Moving Forward // Or Trying

I’m feeling pretty good today. More like my old self than I’ve felt in a long while. The past month had sort of put me in this strange mental space of just waiting and watching and worrying. And now that I’m out of those intense stages, I’m moving slowly to healing. This is usually the time I make a lot of grand plans for losing weight, gaining fitness, or shifting some other part of my life considerably as a distraction. I think it’s a defense many of us use to help push past a difficult point in life. I know I do it all the time.

So, I’m resisting. I don’t have any measurable “goals” or things I’m hoping to accomplish. But I do have three solids months (or more) when TTC just isn’t going to factor into everyday life. In a way, I’m incredibly frustrated because I feel like most of the stories I’ve read haven’t ended with such a long wait. People get pregnant immediately and can just move on. In another way, I do think I could use a break mentally and physically from this madness. And the testing might prevent another miscarriage. I’m trusting my doctor and will take it day by day.

Instead of buying pregnancy tests these next three months, I’m hoping to spend that extra cash on food to nourish my body. I haven’t cooked in well over six weeks and most of our meals were takeout or assembly when I was sick. (Talk about $$$. Ugh!) We made dinner as a family last night where I ate salad, pasta, and polenta. It sounds simple and silly, but it was a tremendous moment to not find myself dry-heaving at the smells or totally turned off at my portions. Be gone, potato chips and ginger ale! If I lose weight, great. But I mostly just need my nutrition in line again. And we need to get back to family dinners.

Instead of tracking my ovulation day by day, I’m hoping to pay attention to the other part of my body again. When I first discovered I was miscarrying, I got these crazy ideas to sign up for a half marathon (the last time I ran more than 8 miles was back in January). Now I’ve tempered that urge considerably. I would just like to get back into a consistent fitness routine now that I have energy (yay!), time, and good weather on my side. There’s a challenging 10K in June in my hometown I’d like to tackle. Beyond that, I’d like to run 4 days a week and get back with Barre online workouts. Maybe sign up for a yoga class for some mental and spiritual attention as well.

Instead of analyzing every pinch and cramp, I’m hoping to take these months slow and soak in time with Ada. I’m sad to admit that this baby-making stuff has occupied my mind to the point of retreating within myself often. And that’s not uncommon or isolated just to me, so I’m not too hard on myself. That being said, this is an opportunity to enjoy my child without fretting over age-gaps or anything else. My children, if I’m lucky to have another, will not be close in age. There’s no planning or workaround. I have no control over it anymore. It will still take some time to feel OK picking up Ada from preschool when most of the other parents have another small child or two. That’s life, I guess.

Instead of feeling down at yet another negative test, I’ll continue to chat with friends who have been where I’ve been. It’s the best kind of therapy for me right now. I’ve had so many of my emotions, thoughts, and fears validated by my friends and family who have been through similar experiences of both difficulty getting pregnant and miscarriage. It makes me feel far less alone and much more “normal” to be experiencing the full range of stuff related to this process. What was a terrible, sad situation has turned into one with some goodness. I am definitely a stronger person after all this. It doesn’t mean I’m impervious to having bad days or small breakdowns. Everyday is a new opportunity to move forward and grow.

This time, this wait is an opportunity to heal in more ways than one. I am up for the challenge. I’m treating myself with care . . . and I’m not expecting my mind or body to follow any certain path to the finish. I’m surrounding myself by people who understand and can help guide me. I’m hoping to blog little things along the way that help me, whether it’s a recipe or a workout . . . a mind-dump on my feelings or whatever else.

Happy Wednesday, friends.

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Beauty and the Bees

It's presumptuous to call myself the beauty in this situation. Anyway, I felt it was a story worth sharing. Getting up early is going OK. I don't love running in the AM and my body is protesting in various ways, but I'm getting my workouts in the books and finding the extra time in the evenings to be a huge relief.

We were traveling this weekend, so I decided to shift my long run to this morning, giving myself a blissful afternoon to . . . clean the house. I had planned to do between 10 and 12 miles, so when my alarm went off at 6AM, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and changed into the outfit I set out the night before. I downed a breakfast bar, a glass of water, and was out the door by 6:10.

Success!

Three miles in, I made a quick and rather embarrassing emergency stop at the hospital to use the bathroom. (It's the only "public" restroom in my neighborhood.) But that's another story entirely. I was going to run three 4 mile loops, stopping in-between them to gulp a bit of water I left outside our house. I ducked past security guards and headed up the road another mile where I had two choices as far as routes were concerned.

I took the second option and almost immediately after turning onto that street, I felt a frantic buzzing at the base of my pony tail. Before I could even figure out what was happening (because I was still, for all intents and purposes, sleeping) STING. A sharp . . . oh-my-god-ouch BEE STING with the furious insect still caught and trying to escape my tangled tresses.

I plucked the bee out (he felt fuzzy! a chill ran down my spine) while jumping up and down . . . side to side. I may have gone into a fetal position at one point, crying feebly in consternation. If you know me and my history with bees, you might understand why this seemingly silly situation is so d.r.a.m.a.t.i.c. Before today, I had only been stung once in my life -- and that was three years ago.

How did I evade the rite of passage for so long? I run. Far, far away. To me, bees are probably one of the most terrifying forces in our universe. They out-match me in many ways with their tiny size, ability to fly, and keen stinging super power. How am I to fight back? So, I run. And until today, I guess I thought bees couldn't sting me if I was running.

I sprinted the quarter mile home, my neck throbbing and could swear I felt a stinger still inside the point of attack. Stephen says nothing was there, but -- whatever -- I started crying. This is where even I was beginning to feel ridiculous. I am 30 years old and sobbing about a bee sting. In my defense, I was seriously out of it. Oh, and on the topic of caffeine: A bee sting is a much more natural and effective way to wake for the day than any cup of coffee could ever be.

I collected myself and decided to set out again and complete just 8 miles total. The bare minimum I needed to finish to keep up with my training plan. The entire way, I avoided flower beds and low tree branches. I went (way) around any flighted, buzzing insects, even the tamest of flies. Bumble bees went about their business and my knees would turn to jelly at the sight of them.

With the run completed, I felt strong. So, for my cooldown, I returned to the scene to meet my maimed attacker. He was gone. All that remains is this nagging, dull ache in my neck and, well, now this melodramatic account.

Honey bees can only strike once, right?

If you'd like to read some practical advice on running, check out my articles for WalkJogRun:

• Stink? How to get the smell out of your running clothes
• Don't skip your long run: Tips + tricks
• Berry purple post-workout smoothie
• Pre-workout hydration powerhouse

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