Sunday, August 22, 2010

Injuries I Have Sustained in the Last 24 Hours

The first doesn't really count as an injury, but it still hurt like hell, so I'm including it. Being whale-ishly preggo in August brings lovely symptoms, like edema. My newly formed cankles don't really bother me (except for injury #4--see below), but my sausage hands have got to go. Every night, my sluggish blood has trouble draining out of my hands, making them fall asleep (and thereby waking me up) and then making my knuckles hurt. Friday night, despite the contortions I was attempting to sleep in to keep my hands above my heart/head, I was awoken at 4am with a right hand that looked like it should belong to Wile E Coyote after a steam roller had run over his limb. It hurt. It tingled. It would not be calmed. I found myself pacing around the room, shaking my hand up and down and cursing under my breath. Poor J woke up and wondered what the hell was going on. In his sleepy state, he was kind enough to massage my hand until he fell asleep again. (This took approximately 2 minutes. J is not one to be easily woken, which is going to be super interesting once LO arrives). I'm ready for my hands to come back to normal. Luckily, last night I found that sleeping on a wedge shaped pillow allowed me to keep my hands above my head and my body asleep, except for the 3 obligatory trips to the bathroom (with the optional midnight trip to the kitchen for a drink of water thrown in at no extra charge!)

Pregnancy clumsiness #1 for Saturday: while placing the car seat in my back seat, preparatory to go to the car seat clinic to be shown the correct installation (which, by the way, was terrifying), I lost my balance and fell backwards, scraping my heel on one of the pavers lined around the tree in our front yard. It was a minor injury--no actual blood--but it was in such a place that it was difficult for me to see or doctor it in any way. I've never been the picture of grace, but adding in a waddle and a different center of gravity is not helping.

Pet related injury #1 for Saturday: Teasing J can sometimes be hazardous. We were discussing dinner options with our out of town guest, and J remarked that he should get cleaned up if we were going out. I told him he smelled. He came closer to hug me and cover me with his gross, I've-been-cleaning-out-the-garage-in-armpit-weather-for-5-hours-this-afternoon smell. Those of you who know me know that I am very smell oriented. I like to stick my nose right in J's neck, or the cat's shoulders, or a beloved blanket and take a big ol' whiff. And even when J is nasty stinky, he smells pretty good to me. (TMI? I thought so). So when I opened my arms to accept his nasty smell, he changed directions, picked up the cat, and dropped her in my lap. She and I were both fairly happy with this situation, but she was a little off balance, and in attempting to reorient herself, she found purchase with her claws. On my arm. Ouch.

Pregnancy clumsiness #2 and pet related injury #2 for Saturday (single incident): I let Obie out into the back yard without first checking to see that the gate was closed. 10 minutes later, as J and I were in the baby's room looking out the window, we realized that the gate was open and went thundering down the stairs. J went out the front door and I went out the back. In my rush, I of course landed funny on my left leg and twisted my ankle. I limped around the back yard calling for the dog, while J found him chilling on a neighbor's porch. (I believe Obie's exact reaction was "What? What's wrong?") I limped inside and iced my ankle and put it up. It got better, somewhat. However, I am now not only waddling, but also limping. I'm starting to understand why people treat very pregnant women like china dolls. I just wish I felt pretty and china-doll-like, instead of "What on earth is wrong with Big Hands McWalksfunny over there?" (J wants to know why I always come up with ridiculous names that are Irish. So, alternatively, I could be Sausagefingers Waddlestein.) If I were a china doll, I could have a litter carried by nubile young men as my mode of transport. As a waddling/limping/puffy/scab-covered whale (I haven't even mentioned the injuries that are still healing from prior to these 24 hours), I feel like some sort of zoo attraction. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have here the rare pregnant klutz! In her natural environment. Don't get too close, or she'll fall on you!"

All I can say is: pregnancy glow, my ass!

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