The doctor prescribed me a girdle. And not just any girdle. It's an industrial strength girdle. It comes in three pieces. It requires instructions to successfully put it on lest you wind up velcroing yourself to your covers. Instructions with pictures in case you can't follow along. And it's huge. It's no easy feat to get that kind of coverage on me these days, but that thing starts about mid back and covers me right to my tail bone. There's a cutout for my belly and a little strap that goes over the top of my stomach that does nothing but showcase the fact that I am, in fact, huge. It's like a giant, white bullseye. And you have to wear it over your clothes since it's itchy.
This girdle means business.
I'm only wearing it at home. And only after reading the medical journal article that assured me I'm not crushing her in there. The husband and I have all kinds of jokes we make about this elastic contraption. The dog eyeballs it warily. But the bottom line is... it works. It's a bit of relief for what would otherwise be a constant pain in my back.
I have a love/hate relationship with this
girdle Maternity Support Band. Hate the way I look in it. Love how it makes my back feel. Did I mention that I wear my Crocs at the same time? It's like a double-dose of "Hey, Who's Really Pregnant?". I call them my Hobbit shoes, and while I'll never get any points for looking "cute-pregnant" (you know, like the petite gals with the adorable baby bump in their skinny jeans and 2-inch pump sandals) you have not felt true relief on your feet as a pregnant lady until you slip on the wide, forgiving awesomeness that is a Croc.
So, the next time you see me on Live @ 7 and you feel tempted to tell me to stop wearing those heels, just know that the split second I get home, all that fancy stuff goes right out the window and I turn into a pumpkin. A pregnant pumpkin. Wearing a huge white elastic girdle and squishy shoes. Nice visual, eh?
God Bless the husband who makes me feel beautiful through it all. I really can't tell you how lucky I feel.