I'm going to blame the postlady . . .

OK - I love getting mail, email, packages, ect. I guess it makes me feel like I'm "connected" to the outside world. So, on Friday I was very perturbed as the kids and I were looking out the window (our new favorite activity) and we saw the postlady pass our mailbox because my car was parked an inch too close to it. I mean, I wasn't even in front of it - I guess just too close by her standards.

I thought I would go ahead and go outside to meet the postlady as she came back up the other side of the street. I could wave at the kiddos from outside - they would love it. As I making my way down the stairs (not fast, I promise!) I felt my feet come out from under me and realized I was going down. My behind hit really hard and my back soon followed and then I skidded down about 3 or 4 stairs. I was obviously upset, not really for me, but for little baby girl inside of me that I'm supposed to be doing everything to protect. I tried to take it easy for the rest of the day and really I felt OK, other than feeling the horrible bruise on my rear and back.

As everyone started getting home from work, I relayed my story and we all thought I was probably OK. I wasn't bleeding, I wasn't having contractions and I could still feel her moving around like normal. On Sat. morning, I decided that I should go ahead and call the doctor on call and just make sure that I was taking everything seriously enough.

Well, come to find out, anytime after about 20 weeks that you fall - you need to go to the hospital. Long story short, after spending all day in the hospital . . . we're both fine. Little baby girl was put through about every test they could do and she's still kicking around like crazy. Old Momma here is just really sore and I have some wicked bruises on my back.

I know that next week when I'm thinking what I'm thankful for it will be that my new little baby girl is OK and that I didn't hurt her by doing something as stupid as falling down the stairs. Everytime I go up and down now, I am holding on for dear life (not mine - but hers!)