I've always struggled with the concept of thinking through consequences as well as the idea of "pacing myself." As a pregnant lady, I've taken that to a whole new level. I do things that are just plain dumb and then 10 seconds later wonder what in the world I was thinking. Usually, this thought occurs just after I've collapsed in a heap on the couch wondering if I'll ever be able to move again.
Yesterday, it started out simple enough (it always does!). I went out to water the palm trees in our front yard. Why we even bother to water them instead of letting them die to match the desolate landscape is a whole different story. Anyway, I watered the first two and moved on to the third. Except, the third was so surrounded by weeds and these daisy weed things and a mysterious ice plant and various other things that I could barely see the palm tree. It seemed perfectly logical for me to strap on some gloves and start doing some yard work right that very second.
My thinking... "what's the worst that can happen? I go into labor... not so bad at all!" And so Stella and I descended on the yard and did not stop for a good two hours, and only then because I ran out of trashcans (after shoving the mass of weeds down over and over and over. I don't think trash cans have ever held such compact weeds).
It turns out that the worst that can happen is not going into labor but taxing every muscle between my shoulders and knees, seriously damaging some ligaments in my pelvis and thinking I'm going to die as I tried to simply roll over in bed. I'll be attending my sister's graduation today with much discomfort, taking the pregnant lady waddle to a whole new level. And, furthermore, not in labor.
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