Today I felt better most of the day than I had in a while. H. and M. -- not to be confused with H&M, I suppose -- came over with all their kids. Originally we had planned to do a little schooling here and there, just to stay in practice. But then my first trimester hit me like a truck, and H.'s house suffered a series of basement floods, and various people had to leave town for various reasons, and....
Somehow it has just seemed like a better idea to sit around and drink coffee on the back deck while the 11 kids bounce on the trampoline, or sit around and drink tea in my living room while the 11 kids watch movies and play video games and build elaborate horse-racing tracks in Minecraft.
This morning I got up with Mark and nursed the toddler on the couch while we had coffee; I wrote quizzes for next year's eighth grade world history. M. arrived and we chatted while I set up a cold cut tray and mini-bagels and carrot sticks and bananas for the children's lunch. I made gazpacho for the grownups:
(First chill, then process till smooth: 2 lbs whole fresh tomatoes, quartered; half a fresh jalapeƱo; one peeled cucumber; half a green bell pepper; one clove garlic; several leaves of fresh basil; a teaspoon or more of salt; 1 cup water; 2 tbsp red wine vinegar; and a large heel of torn-up, day-old, crusty French bread.)
After lunch we cleaned up and had a leisurely afternoon of interesting discussions, temporarily interrupted with a (bought) birthday cake for one of M.'s girls at snack time. All the friends left just as Mark was coming in from work. He laid out a dinner of Leftover Buffet so that we could quickly clean up and go to the Y for family gym time.
The three younger kids disappeared into the maw of the child care room. My oldest went to the pool for a swim. Mark went to lift weights. I let the women's locker room door (WOMEN AGE 18+ ONLY) sigh closed behind me.
I changed into running clothes (still regular running pants, but today was the first day in a maternity running shirt). I have a habit, maybe a bad one, of picking lockers directly in front of the full-length mirror. I can't not look at myself, always appraising whether I am taking good enough care to remain in acceptable shape. I probably should be avoiding those lockers especially right now, because I can't deny that I am feeling lumper than usual, and it isn't generally a good feeling.
You know how the first trimester is. You eat what appeals, what stays down, even if it's fried chicken sandwiches and cups of artificially flavored butterscotch pudding. You eat when your brain and your blood sugar give you the thumbs up or the panic flutter. You rest as much as you can and you can't always fit in a run or a swim at the times when you have the energy to drag yourself off the couch. I worked hard to create good habits. I thought they were strong and firmly established. They are nothing but spun-sugar when the first trimester comes along. Pregnancy is the great habit-destroyer. It scours the ground clean.
So I am feeling very lumpy; I told Facebook a few days ago that I look about five months pregnant, and I don't think that is an exaggeration. It isn't a baby bump; this happened to me last time. By the time I had been pregnant for a few weeks, my core muscles had opened up and relaxed so much that my whole belly distended outward. It is unnerving to say the least. In fact it is sort of weirdly fascinating. I stand there in front of the full length mirror in the (mostly empty locker room, experimenting with sucking in my gut and letting it out again. I can't believe the change from just a few weeks ago. I have put on about ten pounds. I am excited to be having a baby, looking forward to hearing the heartbeat in three weeks if all goes well, but there is always a sort of culture shock to find oneself suddenly in a body with very different properties.
Here is the new thing I am trying this pregnancy for runs at the gym: warming up on the stair machine. I don't grab the handles, I let my arms swing, so that my hip motion isn't constrained and I am forced to attend to balance. As my pregnancy progresses, I plan to gradually increase the time on the stairclimber and decrease the time on the running track; last time I found that running got quite uncomfortable around the 24th or 25th week, but the stair machine felt great on the day I went into labor. I plan to use that knowledge this time.
So today I did 7 minutes of stair climbing and then went to the track, and the minute I started running I knew I was going to have a great run. I don't know if the track just felt easy after the climbing, or if it was the temperature drop as you go from the fitness center to the running track at the other end of the building, or if it was a well-timed blood sugar rise from my dinner digesting, but I fairly flew. At least I felt like I did; I forgot my stopwatch, so I couldn't check. But it felt so good! I know I went faster than usual, because right now, sitting on the couch with my iPad on my lap, I can feel the soreness all up and down my thighs and the core muscles on my sides. I'm tired now, but it is the good tired of having exercised. After weeks of the crushing weariness of first trimester that makes you wonder if you what you are really gestating is not a fetus but a flu virus, this is an improvement.
I passed the time as I circled the track by thinking bitterly about the fried things and grilled cheese sandwich crusts and ketchup and puddings and ginger ale and plain white rice I have been putting into my body, and envisioning a new mantra: Grown-up food will help my baby grow. I pictured myself over and over again saying no to the kids' leftover frozen pepperoni pizza for tomorrow's lunch, and instead sitting down to a cup of chilled gazpacho drizzled with olive oil, and a half-sandwich of salmon salad and avocado, and a pile of fresh, crunchy sugar snap peas.
I feel like I have done my time lying around sipping sugar water and eating ginger candy with the shades down, dully working crossword puzzles or browsing Reddit until I fall asleep with my glasses on. It's time to work for my keep again. Maybe it's not as easy, but sensory input is so much more satisfying.
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