The "Incident": Alone on the Cold, Bare Floor

We are in the golden trimester. Morning sickness is over. Initial hormonal changes are over. I’m big enough to enjoy being pregnant and all the resulting attention, yet not so big to be completely immobile and uncomfortable. Ah, living life like it’s golden.

And busy. Golden, but busy. Immediately after returning from our spring break trip to DC, we moved. Although I love the house we’re in, I will miss the area we were in. Great school district. Minutes from shopping areas. Hop, skip, and jump from downtown. Affordable rent. Everything I need, except for space. That’s what this house gives us. More space. Four kids running around a townhouse with 2 kids per bedroom is not working anymore.

So I leave my beloved Roswell for lands farther west.

That puts a tremendous strain on my schedule. I’m shuttling the kids 30 minutes away to school each morning. Heading to the office for a few hours of work, then back to the school to pick them up. There’s an hour difference between dismissal of my elementary kid and my middle schooler. Some days we go to the park or the library, but for the most part we get to the carpool early and wait. We finally get home at 5 each night barring an errands I need to make. Summer is coming and this is Georgia. It’s already 90 degrees and I’m in my car a minimum of 3 hours every day.

That’s a lot. Even for a golden girl.

At about midnight, I took a shower to decompress from my week. I’m notorious for ultra-long, piping hot showers. 15 minutes minimum. This has been quite a week so I must’ve been in there 20. After getting dressed, I sat up in the bed enjoying the silence of the house. Before I know it, the room begins to spin. The room is as hot as an inferno. My breath gets shorter and faster. I’m not sure what’s happening to me. I need to lie down. Oh no, lying down makes it worse. Fresh air. I need cool, fresh air. I had been sleeping downstairs because it’s cooler down there. I’ll go sit on the couch. I stagger down the hallway barely able to see where I’m going. “Somebody help me.” I whisper under my breath.

If I can just make it outside…

I miraculously make it to the bottom of the stairs. But before I can put my hand on the doorknob, the room goes black. I feel my body slide down then hit the floor with a THUD. Not on my stomach, on my hip. This is how it ends. The children are asleep. My husband is at work. There’s no one to help me. I open my eyes and try to get up. My knees are weak and my legs give. I’m out again.

​This time I awaken up to the feeling of cold, bare hardwood floor on my cheek. I resign to stay there until my body has had a full chance to regroup. Slow deep breaths. Take your time. Enjoy the cool sensation on your face. Once I was ready, I grabbed some coconut water. I’ve heard it’s like a natural Gatorade: hydrating, energy, and electrolytes.

My body simply overheated. Embarrassed and scared, I sat there on the couch trying to figure out how to explain this to Melissa. Would she be upset at me for pushing myself too hard or understanding of a mom’s hectic lifestyle? The next morning I called the doctor and she told me to come in right away. Their 2 main concerns were making sure I didn’t fall on my stomach (injuring the babies) or my head (giving myself a concussion). At the appointment, the midwife grilled me about every aspect of my life from my daily routine to the level of stress and anxiety I experience. Look lady, I’m not depressed. I just got hot. Babies’ hearts are beating strongly and I feel fine. I was ordered to reduce my stress, take shorter, cooler showers (duh), and keep a water bottle on me at all times.

I finally got around to calling Melissa. She didn’t answer. Whew! I left a message and rehearsed my story as I waited for a return call. Right in the middle of lunch, RING! RING! There it is...

“Hey. I don’t want you to worry. But last night I was tired. I took a long shower. Stayed in there like 20 minutes. When I got out, I didn’t feel well…”

‘You passed out, didn’t you?’ She didn’t even let me finish.

“Yes. Twice.”

‘You overheated. That’s all. It’s happened to me too. I stayed in the shower too long washing my hair, fell, and hit my head.’

Yet another thing we have in common. From that moment, we just refer to it as “The incident”.