Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Sitting, Waiting

While pregnant, both times, I kept myself fairly active. Busy. The first go-round I ran for a while, then kept it all yoga, all the time. The second time I ran for nearly 7 months. I ran in races--heck, it's possible I was pregnant when I ran the marathon back in May. My swan song was the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving. The calendar turned to December, and the weather clicked into winter.

I wasn't going to risk falling, so I, um, abandoned all exercise. For nearly 2 months.

I settled in to a daily routine of sitting on the couch. It wasn't the most cardiovascularly challenging routine, but HEY! I was pregnant. Give a sista a break.

And now I'm not. And still, here I sit.

I've been thinking a lot about the past two-and-a-half or so years. When I finally got pregnant the first time, I waited and waited for E to arrive--actually, I waited longer than I thought I would. He was 10 days late. Small potatoes, I now realize.

Shortly after E's arrival, I began training for a marathon. And nursed. And waited for the spring to run said marathon and then--hopefully--be pregnant again. Lo and behold, the plan happened. And from the spring through the fall and winter, I waited some more for our second baby to arrive.

That didn't turn out quite how we'd planned. We ended up waiting and waiting for things we never wanted to wait for.

And now I'm not. And still, here I sit.

It's been a long time since I was a girl without something happening. I hadn't planned on being here for another year or so. But here I am, still waiting. All I can do is wait, remember, think. I started Calla's baby book this summer. I'm waiting to be ready to get it out and finish it. That's kind of irrelevant to how I'm feeling right now, I know. I feel like my whole life is up in the air. The job I thought I'd have another year to put on hold--they're going to come calling soon.

Grumble. Sigh.

And on another note, it's a hard pill to swallow to know our baby girl would have been born, perfectly normal and healthy, if this hadn't happened. Forehead, meet the wall.


  1. Yes, it's the frightening silence that comes when all the plans go to shit.

  2. Forehead, meet the wall. Very descriptive. Yup.
    Thinking of you.