The Waiting Place

I’ve decided to give up waiting.  Waiting doesn’t do me any good.  I’ve been waiting for Baby to be born.  Waiting for ultrasounds.  Waiting to run again.  Waiting for Chris’ law school to be over.  Waiting to find a real job.  Waiting to get back into shape.  I don’t want to wait anymore and this conviction has been solidified by reading and re-reading Oh the Places You Will Go to Daughter at bedtime. 

                The waiting place . . .

                . . . for people just waiting

                Waiting for a train to go

                Or a bus to come or a plane to go

                Or the mail to come or the rain to go

                Or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow

                Or waiting around for a Yes or No

                Or waiting for their hair to grow

                Everyone is just waiting

                Waiting for the fish to bite

                Or waiting for the wind to fly a kite

                Or waiting around for Friday night

                Or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake

                Or a pot to boil, or a Better Break

                Or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants

                Or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.

                Everyone is just waiting.   

On Monday, I had another appointment with the midwives.  This was the third midwife I have seen in the last 2 months.  Like the most recent midwife I had seen, this one encouraged me to remain optimistic that my previa would resolve.  Baby’s heart rate was in the 150s and the Doppler picked up all of his movements.  Hearing him move at the same time I could feel him move was a surprise and gave me the giggles.  Chris just thought I was nuts.  I guess that’s one of the perks about being the mom:  Doppler giggles.  The best news I got was that if my previa clears up, all of my physical restrictions will be removed.  I can go running the same day as my ultrasound if things are looking favorable.   It would probably be an awkward run since I will be 10 weeks more pregnant than the last time I ran, and about 15 pounds heavier.  But I would be able to get my heart rate up again and I could really use that.

I also had my gestational diabetes test on Monday.   The easy version of the test consists of drinking a bottle of sugar water, waiting an hour, and having blood drawn to determine what my blood sugar level is.  The number I wanted to beat was 139.  I came in at 142.  Not quite good enough.   This earned me a trip back to the lab this morning to take the more extensive version of the test, involving 4 blood draws over the course of 3 hours.  Turns out I didn’t pass this test either, but just barely.  It was only my fasting blood sugar level that was too high.  96 instead of 95.  This was before I drank the sugar water.  The rest of my numbers, post sugar-drink, were well below the critical range.  So instead of diagnosing me with gestational diabetes, they want me to retake the longer test in a couple weeks.  I pushed back a bit while I was chatting with the nurse on the phone today.  If it’s borderline, can’t I just make changes to my diet and call it good?  Do I have to give up another 3 hours?  She said she chatted with the midwives about my case and they want to keep close tabs on me.  Then she listed all the reasons why:  my previous C section, the low amniotic fluid level I had in the last pregnancy, the infection I got during labor, and the previa I’m currently dealing with.  She said that all of those combined factors put me at higher risk.  In other words, she convinced me that taking the test again in a couple weeks is a good idea. 

In the meantime, I’m not going to wait for 2 weeks before I start making changes to my diet.  I’m going to be more mindful of my food choices.  Less pasta, bread, and ice cream.  More meat, dairy, and oatmeal.  I’ll admit, I’ve been letting myself go since running was removed from my regimen.  Finding the time to walk has been challenging.  But this diabetes scare is just what I need to get myself moving in the right direction again.  I had an epiphany.   I don’t have to wait to get myself in shape for running.  There are things I can do today, at 27 weeks, to help me reach my running goals.  Whether it’s more exercise (which is only walking in my world right now) or less junk food.   Somewhere along this pregnancy, I’ve given up my good choices and my priorities without giving it a second thought.  That’s a place I don’t want to be.  That’s the waiting place.  

A Step Back

                Today marks my 25^th week of pregnancy.  This is the week that expectant moms are told is a critical week.  If a baby is delivered at 25 weeks, he or she has a chance at surviving.  Granted, it’s not a very good chance, and the future would be filled with many, many days in the hospital.  But it is possible for a 25 week old fetus to survive.  Thankfully, my little sprout has given me no indication that he wants to come out.  Instead, he’s content doing his acrobatics in my womb.  In fact, Chris is a bit worried about how active Baby is.  He’s concerned that Baby is going to be hyperactive.  I tell him that‘s how boys are. 

25 weeks

                We went in for our first post-ultrasound consult a couple weeks ago.  Looking back, I should have been in there much sooner to find out the details of my condition, but the midwife clinic seemed to think a phone conversation was adequate at the time.   If you recall, my previous midwife, who has since left the practice in pursuit of a new opportunity, told me running was still fine.  We found out quite a bit of new and conflicting information at the in-person consult.  The new midwife told me that I could not perform any exercises more strenuous than walking.  No elliptical, no weightlifting, and certainly no running. 

                She told us that if things (aka, my placenta) stay as is, my C-section will be scheduled for 37 weeks.  That’s the critical time when baby is hopefully developed enough to not have complications and before natural labor would start.  Supposedly, it’s really, really bad to go into labor when the placenta is blocking the exit.  The midwife said words like “excessive” and “hemorrhaging.”  The medical experts will do everything they can to prevent labor in my current state.  She also mentioned that an amniocentesis would be performed at 36-37 weeks to determine if Baby’s lungs are developed enough for life outside the womb.  For those who don’t know, amniocentesis is a procedure where they take a very long needle and stick into a pregnant woman’s belly to extract amniotic fluid.  This fluid can tell oodles of information, like if Baby will be able to breathe.   It doesn’t sound like a fun procedure.  37 weeks would give me an amended due date of July 30^th.  Did I mention that Chris is taking the bar exam on July 24^th & 25^th?  That’s just how we roll.

      However . . .

                While the previous midwife seemed very doom and gloom that the placenta was not going to move, the new midwife encouraged us to remain optimistic that things would resolve.  My next scan will be at 29 weeks, or June 4^th.  At that point, we’ll see if there is any forward progress.  If not, they’ll probably schedule another scan for a few weeks after.  One of the frustrations I’ve found with my medical care is that I always go into my appointments excited and optimistic and leave feeling unsettled.  My questions get answered, but most of them are a “Wait & See” response.  It’s maddening. 

                One thing I realized is that if my placenta does clear completely out of the way of my cervix, I would be able to run again.  Granted, I probably wouldn’t be doing 5 mile hill workouts like I was doing at 20 weeks, but to be able to run a single mile at 30 weeks would be exhilarating.  It would probably also be painful.   We’ll worry about that if and when I get there. 

     Yesterday, I took Daughter with me to cheer at a half marathon I was registered for.  Obviously, I couldn’t run, but a lot of my friends were running the race and I still wanted to be a part of it.  It was an enlightening experience and one that I’m pretty sure will benefit me as a runner. 

Me and my girl

There were pacers who held signs as they ran to help runners reach their goal times.  The first sign read 1:30 and each subsequent sign increased by 5 minutes.  With these signs, I could see exactly where I would fit in, pre-pregnancy, based on my fall marathon time.  I’d be a 1:41. Incidentally, this was exactly the time that Victor ended up with. 

Watching the 1:41ers run past me was profound.  I couldn’t imagine myself moving that fast.  Those runners were really flying!  Yet I know what my abilities were.  I have the data on my Garmin to prove it.  For one of the first times, I really impressed myself as a runner . . . and I was only watching.  It was like seeing how good I was, and how good I will be again, from outside of myself.  It was a wonderful experience.

This may sound strange, but I already feel faster than my best marathon PR.  I’m better than a 3:35.  It will just take me a little bit of time to get to my potential.   I know it’s there already.    I just needed to take a step back to really see how good I am.  A 3:20 lives inside of me.