wipe out!!!

As some of you may have noticed, I haven't had much to say this past week. I've thought about the blog, tried to think of something interesting to write, and come up short. I've been feeling pretty good, growing, exercising, eating relatively well. Still haven't felt Tater move, but I attribute that to the frontal placenta. See? Not a lot to say. (I did consider writing a post about how I was able to give some clothing advice to a woman in the dressing room at Gap on Saturday. She is fifteen weeks along and hates getting dressed in the morning. Felt good to pay it forward and to know that I'm not the only woman who loathes my closet.)

But good news! This morning the well was replenished! Here's a little story about how I ended up coming to on the floor of the elevator at 1030am.

I really like breakfast. Honest. I like it so much that I usually put off eating it until 10am. That way I can look forward to the meal for a few hours, and I don't have to wait too long before it's time to eat again. This is not a new habit born of pregnancy. It's how I've always structured my meals. Since I've been pregnant, I make a point of drinking a giant glass of water and taking my vitamins before I leave the house. Lately, I've also had a big cup of decaf coffee with a healthy dose of soy milk as well. Then breakfast at 10 (Greek yogurt, high-protein cereal, and a banana).

This morning was a little different. I wanted to get to work by 845 (yes, that's early for me) so that I could take care of a few things before heading over to the appellate courthouse to watch an oral argument at 930. (I have an argument before the same division in a week, and this was my last chance to get a feel for the panel.) So I poured my cup of coffee into a to-go mug instead of drinking it at home. Once I made it to the office, I took care of a handful of administrative tasks instead of eating breakfast. Managed to swig down a few sips of coffee before I grabbed my friend/colleague David (who is also arguing next week in front of the same division) and we headed off to the courthouse.

The argument lasted for forty-five minutes, and I sat relatively motionless, with my legs crossed, the entire time. When I stood up, I thought, "Huh. It sure is hard to breathe when you are pregnant." Didn't strike me as odd that this was the first time I'd had this thought.

Managed to survive the elevator ride down to the lobby of the courthouse. Walked outside, all the while feeling a little warm. It wasn't until we were walking across a busy four-lane street in downtown Chicago that I began to feel really light-headed. Saw a few stars. Decided that I could easily make it back to my office, so long as I kept talking to David and putting one foot in front of the other. Deep breaths.

I remember stepping into the elevator in my office building and realizing that most of my vision was obstructed by a thickening mass of stars. I pushed the button for our floor from memory, because I couldn't read the numbers on the buttons. Then I couldn't see anything, so I leaned against the wall of the elevator.

Then I woke up. I was sitting on the floor in the corner of the elevator, knees tucked to my chest, head resting on the wall. David was crouched beside me, saying my name. The two other ladies in the elevator were in a full-blown panic. And all I could think was "I am super comfortable. I should try napping in this position more often." We'd reached the floor that the ladies were supposed to get off at, and they were holding open the door, repeatedly pushing the elevator call button, asking if they should call an ambulance. And the elevator alarm was going off, making me less comfortable. I think I said something like, "I'm pregnant. I hear this happens to pregnant ladies. Please let me go to my floor. I want to go to my floor." Eventually they complied (though they did ride up with us, perhaps thinking David was not up to the challenge of keeping me alive for three more floors).

David brought me into the reception area, and we sat down in the chairs next to the front door. Before long, I was handed a glass of water and a banana. This is not a typical sight in our office, Robin sitting in the lobby eating a banana while David looks on with an expression of extreme concern. So a small crowd of loving, concerned coworkers gathered around me. And I had to admit to each of them that that no, I hadn't eaten breakfast. Oops?

Called Doc G's office and was told to take it easy and eat breakfast. Called Brad and learned that there is no way I'm making it out of the apartment for the next four months unless I've consumed a granola bar and had a glass of OJ. Told my supervisor, who has imposed the same requirements for the moments leading up to my oral argument next Wednesday (though we did discuss the value of the sympathy points I could score by passing out at the podium).

I am feeling much better, though still a little shaky and light-headed. Have decided to nix the plan to workout this evening. And I'm counting my blessings. Like:

Thank God I did not bump my head or my belly when I fell. (David says my head hit the elevator wall, but not terribly hard. And I haven't felt any residual pain in that area.)

Thank God I did not pass out in the courtroom while the justices were on the bench. (Can you imagine? One week from today: "Hi! Remember me? I'm here to wow you with my brilliant legal mind. I will do my best to stay off the floor.")

Thank God I did not pass out in the middle of the street in downtown Chicago. (Decent odds that I would have been struck by a cab and/or ended up on the evening news.)

Thank God I choose to wear very opaque leggings with my dress when I was getting dressed this morning.

And thank God that I work in an office where people are more important than billable hours. It's so nice to feel safe and loved at work.