Call me Grace(-ful)

You know how you sometimes forget small details of a situation until you are forced to either remember or relive them? I didn't see "Become awkward" on my list of things to do today, but realized it must be there when I was momentarily wedged between the door and the wall of a bathroom stall at work.

Good times.

I'll admit, my mid-section is growing. However, I didn't think it was THAT big. Maybe it was just the angle of the situation. Maybe I was simply in too much of a hurry and miscalculated the distance. Whatever the case, I'm sure the surprise and shock registered on my face when -- for just a second or two -- I couldn't budge. In fact, I wouldn't have been any more surprised to open the door and find Publisher's Clearinghouse standing in the ladies' room with balloons and a check for a million dollars made out to yours truly.

I quickly un-wedged myself from the stall and went about my hand-washing business, thankful there hadn't been anyone else around to witness my "proud" moment. That came later, when trying to get out of the car somewhat gracefully after returning from lunch. I believe an ostrich on Rollerblades would have been more graceful than I was. I think the problem lies in the fact that I'm driving a VW Jetta most of the time, and have to actually do some hoisting to get out. With my other two pregnancies, I drove a Jeep Cherokee and Ford Expedition. All I had to do was, basically, open the door, lean over and slide out.

I had forgotten how an ever-expanding belly can knock a person off balance or get in the way at times. I just hope from here on out I remember to at least try and look graceful as I lumber about.

Me first, me first!

It sounds disgustingly selfish -- "me first." Those who know me know my life is a whirlwind and it's rare that I just sit down for the sake of sitting down. My hectic lifestyle caught up with me last week, as I dealt with running a million miles an hour, battling a particularly intense episode of allergies (a new and exciting development as I approach middle age!), and... oh, yes... building a tiny human being. By Friday morning, my head hurt so much I could barely see straight. I took off from work a couple of hours early to try and fix the problem; later, I discovered it had probably been a "caffeine headache," as I hadn't had my daily allotted small soy latte. Saturday, I was up before the sun, to get our oldest to school (marching band competition) and then head downtown for our city's first mini-marathon. I wasn't running (despite a desperate longing to do so), but there to support a friend and her husband. He was running his first mini ever, and raising money for the American Cancer Society. (If anyone wants to see a truly inspirational story, visit www.indianasnewscenter.com and watch the segment titled "Man loses 100 lbs. to run...") Anyway, after cheering on runners for the better part of 90 minutes, I headed home, only to start experiencing noticeable Braxton-Hicks contractions. Nothing will make you sit up and take notice faster than an unexpected contraction when you know darn well you've been burning the candle at both ends. I rested, but still had a weekend full of places to go and things to do around the house. Late Sunday afternoon, after hoisting a full laundry basket upstairs for folding, I realized I had officially reached "overdone" status. I ordered myself to lay on the bed and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the evening except drink lots of water and watch TV.

I realized my standard operating procedure for everyday life had to change. As much as I'd like to think I'm able to handle anything thrown my, I have to admit I have different limits these days. I found myself so busy taking care of everyone and everything else, it apparently slipped my mind that there's a little one inside me who needs me more than anyone else right now. So, this morning, I let myself sleep in an extra hour. I enjoyed an actual breakfast (made by my wonderful husband) rather than grabbing a bagel from the fridge to eat at my desk. I got to work at 9 rather than 8, and the world didn't come to a screeching halt. Amazing.

Taking an extra 60 minutes out of a busy day to focus on myself is still an uneasy concept for me to wrap my arms around. But as disgustingly selfish as it sounds, it was worth every last precious second.