And, as unbelievably as this may seem, I didn�t spend the last week-plus in a depressed haze of broken pelvic floor muscles that can�t be fixed.

I�ve simply been busy with life. (It is really difficult to get to my email and journaling while chasing around my roly-poly four-month-old baby. That�s all.)

I am actually in a relatively good place. I figure, hey, things can�t get any worse, right? Right! It�s all uphill from here!

Seriously.

The surgeon said my pelvic floor muscles, if truly unattached, cannot be reattached. And she said that the ones that have atrophied from neurogenic reasons will either come back or they won�t. And that�s all there is to say about that.

Except I�m scheduled to see THE pelvic floor specialist in these here United States in a few weeks. And who knows, right? He could say that the Ice Queen Doctor was full of shit. And that I can be fixed.

But no matter what he says, it can�t be a worse prognosis than I already have.

So I�m cool.

I�ve decided that pissing and moaning about my poor self will not actually CURE my poor self, and thus is a waste of my time and energy. Especially when Baby Catnip is such a resource hog of said time and energy.

So there ya go.

My child is 16 weeks old this coming weekend. SIXTEEN WEEKS! She�s rolling around like a little steamroller. And she�s drooling up a storm. And she�s not sleeping very well at all. And she may or may not be teething. And she�s still growing like a weed.

Her baptism is this weekend. That�ll be a lovely evening. We went to a �baptism class� yesterday to prep for the weekend and I cried during class, I was so moved. I imagine that the waterworks will flow bigtime during her actual baptism!

The in-laws are coming to stay with us over the weekend. Not particularly looking forward to houseguests, but not going to dwell on it. It�ll be a quick weekend � lots of activities jam-packed into our time � so I�ve got that going for me, which is nice.