If My Pubic Bone Could Talk

August 13, 2009

If my pubic bone could talk it would be like, "What the hell?"

But since it can't talk I'll speak on behalf of it by saying, "What the hell?"

I never experienced anything like this during my pregnancy with James, but this time around, whenever I exert myself to any degree, five minutes later I'm limping around like a cowboy who just rode his horse all the way across the great state of Texas (and got kicked in the groin with a steel-toed boot somewhere around Amarillo).

This pain-in-the-crotch of which I speak? It's 100% of the reason that I hung up my running shoes a couple weeks ago--I just couldn't stand it anymore. Well that and the teenage spit flying at me, but you know, whatever.

For the last four weeks or so, with the exception of a minute or two here or there (obviously when no one is looking), I've downgraded my running to walking and I'm not gonna lie, it totally blows. Don't get me wrong, I like to walk as much as the next menopausal woman in a terry-cloth sweatsuit, but honestly, I miss feeling the burn.

As a matter of fact, I miss feeling the burn so much, that if it hadn't been for my husband saying something completely assholian, like "Well stick a fork in her vanjango, folks--she's done," every time I limped into the kitchen after a run, I'd probably still be doing it.

But I'm not. So I guess that entire last paragraph is completely inconsequential.

Anywho, yesterday afternoon, James mustered up his very best manners and asked me if I wanted to play tag with him. He was like, "Mommy, may you play tag with me outside for some minutes?"

I couldn't resist his mastery of the English language, so obviously I said yes.

I also said yes on account of the fact that a good game of tag would burn some calories while simultaneously banking some serious super-mom points--but really now, who's keeping count of all the selfishness and ill-intentioned acts in the universe anyhow? (Oh. What's that you say? God is? Whoops.)

So we played tag, at full speed, for forty-five minutes.

This involved running up hills, down hills, around lawn ornaments (I have many), over rock walls, and through hedges without any break to speak of. By the time all was said and done, once I had lured James back to indoor sedentary comfort with the promise of a Kit-Kat bar, my pubic bone was on fire.

Notice I didn't say that my pubic bone felt like it was on fire, but that it was actually on fire. Because it was. On the inside. And that's the honest truth.

It hurt so badly that I actually decided to forgo walking and crawl to my front door--you know, for intense dramatic effect--but that hurt even worse, so I decided to cry like an almost-two-hundred-pound baby and walk the old fashioned way.

When Jared got home from church (yeah, keep that in mind) an hour or so later, he found me sprawled on the bathroom floor, clinging to my lady parts for dear life. As he stepped over my limp body, and unbuttoned his pants for what seemed to be an impending poop he was like, "Dude, what in the crap is wrong with you?"

And I was all, "You wanna know what's wrong with me? I played tag for forty-five minutes, now I'm paralyzed, unable to move, and I'll kill you if you take a dump while I'm incapacitated on this bathroom floor."

And my husband, the one who regularly makes me rethink the meaning of love, was all, "Sorry, Ames. Gotta do a poo whether you're paralyzed on the floor or not."

Apparently death threats mean nothing from a woman in my condition because there he sat, 'working out his issues' shall we say, while I used nothing but my toes to push my very pregnant body across the tile, out of the bathroom, and into the hallway--much like a snake, if a snake had toes.

Then he flushed, stepped over me again, went to the fridge and cracked open an icy cold Coke.

I was like, "Bastard."

And he was all, "Fatty."

And then he helped me up and smacked me on the rear like a baseball coach or something.

I was like, "What was that? Some kind of encouragement or something?"

And he was all, "Nope, just wanted to touch your ass." And that was the end of that.

The flame in my crotch (remember, that's literal, not figurative) continued to flare up for each of seven nocturnal bathroom trips, and still hurts like mother to this very moment.

And that's why, if my pubic bone could talk, if would totally be saying, "What the hell?"

The End.


Anonymous said...

While I'm really sorry to hear about your flaming pubic bone, that was one of your funniest posts EVER.

X-Country2 said...

Ha! I love it. Swimming might be an option if you're craving the burn, but you probably won't get any super mom of the year award for that.

K said...

The title was a little misleading... I was wondering where your 'public bone' was... ;)

Grandma said...

She has to have a James head that is resting there. Sounds like Pubic Symphysis Diastasis to me.(of course I never heard of that, but google "pubic pain in late pregnancy"...and it makes me sound like a dr.)I'm sure 45 min. rough tag doesn't help. You are going to guve your elderly neighbors heart attacks!

amylouwho said...


not that you're in pain - just the way you describe it. I hear creativity and superior writing is enhanced in late pregnancy. :)

Marie said...

freaking hilarious amy! as always, i appreciate the hell you go through so that we can all have a good laugh at your expense.

your welcome.

Mel said...

OMG you poor thing. And that husband of yours.... well he sounds like mine. I know my husband would have done that and then slapped my ass just to touch it. MEN!

loralei said...

I'm sorry for your pain, but that was a very funny post. I plan on incorporating "assholian" into my vocabulary.

chattypatra said...

Symphisis Pubic Dysfunction!


Apparently, a chiropractic alignment is one of the treatment options, although I doubt Jared would agree.

Feel better soon!!!

Chief said...

I will say, I have had the "crotch on fire" issue with both of my kids. It is indescribable. I have decided to say one of my special prayers for you.

Dear Heavenly Father,

Please heal this woman's Vajayjay. I know you can do it. Remember the time you helped me when I was constipated? Well, soon she will need to squeeze a human watermelon head through her "V" and she needs to rest. I know you already know this because you were the one who thought up this crazy birthing process thing. By the way, what about that? Were you having an off day when that whole crappy process was invented? Anywho, God you can make that whole thing up to us if you will just heal our crotches.

P.S. Thanks for the constipation thing, I forgot to thank you earlier.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

There, you should be good now, I added crap in my prayer again.

Sending love to your pubic bone

joolee said...

Been there. Felt that. Adding this to my list of all time favorite posts:)

Grandma said...

How I'd love to be at the prayer service when the congregation is asked to express any intentions and Chief would bust out w/ that awesome prayer!!!:)))

katieo said...

"while I used nothing but my toes to push my very pregnant body across the tile, out of the bathroom, and into the hallway--much like a snake, if a snake had toes."

hahaha! I just spit out part of my granola bar over that one...

dude. I am so sorry. I feel your pain. Actually, no I don't anymore and it feels FREAKING AWESOME. You are on the home stretch woman. Hang in there.

pam said...

:) aww MAN! "I like to walk as much as the next menopausal woman in a terry-cloth sweatsuit" haha.
I'm soo sorry about the pain--but that is one of your top posts, I think. LOVED it.

Amber Lynae said...

You pain not funny... You post frickin' hilarious. I especially like the line about your husband working out his issues. If he was my hubby working on his issues in smelling range I think I would have puked a little.

Keli said...

I'm going with the diagnosis of SPD. I have it. Well, had it, and it blows. Hard. The first pregnancy, nothing. The second, kind of a bitch to deal with for the last 6 weeks or so. The third pregnancy, in a wheel chair from about 10 weeks till about 7 months. Complete bed rest. The only thing that worked? Chiropractic adjustments! Thank goodness you happen to know a good one. Just don't tell Jared. ;)

Miranda said...

you crack me up...I'm in tears...literally...I think you should put together your own "memoirs" of your stories. I'd totally buy it. I still tell my friends about the one in "CJane enjoy it" and the treadmill.

Minnie said...

I have tears in my eyes from laughing.
I hate that you're in pain, but I'll agree with theloosemoose. One of your best.

Heather of the EO said...

How can something be so much fun and so terribly painful and annoying at the same time? I'm referring to pregnancy, of course.

You just gave a whole new meaning to the term "fire crotch." You totally rock.

Shelby Lou said...

have you ever listened to the song burning ring of fire by johnny cash?

soundtrack to your day.

insanesoccermom said...

Take it from a OB nurse - you definitely have a separated symphysis pubis. Your hubby should be able to help out in that department (and no, I don't mean anything crass by that!) Physio/chiro is the only thing that can (possibly) help the pain.

RunnerGirl said...

I think you and I are expecting at right about the same time! And sadly, I too have had the pubic bone pain every now and again, although not nearly as badly as you describe. My girl parts have not quite caught on fire yet (thank goodness!), so all I can do is give you a very heartfelt "that sucks".

The Roberts' Report said...

Ice packs, lots of ice packs!

Anonymous said...

hello... hapi blogging... have a nice day! just visiting here....

Anonymous said...

Im so sorry for your pain but I literally just spit out my ice tea reading this! sending you love and pubic symphysis positive chi xoxo

Anita said...

Whenever I need a smile, I just find your blog! Thanks for the chuckles.

Laura said...

I wanted to comment on the "cantaloupe in Temple" thing that showed up in my reader, but alas, it's gone. Now you're leaving me especially curious: why can't you bring cantaloupe to Temple?

Amy said...

Laura...I have no idea why that post keeps dissappearing...Google Reader picked up my unformatted rough draft. So weired.
Anywho...I don't think it's actually against the rules, I guess I just think it would be distracting to carry a really large fruit into any religious instituation, ya know?

BrianFlash said...

This might not be funny to you right now, but it is a complete riot to us!

Beccarigg said...

Freaking hilarious!!! I found your blog today and have been chuckling as I've read through your post. This one had my rolling on the floor though! The whole exchange with your hubby in the bathroom was a riot! Definitely adding your blog to my links!

mamazee said...

this is so my house...
"the rebozo method" at www.spinning babies.com

good stuff :)

sooooo funny!