Surviving Friday

Sometimes, you just have to say to yourself, "Get your ass out of bed!"

Yesterday began like any Friday. I woke up feeling ready to take on the day full force. Fridays are always busy for me. If I stay in Lexington, Friday is for running errands. Otherwise, it means driving to Louisville, possibly for a doctor's appointment. It's always a long day. So when I got in the shower yesterday morning, I was shocked when I found myself doubled over on the verge of hurling. Please believe me when I say that thinking you're going to vomit in a public shower is both tragic and humbling.

After I rinsed off, I dragged my sorry, sopping self back to bed and moped for an hour. Every time I sat up, that acidic feeling crept up my esophagus once again. Finally, reality hit me. Just because I didn't feel well, the world wasn't going to stop turning for me. I had a list of places to go and things to get done, period. I glanced down at my belly with a look that said, "May I get up now?" and proceeded to get it together.

By then, my wet hair had dried while I was laying on it, so I had a lovely hairdo that looked like someone had run rubber cement through my locks, and my eyebrows weren't much better. My breakfast continued to threaten a revisit well into the afternoon, but I was feeling great just in time to get stuck in 5 o'clock traffic. (I made it through waiting for three stoplights before I reached into the back seat and grabbed a snack from one of my grocery bags.)

Pregnancy is unaccommodating. Sometimes the anxiety that comes with it is enough to make you puke, nevermind the hormones. But everyday living almost always means that no one is going to give you a pep talk to help you out of bed or run your errands. Living in a dorm means walking a half mile to the car only to find a construction worker leaning on it while he takes a smoke break. Reality is a punk.

But it's all worth it when you go home with a pack of the teeniest, tiniest white t-shirts you've ever seen just for the heck of it.