I’ve always been a pretty tough cookie, but there’s some stuff that happens in pregnancy that even makes me say “uhhhh, that’s not good.”
This past weekend, I was working at a street festival/crafts show drawing caricatures with my friend Tim. I’m used to Pennsylvania weather and since it’s not the dead heat of summer yet, I packed my favorite clothing; black jeans and a cardigan to cover my gigantic exposed arms.
Saturday morning was nice and brisk. Perfect jean weather. Our tent gave us the right amount of shade and I felt very comfortable and relaxed at my easel. As the hours drew on, the sun came creeping around the corner of the tent and landed square on my shoulders, and then my back, and then all of me with absolutely no escape. I kept my cardigan on. Even though I was hot, I felt like it was better to be warm than burnt.
I drank my weight in water throughout the day and made sure to talk a walk to the bathroom every 2 hours. I thought I was doing right by my baby, or at least the best I could do during an exceptionally busy drawing day in the sun. 5 o’clock rolled around and the sun was finally starting to pass behind our neighbors tent just as our customers dwindled. I stood up and immediately felt exhausted. I looked down for the first time all day…
My Feet were HUGE. I knew they could swell, but I was not prepared to see my ele-feet trunks. “Whelp, I should probably go sit in the shade with my feet up for a little,” I said to Tim in the most timid ‘I’m not worried at all’ voice I could muster. Luckily, swelling is normal in the heat and my foot size went down after I layed down for a bit.
The next day I got smart and made Tim sit in the sun and take all the customers while I sat in the shade with my feet up. Pregnancy for the win.