Fashion for the Chronically Pained

My fashion accessories for today:

And since I know everyone is dying to know just how I get my "look", I'll let you in on my secret.

First, I started with a pair of black leggings (leggings because they fit well under braces, and black because, well, they make the black braces slightly less noticeable?).

After that I threw a knee brace on each leg for a little stability and just to really make a statement (I believe the statement I was going for was something like "please, knees, stop giving out on me and let me get through today. Oh, and maybe don't slip out of place because I'm getting really tired of the nerve pain that comes along with that").

Anyway, I then completed this awesome ensemble with a pair of cute running shoes since, you know, cute flats are out unless they can accommodate orthotics (which they never can) and heels are totally and completely, just... NO. I made sure to get them in a trendy color so that I look like I'm fashionable and athletic and not so much like a crippled grandma.

So there you have it.

I know, you're jealous of my style. I can't help that my chronic illnesses make me so darn sexy :P

Worries

I worry sometimes...

Ok, that's a lie, I worry ALL the time (thanks, Anxiety). Sometimes, however, the things I worry about are more justified than others. Today, I had a thought: I realized that I may have doomed my children to a horrible fate. I've thought about and "guilted" over it before, but today it really hit me so specifically that the guilt has gone to a whole new level.

See, my children each have a 50/50 chance of getting my health problems. I didn't know this when I was wishing, hoping, and praying for a baby that didn't seem like she'd ever come, and I still didn't know this when we decided to have a second little one join our family.

At the time I thought I was an anomaly. I thought my issues were mine alone; my fluky, messed up body was just a mistake. It wasn't until my second child was a few months old that I figured out what was wrong with me, and that it was a genetic condition.

Sure, there is definitely a chance that neither of them will get it, and if they did get it, this syndrome is so varying that their symptoms might be much milder than mine. On the other hand, they could be worse than I am, much, much worse :(

It's difficult to tell at this point, and so I worry.

I worry every time they wake crying in the night, thinking they might be in pain from a day of running and just being kids. I worry when my little guy gags and chokes when he eats and drinks, just like his mama. I worry when I watch my daughter walk and see her arches collapse as she over-pronates. "That's normal, they're healthy" the pediatrician tells me, and I try not to let my fears affect my little ones; it's just so hard knowing that my pediatrician said the same thing about me.

Anyway, today I was thinking, and dreaming about what my little man would end up doing with his life, and it struck me that I may have ruined him. He is so athletically inclined; at 18 months he already kicks a ball better than a lot of three year-olds I know. He loves balls of all kinds, he loves to kick and throw, and run and jump. It's fun to think of where he might go with his skills. That is, until the image pops up of a very short, painful athletic career, filled with injuries and frustrating limitations. What if I have stolen his dreams from him??

Obviously, I can't do anything about it now, so worrying and feeling guilty at this point is silly, but sometimes I just can't help it. I've never imagined a future for my babies in which they were anything but healthy and happy, and the thought of anything less is just crushing, especially knowing it would be my fault. The DNA I gave them, my egg, my genetics... Me.

Garg. Apparently I'm in a sulky mood this afternoon... I just wish I could see into the future and prepare for what lies ahead.

I hate not knowing.