Wandering

As far as first-day fiascos go, this one was probably a 5 out of 10. I thought I had arrived in plenty of time to confidently walk in to Monroe 203 for my first day of class as a full-time, full-fledged college professor. Before class, I strolled to the copy center to pick up my syllabi hot of the press and then began the walk down a shaded path to Monroe. Halfway down the bath I felt a little moisture on my hip — I assumed it to be water from the bathroom sink. However, three-fourths of the way down the bath I felt more moisture on my hip. Upon further examination I realized that the water was coming from my large black plastic-like purse. I peaked inside and discovered a pool of water. In it, my lipstick was swimming, my cell phone drowning, and the colorful notecards purchased for a class activity were bobbing up and down. My water bottle with a half-opened top stood upright and swayed as if laughing at what it had accomplished. I casually found an empty picnic table a ways off the trail and emptied my wet belongings as if looking for my car keys. I dumped about a pint of water out of bag.

I made it to class in time, just a little more harried than I would have preferred. The blue, orange and yellow notecards became mush, rainbowish-colored notecards. I still used them. I had the students write their name, their political experience and their prediction for the presidential election on the dry half of the card. They just smiled at the other half.

From a former student of mine:

…has thus far consisted of my husband poking my belly telling our little girl to “wake up” and then telling her “it’s Oozy.” It’s been very sweet. I guess you had to be there.

The plan was to be the most healthy woman on the planet. I had even planned on buying a fancy water purification system that runs $200-300 at Home Depot. I remember eating my favorite dessert pre-pregnancy (York Peppermint patties) and thinking, “I won’t eat these when I’m pregnant. No nutritional value and articial flavoring.” And I was confident I’d be able to run throughout my pregnancy perhaps even a 10K in the final months.

Thus far, at week 20, I have spent upwards of $50 on Chipotles runs, hit Subway twice for foot-long steak and cheese subs, and gave up water almost entirely for a few weeks in favor of artificially-sweetened sports drinks. One of the best things I have ever tasted in my life was an omelette at 1 a.m. at the Huntley Hotel in Santa Monica, CA — room service after our flight arrived that evening and we got a little lost on the way to the hotel. My monthly Runner’s Magazine has been sidelined for “Walkers Anonymous” — a publication I’m considering sponsoring for those runners that are humbled by X (X=injury, pregnancy, etc.) and forced to speed walk their way to fitness. You should see my ever-growing rear end jiggle down the Capital Crescent trail.   

It was 20 weeks to the day that I was first identified as a pregnant woman by a stranger. Granted, I was wearing a tank top (non-maternity) having just walked to the eye doctor appointment, and a small patch of sweat called attention to the top of my uterus which is apparently behind my belly button. “Is this your first?” She asked. It caught me off guard and I was tempted to say – no, I’ve been to the eye doctor before. The next day, the woman checking me out at Trader Joe’s complimented my “flowing” clothes — maternity is also how you might describe them I said — “No!” she exclaimed. The shock made me feel good — I’ve gained almost 4 lbs over what I should have gained by this point. Walking does not equal running.

Thankfully, the vomitting has subsided. (Last visit on that front: July 21, about 18 weeks pregnant), and though I still eat Honey Nut Cheerios in the middle of the night to keep my blood sugar afloat, I am not crawling out of my skin to escape the nausea. And if I gain 60 lbs and have a healthy baby, I won’t care. Maybe I’ll care a little, but only on my bad days.