At 35 weeks pregnant, with the baby the size of a honeydew melon, I truly feel as though I am in the home stretch. This pregnancy was different from my first in a number of ways. Most of the “you’ll see” advice about second pregnancies feeling less monumental I received turned out to relatively valid; I felt, and continue to feel, more excited about the baby at the end of this journey rather than my changing body. However, this experience has been punctuated by moments of grounding myself in and truly appreciating the fascinating process of growing a human life. Despite the aches, pains, and exhaustion, I find myself quite proud of my changing body, the work it has undertaken to sustain me and the growing baby.
I started out this pregnancy with the intention of remaining as active as possible, and I am glad that I maintained this norm throughout. During the first trimester, running felt almost unchanged; I adjusted now and then for energy levels and bathroom breaks, but remained relatively steadfast in my daily miles. During the second trimester, I continued to run, but started to incorporate walking and hiking much more intentionally. My hips and pelvis were starting to widen; and as my organs shifted around, I found that running lost some of its comfort. When I began to face diminishing returns on those feelings of freedom and euphoria during a run, I knew it was time to slow down and taper off. By the beginning of the third trimester, I was ready for a hiatus from pounding the pavement. Almost organically, and perhaps in exchange for scaling back my running, I experienced a second wind in my mental focus. By writing every day during the months of November and December, I was able to complete a full draft of my dissertation by the year’s end. I continue to walk at least 5 miles a day (more on the weekends), which has been an amazing gift to my health, fitness, and mental stability. I have found other ways to encounter the joy and connection with nature that sustain my resilience. Last week, I ended the year by walking a trail half marathon. For me, this experience reaffirmed that my body and brain are strong and capable, and that the return to running is out there, waiting.
My midwives have provided encouragement and listening ears through my seasons of active pregnancy. They understood that my temporary disengagement with running is, at times, bittersweet. I ache to run, deep in my bones. I see other runners and I want to spring forward and join them. This is a time of recognizing that absence does make the heart grow fonder. Perhaps some of the most affirming words during this time, came from one of my midwives who encouraged me to visualize my life after birth. “Just think,” she said, “after your body heals from the birth and you creep out of that newborn fog, there will be buds and blossoms on the trees. The days will be longer. The birds will be chirping. And you will be running again… what a wonderful time to start.”
I straddle the present and the future. As I continue my daily walks in the woods, through the dreary January rains, I focus on the beauty of nature surrounding me. I feel a connection to this cycle of nature, of turning inward and hibernating, of doing the invisible work, underground, only to emerge in several weeks’ time with a fertile openness. And in quiet moments, especially in the dark hours of the early morning when I am inexplicably unable to sleep, I soothe my mind by imagining the sound of my feet and the roll of the jogging stroller along my backyard trails, under the pink hue of cherry tree branches and the gold catkins of the alders.