I fell yesterday in a spectacular fashion. A very large dog plowed into me from behind and because it was raining I went straight down on my back. No time for hands out, no time for a slow motion "Nooooooooooo" or even a squeak. Hurt like hell. I was convinced I may have cracked my pelvis - things were blurry for a minute, partly because I was seeing stars and partly because my own little dog was licking my face passionately. I don't know if he was ridiculously pleased to see me down at his level or loyally trying to revive me. I like to believe the latter.
Anyway, after about 40 minutes of rolling on the floor feeling sick in front of my horrified in-laws I was OK. The baby hiccuped non-stop and I suddenly realised - not even a terrible fall can bring on labour for me. Why am I bothering with curries and spikey fruit? Actually, it is probably no laughing matter - apart from the fresh green stains on my tracky bottom's butt that now blend in with the existing one.
I think I ruined one of my husband's work shirts in the fall. So today I have on an even finer one. And I am wearing Chanel earrings. I am seeing the midwife today. She will never believe I was
the victim of a terrible accident yesterday. I'll have to wear the tracky bottoms as evidence.If I could just move my pelvis I may be able to try out this poo bin. Not literally - the toilet works well for me - but there are lots of levers, wheels and plastic bags I can test out in preparation for that never-to-be-forgotten first poop. Better known as meconium. Or the Terror Turd.
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