Bad Day at Black Rock

Today was one of those days. We had to get up at 6:30am because we had a hospital tour at 9:30 and given that the hospital is at 165th Street and Broadway I was going to need some time to get up there by cab. We go to get on the 7:24 train and of course it's like bedlam and so the Husband and I couldn't sit together. Did I mention it was raining? It was raining. I'm sitting in the train seat for the next hour wedged between two people and of course I start to get the excruiciating pregnancy back pain and because it's cold and rainy outside the train is heated (which normally would be a good thing) but because it was so packed full of sweaty humanity the train car seemed to have its own weather system and was about the same temperature as the inside of a rice cooker.

Then we get to Penn Station. Seemed fine, a little crowded, but it held no indication of the fact that there were hurricane force gale winds hurtling about outside of Penn Station. We went outside so I could be put in a cab up town and went to the end of the cab line (which stretched about half a block long) and proceeded to be pounded and pummeled by a driving rain/wind combination. People's umbrellas were turning inside out left and right and on more than one occasion I almost had my rain hat blown off my noggin. Rain was getting *inside* of my wellies-- do my wellies have a leak you ask? No-- rain was coming in from the top of them (you know, where you stick your foot into!) Rain coat? Soaked. Skirt? Soaked. Tights? Soaked? Underwear? Damp-- after all, the rain did have to penetrate 4 layers to get there. Finally, I managed to snag a cab (after I had to yell at (x) one woman in front of us that she needed to *walk down* to get into the next available cab, not just stand there like a stone image until the cab drove up to her and (y) one man who decided that lines weren't for him and he would just cut in front of the 75 people waiting for a cab.)

Hospital Tour. (This is where I discovered that, no, I wasn't just cold, all of my clothing was actually wet). Tour went fine, but for the fact that Columbia "lost" my pre-registraion application and they can make no guarantees about getting a private room. Okay, fine, you may say, but what if you want to "room-in" with your baby? Well, that's encouraged. So long as you have a private room. If you don't have a private room you can't room-in with your baby but you will be able to room in with some stranger and their family. Your baby, on the other hand, will get sent to the 6th floor. But no worries, because Columbia is kind enough to put a big security tag on your baby (as if your child were something you might try to purchase at a Best Buy) and "alarms" will go off if anyone tries to take your baby off of the floor. Then, however, I got to see a baby being wheeled out of the 6th floor as we opened the door with my escort's security pass-- the nurse involved then said: "I have to move quickly, before the alarms go off." Not so confidence inspiring.

Fine, fine, fine. I go to leave, back out into the monsoon, and as I'm standing on Broadway I manage to hail a cab just as my umbrella flips inside out. I open the cab door and am trying to close my inside out umbrella and a big gust of wind comes and slams me in the side of my big pregnant belly. Yeah, that's great. Love when things like that happen. Get into the cab and then suddenly feel really, really nauseous. I'm sure a big part of that was the fact that I was in a cab for 110 blocks back to the office (with windows rolled up because of the hurricane) and I'm sure it was psychosematic as well, but regardless... not feeling well. Had a good pep talk from the Mom and arrived back at the office. End up calling the doctor's office and they had me come in for an ultrasound-- everything checked out (as Thisbe had expected!), but of course, on my way to the ultrasound I realized that I had forgotten to change back into my wellies and I was wearing the infamous pepsi-soaked ballet flats which were then letting in water from the wet sidewalks of New York.

Did I mention at lunch time I managed to drop macaroni and cheese on my boob? It rolled off, but still. That of course, was after I knocked over my glass of ice water all over my desk (all that great crushed ice, GONE!). Glad it's not like I had anything important sitting out there... Then, after the ultrasound, while I was in line to pay (for a self-pity cookie and iced tea) at Au Bon Pain I knocked over my second cup of ice all on to the cashier station. I appear to be some sort of a danger to both myself and others. I rue what the commute home may bring.