Ok, no I don’t want baby back ribs. But I can’t talk about ribs without singing that song to myself.
Our daughter has done something to one of my ribs. Whether she bruised it, fractured it, cracked it (is that even different than saying “fractured”), drilled a hole in it and stuffed a note in it for the next baby to read…I don’t know.
But I can’t sneeze, cough, lift my arm above my head, breath in or out, walk up straight, etc without wanting to cry. Yes, I want to cry. And the most frustrating part is – I can’t have an x-ray to see what is really wrong with it, I can’t take pain medicine for it, and my jackass OB doctor didn’t even address it when I brought it up (he just indicated that “it happens…la la la”).
So I guess our baby’s a fighter, a kicker, or is just large. It’s ok baby girl…you break whatever you need to break…you come from a long line of claustrophobic women…so none of us blame you for freaking out in there every so often...it's cramped - and you're surrounded by bodily fluids - mommy gets it.