Dear equilibrium...you, me and gravity need to have a serious talk....

Alright, I was not deluded enough to believe that adding an additional 20odd pounds to the front of my body over the course of 40 short weeks wouldn't have side effects. In fact I was quite sure that at some point, the whole balance thing would become a problem. Balance and I have never been friends, so I didn't think we were about to start having slumber parties. However I did believe it would take longer for balance to mess with my baby.

Of course, my first experience with this issue happened at only around 17 weeks, when I fell from grace with the loudest thud yet, and sprained my ankle. But that is old news, and something I got over. I've never been graceful, so what did I expect? Well I expected to be able to put my shoes on, I'll tell you that.

Throughout my entire life, I've been prone to fall down. When I was younger, I fell so many times that I permanently killed the pigment in my knee, and still have a scar. My legs moved so much faster than my feet or body, that I knocked not one but BOTH of my two front teeth out, on separate occasions. Once was a bloody mess at the ferry terminal where I ran to meet my dad and fell flat on my face. A normal kid puts her hands out and at least TRIES not to mangle her face. I did not. People say "well at least you didn't break your wrists". Sure I didn't, just my tooth. 

The second time was a slow and simple walk on the pier with my grandparents, where I tripped on my own feet and flew forward, landing again flat on my face. Only this time, I added a new level, and sunk my tooth into the wood of the pier (I should say teeth, I'm pretty sure I didn't yet have a replacement tooth for the one lost at the ferry). I stood up and left my tooth behind. It's a wonder I'm not hideously scarred on my face. 

But I digress. 

The point is, I've spent my entire life falling down. And to be honest, I come by it honestly because my mother and sister aren't a whole lot better at staying upright. 

I've often blamed the fact that I stand 5' 11" with only size 7.5 feet, but I'm not sure that's the issue. When I was a teenager, all tall and thin, with knobby knees and gangly limbs, I simply assumed the falling was just another part of the torture which is your teens, but then I never grew out of it. At the end of the day, I think me and my equilibrium have just had issues my entire life, which we've never managed to settled. I'm the girl who trips on the sidewalk when there is nothing there, the one who has rolled her right ankle not 1 but 4 major times in her life, and the person who can be knocked over with the slightest of nudges. Did I mention I've had crutches only once in my life, and the first thing I did was fall flat on my face in the hospital parking lot and need further medical attention? 

Fast forward to my Relaxin hormone filled pregnant body, and cleary we have a problem. 

So back to my point. At 22 weeks along, I've started noticing an alarming new trend in my daily routine - I fall down. I fall down doing the simple things even I'd learned to take for granted. From crouching down to pick something off the floor, to leaning over in an attempt to pull my shoe on without bending at the waist, I fall over. 

The good news is, these aren't the loud, painful, disastrous falls of my past, but little gentle thumps to the ground. The bad news is, I fear this is only the beginning. I did not realize the getting pregnant meant losing your ability to perform the most basic tasks - and so early. I can't image convincing my husband that he is now responsible for the on's and off's of my shoes. Not to mention we're not always together. Additionally, there are sometimes just things on the floor which I need to pick up. Socks, dog toys, my sanity, and if I can't bend down to get them without joining them on the floor, what's the point? I'm going to need to get one of those things people use to pick up garbage so I can stay upright. 

All I can say is that I hope I regain my sense of balance, and even gain a little extra after Baby Girl get's here. Because honestly, my arms are not safe for a small, fragile and dependent person. I'm sure I've dropped the dog on a number of occasions, but at least he's built like 12 lbs. of bricks. 

What I REALLY hope, is that this Baby Girl gets my nose and ears, but her fathers ability to walk and stand up. Unfortunately, this klutzy thing seems a pretty dominant trait for the women in my family, so it's already not looking good. 

Not to mention hat her most prominent in utero memory is going to be a strange falling sensation, culminating with a loud thud and her mama yelling FAWK!