Yes. Glamerous, I know. I've always been clumsy and now I've got the face to match.
Even as I was putting on those very cute, very impractical knee high boots, I thought better of it, but in the end Fashion won over Function and ended in 6 stitches.
Jess said when I hobbled into the house he thought I had surely been in a car wreck for all the blood. Which is still frozen, bright red in a trail leading to my front door.
Jess was great, he jumped up threw me a cloth, belted out orders, "Pressure! Hospital! now!" The drive was fast and painful with a lot of family singing.
Singing. That's has always been my keep calm strategy. During child birth some women, do Lamaze, or meditate. . . I belt out the primary songs. The lovely pitch and volume, naturally vary according to pain levels. Jess dutifully holds my hand and unbashfully sings along. The doctors and nursing staff politely go about business as though a woman crooning away during transistion is super normal.
"I looked out the window and what did I see..." "Awhhh!" 2 big breaths and "Popcorn, popping on the apricot tree."