Emergency Measures. 

So, yesterday was a family wedding, and a full day out for me. Which was terrifying, absolutely terrifying. I’ve been bed bound a lot recently. It seems pregnancy and my conditions are not mixing well, so the thought of a day, and night, upright and moving had me panicked. 

In the run up to the event I was stressed, jittery, and having sleepless nights. I tried to rest up more, in preparation, but the nerves just made me more tired than ever. Things were already not going to plan. 

On the day I stayed in bed as late as was possible, then set about getting ready. I did my daughters hair (hurting my hands). I did my hair (putting my body in a stress position I’m supposed to avoid). I wore makeup (which makes my skin and eyes sore and my nose stuffy). I wore nice clothes, and even heals (ouch, just ouch). 

We had a plan in place. A small amount of coca cola to get me going in the morning. Bottles of water in the car. Pain killers in my purse. It would be ok. Except I was so flustered by the time we left, I forgot everything except the coke (which I’d already had). 

I made it through the morning ok. There was lots of standing, but by shifting my weight and fidgeting, I managed to be ok. I could have sat out of the way. But there was a lot of people I didn’t really know and didn’t want to seem rude. 

After the wedding, came photographs and the meal. It was this point that I came undone. There was a wait in between. Though I remained mainly seated, my body just couldn’t seem to take it. I forgot how much effort just conversing with people takes. As I felt myself deteriorating, I hoped the meal would perk me up. 

But alas, though it was delicious, it didn’t make me feel any better. I mentioned to my husband I should lie down in the car, but he didn’t want me crossing the busy road, and besides, we would be going soon. I took deep breaths. My heart rate crept up. Soon after, it happened. Tears stung my eyes and the world began to shift. If I stayed there, I was going down. 

So I took emergency measures. I hightailed it out of there, and to the furthest (least frequented) toilets. Luckily the movement kept my blood pumping just enough to take me there. Locked in a cubicle, I laid on the toilet floor. The cold tiles against my back, my feet on the hastily dropped seat, my hair no doubt poking under the door. And breathe… 



It took seconds for my heart rate to drop. I’m lucky in that way. But, my god, it feels horrible when your body is righting itself and your heart rate is plummeting. Often I think that preventing collapse feels worse than actually having one. Because you never quite get the release. You’re just left feeling like you’ve been run over by a freight train. 

As I laid there, on the floor, I thought to myself This, this is my life. Hiding out in toilets just to get through what for everyone else is a relaxing fun day. But you know what? It’s ok. Because guess what I did next? I got up. Brushed myself off, and carried on with the day. 

I even managed a dance with my little girl, for which I’d lie on the floor any day of the week.