oof, ow, whimper

I really thought that since I’ve been feeling so horrible lately that I would be spared that whole last-minute “nesting frenzy” that you hear about pregnant women going through. HA! Apparently not.

Since I haven’t been up for shopping, I ordered one of those glider rocking chairs online(thank you, target.com! And thanks to my parents for the gift card that bought it!). It was delivered to the house in a big box, and Dave put it together for me, which was great and lovely and sweet of him. But then yesterday morning I started looking around our living room thinking about how that one chair made the whole room look off-balanced. So I was thinking, “well, if I move this bookcase over to that wall instead, and that big ol’ trunk really needs to go back in the bay window [we had moved it to make room for the Christmas tree], and then I can move this stuff over here, blah blah…”

You see where this is going, right? 

Basically, an hour or so later, Dave wandered in the room and was totally shocked. He was like “what the hell have you been doing? You shouldn’t be moving heavy stuff!” I told him that I figured the worst-case scenario from me moving a bookcase would be that it might make me go into labor, and at this point? Bring. It. On. He just shook his head and left the room, and I finished tidying up.

A couple of hours later, I figured out that, actually, the worst-case scenario is not going into labor, it’s just being in horrible, excruciating pain. I don’t know what I did to my back, but it’s now been an entire day and I’m still waddling around the house like some sort of hugely pregnant invalid. (Sex-ay!)

And I’m having some weird pain on the left side of my stomach – I know it’s not a contraction because the pain is constant, and contractions are supposed to happen in waves. I think I just pulled an abdominal muscle. Which was really brilliant on my part. Since, you know, I’m not going to be needing my ab muscles for anything important in the next, oh, nine days or so.

I am so, so stupid. And I’m also incredibly grateful for that huge econo-size bottle of Tylenol in my medicine cabinet. Because, in case this wasn’t already crystal clear? OUCH.

2 thoughts on “oof, ow, whimper

  1. What’s really funny is that I told my mom about all of this, and after we got off the phone, she repeated it to my dad. He just shook his head and said, “Sounds like something you would’ve done.” So, see? Apparently it’s genetic.

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