32 weeks pregnant: if it ain’t broke, break it

by Angela on June 7, 2013 · 6 comments

Really, Universe? A broken foot? Really?

The Sunday evening began innocuously enough. The final Lion King curtain in Nashville came down, and I found myself in a melancholy state, dreading having to part ways with Mike the next day as Max and I would fly to Pennsylvania to spend the rest of my pregnancy with my in-laws, and Mike would drive to Tulsa to continue with The Lion King.

All day, I dragged my feet packing for our respective journeys. We had tried our best to lay plans for Baby Girl’s arrival, but the nature of tour life as well as the timing of the universe worked against making foolproof plans to be together for her birth. Mike’s next five weeks in Tulsa would be extremely intensive, laden with rehearsals as the cast would be gearing up for some major turnover; his requests for a long paternity leave were discouraged, so we agreed that we’d have to be flexible. Max was born at 32 weeks; even though my most recent prenatal checkup was solid and issue-less, we still had to be ready for a potential premature delivery — thus my need to be in one place for the last 8 weeks.

We met our dear friend Mark Kaplan (who plays Zazu) at The Southern for a final meal in Music City. I felt morose, because Mark was leaving the cast at the end of the Tulsa run, so it was the last time I’d see him for a long while. Can you see my despondency? More importantly, can you see Mark’s chest hair?

I tried to cheer up, with a delicious chocolate cake to help me through.

Max and I said a doleful goodbye to Mark outside the restaurant, and drove back to our apartment complex. That’s when it happened. Mike and Max were a few feet in front of me walking from the car to our place, the low glare of cloud cover lightly illuminating the darkened parking lot, when I misjudged an irregular step down in the sidewalk and my ankle gave way. I caught myself from biting it face first to the cement, but in doing so really jerked and twisted my right foot. I felt a sharp pain, then a dull throb. I tried pulling myself up, but couldn’t without wincing as fiery sparks shot across my foot.

We called Mark to bring me to the hospital, and we even enlisted a random guy walking his dog to help carry me to the car. Mike stayed with Max at home, and continued to pack all our belongings. Our good friend Theresa (dancer in The Lion King) came over to keep Mike sane and help with the packing. The time? 11:30 pm.

Here is Mark, running into the ER reception at Vanderbilt Medical Center to find me a wheelchair.

The waiting room was full of late-night characters, and it was about 1 am once I got seen. Because there were also trauma patients coming in who got priority on rooms, I was seen in the hallway, on a gurney. Check out that nasty-looking foot!

Mark was my angel and ice-holder all night. Despite the fact that he was to drive the 9 hours to Tulsa the next day, he stayed on point and upbeat. He was amazing. I joked with him, “See, I didn’t want to say goodbye earlier. This was my ploy for us to hang out more tonight.”

I was wheeled into the Radiology Room where I got X-rayed. A lead apron covered my gonads and Baby Girl.

The verdict? A small fracture in my fifth metatarsal.

No cast required — just a stabilizing shoe or boot. I opted for the boot plus crutches. And the kicker (pun intended): because of my pregnant state, I couldn’t take any strong painkillers. The doctor said it may take up to 6 weeks to heal. The current time? 3 am.

In my exhausted and incredulous mind, I had already given up on plane travel the next day with Max by myself — I mean, how was I supposed to gimp around with a 32-week belly on the crutches AND push a toddler around in his stroller, as well as handle our multiple bags and luggage? I figured Mike would have to take some days off work to drive us to Pennsylvania and accompany us personally to my in-laws. Or maybe we’d just head to Tulsa with Mike so he could take care of us. I just didn’t want to be without Mike.

My sister Eileen, as always, talked sense into me with her pointed practicality. “Ang, you just have to try going on the plane. Two hours on a plane is way better than 11 hours in a car! Just do it.” Point taken. So I did it. After about 3 hours of sleep, I got up to make the journey with Max.

We got wheelchairs, skycaps, electric carts, and a security pass for Mike to escort us all the way to the gate…

Luckily, Max was well-behaved for the 2 hour flight. My foot throbbed a bit less each hour. We did it.

My father-in-law got the same security pass to meet Max and I at the arrival gate in Philly, and now Max and I are snug and settled in his grandparents’ rustic house in the countryside near Hershey, Pennsylvania. Another post on this gorgeous area and home will be coming along shortly!

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{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }

steve June 7, 2013 at 10:09 am

we are feeling for you! what a crazy adventure before a big trip amongst your many adventures all year! take care and heal well, steve


MM June 7, 2013 at 12:03 pm

Hi Hollicks,

I love how you still managed to sneak a food photo into this story! Hahaha! Angela, you are a Warrior Woman and this is just a drop in the bucket to your capabilities as a mom, wife and woman 🙂


Janeen June 7, 2013 at 12:12 pm

Many people don’t get what mothers have to do daily (without complaining) and your story is so near and dear to my heart, as I’ve had to care for an infant while enduring some major health issues. Kudos to you for marching ahead and dealing with life’s lemons. I love hearing your stories and look forward to the birth of Baby Girl.


ANGELIQUE June 7, 2013 at 3:40 pm



Ana June 7, 2013 at 6:07 pm


I so enjoyed reading your recap of your last evening with Mike, I’m sorry it ended with a broken foot but I think that was the universe giving you something other than your sadness at leaving Mike and parting with your good friend. Now you and Max are with family, hopefully you’re being pampered and Mike can rest easy knowing that you are all in good hands. I hope I get to see you when next you are in New York. I love keeping up with you guys and sharing your journeys. Be well, always with great affection,



Micole September 1, 2014 at 1:56 pm

Hey! I’m glad you shared your story. I am 33 weeks
Pregnant and broke my foot (2 metatarsal fracture) a few days ago.
My biggest worry is delivering/ caring for a newborn w a cast and foot pain.
It’s my second child and I terrified of having to hop on crutches with post labor pain. Can you tell me how long it took your foot to heal? Or at least how long until you got the cast / boot off and were able to at least walk in it a bit?

Again, thanks for sharing your story.


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