I feel yesterday. Don't worry, the baby is fine. Me? I'm a big pile of whine!
Here's what happened. I was walking out of the commissary. I put away my cart, picked up my three bags and started towards the car, thinking about how heavy the bags were and why did they have to put all the heavy stuff together? My foot missed the curb. I stepped into nothingness, a void that was 5 inches lower, and just... fell.
It was probably a beautiful sight to behold. This pregnant lady, dressed all nice and teeth shiny from her dentist appointment, falling gracefully to the ground. Bags flew, body crumbled, and I was on the ground. Lucky for me, a couple nice ladies were walking up right as I fell, and they helped me stand and picked up my stuff for me.
First thought: Crap, I hope the Coke isn't too shaken up. Second thought: I hope I didn't break any eggs! I voiced my concern over the groceries to the ladies in a shaky joking voice, told them I'm fine, and limped off to the car. Then I cried the whole way home.
Here's the damage: Broken left flip-flop (eh, they were old anyway), scraped left knee and left ankle (where I landed), and a sprained right foot (the foot I stepped off the curb with). Nothing else... but ouch! My foot is killing me!
Brandon came home quickly, hugged me while I cried my big pregnant lady tears, and sat me on the couch. He iced my feet, got my computer, phone and water, placed the remotes, and had to head back to work.
I felt off for the rest of the day! I was worried for only a bit about the baby, but since I didn't land on my belly, it seemed fine. And she's been dancing since then, so no worries. The damage is all Chantal.
My right foot is messed up. It's sprained, I think, but not my ankle... more like on the edge. It's hard to explain. I'm limping everywhere, and when Brandon notices, he yells at me to get back on the couch. He's a good guy! Taking care of me, making my oatmeal, making dinner... letting me be lazy.
Moral of the story? Watch where you're walking! Those curbs are killer!