Proof of Baby, for Baby

It was in reading Lisa Jhung's "Baby Steps" blog that I decided a few things:

1) I wanted to have a baby.
2) I wanted to be pregnant runner.
3) I, too, could blog about the experience.

Let's note here, however, that I certainly do not plan on writing to as large an audience as Lisa does. Still as the days and weeks progress I know it will be nice to have all of my thoughts and experiences consolidated in one, easy-to-access space, for me to save to a file and pull up some day for our child to read. Not so much as to say, "Look, THIS is what you put me through," (although I could use that when the kid needs to be guilted into doing something) as it will be to show our child that his or her life and presence was evident far before he or she would develop any sense of awareness or memory.

This weekend I complained to several people of the sleep I found myself suddenly losing. As my extreme fatigue and odd food aversions went away (except for greenbeans. I'll eat the fancy herot coverts, but not the thick-cut greenbeans.) I thought I'd be in the clear from the worst of the pregnancy symptoms, momentarily forgetting that I have six more months of this to go. Nope, there's still heartburn, my daily 4:00 AM bathroom trip, and most recently, recurring bouts of Restless Leg Syndrome. Of the three, the latter is definitely the worst. My doctor suspected I had it a while ago and prescribed me ambien (RLS was the least of my worries at the time, however, as I was nannying for crazypsychobitch), which I conveniently can no longer take.

So on Saturday at five in the morning I started researching my options to get my sleep schedule back on track - oddly enough my favorite blogger was having sleep issues as well - and discovered that the answer was so simple that of course I never would have thought of it.
I have to suck it up and deal!

Surprise surprise, it's all part of the package. Much like the frequent urination, exhaustion, the headaches, the weeks of wanting to eat only cold cereal with milk and nothing else, and now the heartburn and RLS... guess what? There's no quick fix. No magic pill or potion. No amount of begging or pleading. But you know what? I wouldn't trade it for the world. Not even for a speed workout or 14-mile run. Not for sleep, comfort, or any amount of feeling "normal" again. This IS normal now.

let's be honest here

There used to be this thing called running. I used to do it. I also used to have lots of energy, or at least not get nearly as tired. It was not uncommon for a day to include 4 hours of classes, a quick cleaning of the house, a 6-7 mile tempo run, and then dinner shift at work. Falling asleep at the end of the day wasn't difficult at all, but if invited out for a little while after work, I'd muster up the energy for that too.

That was then, and this is now.

I'm starting to understand why when you share with other women, particularly those who are already mothers, that you're pregnant, all you hear are the horror storries. We all know there is a precious, miraculous, happy ending to the whole journey, we get that part. But now they want to make sure that future moms-to-be understand it's not all baby dolls and tonka trucks, either. I feel like I could easily become one of those women.

For starters, there's the running. Or the opposite of. I am getting out for 3 mile stints a few times a week, but mustering up the motivation to go out there alone, uncomfortably bloated (belly picks to come very soon) and boobs bouncing painfully about, is difficult to say the least. When the first few steps sound like, "Ow. Ow. Fuck. Ow," it's hard to drag myself out the door day after day for the same joyful experience. Sometimes I can drag the dogs or the husband along for company. Without company, I don't think I'd be doing anything.

The days I don't make it out go somethings like this:

Wake up at 4:30 to pee. Try to go back to sleep but am unable to for at least 2 hours. Spend those 2 hours watching the early early news, then roll back into bed around 6:30 or 7. Sleep like a rock until 11. Eat a breakfast* way too large and far too late to digest it in time to run before work. Take the dogs for a 20-minute walk instead. Watch reruns of Anthony Bourdain and What Not to Wear, eat a substantial lunch**, then go to work. Get through 4 hours of the shift then start begging to be cut. Already starving (again), developing a headache, and my jeans are starting to carve their stitches into my hips. Wind up getting a table that camps out until 9:50 anyway. I'm finally dragging my feet to my car by 10:30. So starving now I might puke just to reingest my own stomach. Get home, devour some food my husband has hopefully prepared or brought home, followed with a bowl of ice cream, and finally collapse in bed by 11:15.

For my friend who doesn't believe I actually eat:
*Breakfast: 1 Panera cinnamon crunch bagel w/ hazelnut cream cheese, 1 cheese danish, and 1/2 a cinnamon roll. (NOT almonds and lemon rind)
**Lunch: A sandwich usually consisting of some meat, cheese, maybe something healthy like a slice of tomato or leaf of lettuce. And chips. Or Cheez-its. Sometimes both. (NOT tree bark and alfalfa sprouts)

Anyway, there was a point to all my bitching. Maybe not. I just hope to get some energy back soon to return to some sense of normalcy.