The Pregnancy Games: Catching Fire

Posted on Monday, February 24th, 2014 at 2:53 pm

coverWell…the pregnancy is progressing well. The baby is kicking and all check ups indicate things are quite perfect. Except for one minor little issue. I am extremely accident prone these days. More so than with my previous pregnancies. Maybe this is because of my A.M.A. (Advanced Maternal Age), as my medical file is now flagged since I am over the age of 35.

I have lost count of all the klutzy things I have done over and over again. Being sleepy all the time doesn’t help, either. I’ve dropped things, knocked things over, inadvertently bonked my kids in the head with my elbow, walked behind Rose only to send her sprawling across the floor because her head is now at the perfect height and apparently she can’t keep her balance when the belly bumps the back of her head, hit my baby bump with the car door as I was getting out, driven over a planter in a parking lot, tripped, scraped my hands and/or arm due to an inability to calculate correct distance from sharp objects, cut myself, and most recently….set myself on fire.

A couple of weeks ago (yes, that is how long it has taken me to get around to blogging!) I woke up as groggy as always, and put on my nice, warm, thick cotton spa robe and waddled over to the kitchen to make breakfast. I turned the fire up on my scrambled eggs in the pan, and suddenly heard a crackling sound. The oversized sleeve of my robe had caught fire! I slapped at it, it was after all only embers with a small flame at that point. Whew! Tragedy averted. I continued cooking but then heard another ominous crackling sound. I looked down at my sleeve, burned but not on fire anymore. Where was the sound coming from?? I lifted my arm up and looked at my side. That little flame from my sleeve had run up my arm and to my side even before I had stamped out its point of genesis on the sleeve. I was officially on fire. There were actual flames coming from me.

I gasped and without thinking, breathlessly squeaked aloud, “Stop! Drop! Roll!!! Stop! Drop! Roll!!!” I threw myself down on the floor and rolled around. Thank you, 1980’s PSA announcements.

The girls, seeing me disappear from behind the counter, came running to see what in the world I was doing. How can a 7+ month pregnant woman manage to roll around on the ground? Well, my friends, when you are on fire, you just do it!


The charred remains of my robe.

Thank God that the rolling put the rest of the fire out. I couldn’t see how far on me the flames were, for all I knew they were all the way across my back. But when I took the robe off (I don’t know why I didn’t think to take it off right away instead of rolling on the ground), it was clear that the flames really were only on my side and had gone no further before I rolled to stop them.

Fortunately, the robe was very thick and I could not even feel the heat and so I was not at all injured. I shudder to think what could have happened. It could have been one of those totally freak accidents. What would the headline be? Think of it…

“Pregnant Mother Sets Herself on Fire and Perishes While her Other Children Look On!”

My kids would have been forever traumatized. Or the whole house would’ve caught fire and we would have all perished together. Thank God I am not very flammable and neither was that robe! To whoever in Heaven was praying for me that day, THANK YOU!

So please, pray for me to make it through this pregnancy without killing myself or someone else. And if you laughed and thought it was funny that I set myself on fire, I forgive you. In retrospect, it really is funny. But only because I am ok.


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