Monday, February 7, 2011

11 min miles, a few extra pounds and a cold-how much more blessed can I be?


So I know I’ve been absent, but it was kinda difficult not spilling the beans about the coolest thing happening in my life! J  So now it’s public and I have really begun to process exactly what it means to be pregnant.  For the first time I think I truly am understanding what it means to put someone else’s needs before your own and to do something for someone else, not because you want to but because it is the right thing to do.  Most everyone knows I’m a workout-a-holic (freak I was called by a friend recently).  So when I was well into my first trimester and anything healthy seemed revolting and the only thing I wanted to eat was salt and vinegar potato chips and bread….it bothered me-a lot.  The doc even said, so long as I’m not throwing up-I should just eat what I could get down.  But we all know those extra pounds don’t come without some mental twangs.  It was really tough not to mentally berate myself when I’m staring down a piece of chicken because I know I should eat it, but yet I just want to butter that loaf of bread and down that, and that darn chicken is making me nauseous. 
Second case in point is working out-so since I know I have gained more weight than I should I wanted to work out.  But I knew that I need to watch my intensity (to high of heart rate could lead to ‘stealing’ blood that was meant for the baby to replenish the muscles/my heart that I’m working out).  That is so hard when I’m used to pushing myself through workouts!  To run an 11 min mile (well slower than that actually), and see that my heart rate is still too high-is heart breaking for the girl who used to lift as hard as she could and then run a mile as fast as she could just for fun!  It also brings about fears-what if I can’t get my body back?  What if I end up being a chunky mom like I vowed never to be?

Then there is the ultimate vanity issue-my hair.  It has been killing me that my doc recommended that I not dye it until the second trimester.  (Not that he thought anything would happen-but if anything did happen I’d be likely to find all sorts of things to blame and my pretty hair would be open game).  I wanted to wait right until the week I was out of my first trimester to make it pretty again.  But now I’m not quite so sure.

When I forget about my body and my hair and I think about the big picture-none of that matters any more.  God chose me (and Doug) to raise one of his children.  He entrusted me to carry it, and care for it.  So if that means I put on a few extra pounds and my hair isn’t the prettiest-in the end that is ok.  Oh how I can see my priorities changing and I know I don’t even know the half of it.  But as I sit here, suffering through a cold, for which I can’t take anything for-I know that if I can make it through this-and not be tempted to down some Nyquil so I can just get a good night’s sleep-then I will be doing my part to raise God’s child, as he intended.  Being sick isn’t my favorite, those few extra pounds are not my friend, and I still despise 11 min miles- but I know they are bringing me one step closer to one of God’s amazing blessings.  So I’ll try to enjoy my quarantine in the guest bedroom so I don’t get my husband sick, and not stress that I’m not going to the gym in the morning-and I’ll probably eat a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast, but God’s blessing is so much better than all of that!