As of tomorrow, Baby Brudder will have been cooking for 37 weeks, making him a full-termer and me a very large and uncomfortable mommy. The big pregnant belly really limits one's movements, but as I found out last week, in an emergency situation you can still move pretty fast.
Sam and I go out and do errands about 3 times a week. Sometimes that is a whole trip to the grocery store, other times it is just a quick stop at the library. When we get home I pull Sammy out of his car seat, give him something small to carry, and instruct him to head for the house. He does so dutifully every time, excited to be a "big helper". Last Wednesday, however, a whole flock (herd?) of pigeons was pecking around my car, so Sam didn't want to help me- he just wanted to chase the birds. Which was going well, until the birds headed for the street. I pulled my head out of the car after loading up my arms with bags to see Sam heading for the street, too. Now, any parent knows that if you make any quick movements toward a two-year-old, he will just run further away from you while laughing his head off at your funny new "game". So I walked toward him, saying, "Time to go in, Sammy," in my most stern voice. Nothing doing. He streaked away, and I realized to my horror that he was not going to stop at the sidewalk. I started sprinting after him. You know how in movies how the running person drops everything in their arms as they run? It didn't even occur to me to let go of the things I carried. So I had three bags of produce, a diaper bag, my purse, and a library book in my arms, to say nothing of the small watermelon protruding from my abdomen, all weighing me down as I tried to get to Sammy before any cars did. I managed to catch up with him before he got to the middle turn lane, thanks to a conscientious driver who pulled up to him to keep him from going further into the street. I dragged him back to the sidewalk, sobbing in relief. Me, not him. He thought it was funny.
Half an hour later, after I'd calmed down and fed him lunch and the adrenaline wore off, I realized that walking was incredibly painful. Thankfully Sam went down easy for his nap, so I went to lay down, too. Even after a nice rest, I couldn't walk. At least, not without limping ridiculously. I tried crawling, but that hurt, too. A nurse at my doctor's office said I'd probably sprained the round ligaments that hold the uterus in place, but that I should be okay. I had a couple contractions, and got all excited that maybe I'd found a way of inducing labor. But the contractions went away, even though the pain did not.
Elisa came over the next day to chase Sam around and take him to the potty, and do all the stuff a mom does that require her to be mobile. Hopefully the extra rest I got that morning helped. It's been several days since it happened, and while I can walk, it's still pretty painful. I worry that it won't heal before the baby is born because the weight of my uterus continues to put strain on those ligaments, even without me running.
Moral: Do not run while pregnant. Unless your two-year-old is in imminent danger, in which case run like the wind. But lose the fruit and the library books.
"Near-Missed Day" Hits Home
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