Much like a getting a hair cut or shaving my legs, this post is long overdue. Not as overdue as I was when MY BABY WAS BORN, but irresponsibly late. All 5 of you that are left are dying to know about the baby, right?
Grady James plopped onto planet Earth at a reasonable hour on May 21st. He was big but not huge (like my calves circa summer 2012), nice and long and already sporting a hipster hair arrangement. He looked nothing like Eric OR me. He is far cuter than either of us.
If you’ve already had a baby, you know that the birth is really a leisurely act in comparison to the days that follow. (Said the lady who got an epidural haaaaaa) Though my post-partum days have been pretty cushy, I don’t find myself with a lot of time to blog. I mean, between the two-a-day workouts, experimenting with nail art techniques, playing new versions of Settlers of Catan and taking a shitload of pictures of Grady, there just ISN’T. ANY. TIME.
I weathered the delivery almost as well as Grady, however I still have some crotch pain and a deflated balloon uterus that sways in a strong breeze. I started out able to comfortably walk with my Baby in his Bjorn (thanks to Adam for our beloved Baby Bjorn. Adam’s Mom- if you’re reading this- Adam is a wonderful person even though he tends to leave his blood all over the place when biking or climbing), my decaf latte in my hand, still rocking bad maternity jeans.
Howza bout running? Running inspired me to write this blog all those months ago, and my relationship with it has already changed in so many ways. Over a year ago saw the completion of my first marathon and subsequent interest in one day becoming an ultrarunner. One year ago I was in the most physically fit state of my life.
Back to now, 14 weeks after the birth of my beautiful baby, I have taken my first running steps as a Mom. These runs are still measured in minutes vs. miles and are humbling. My body still clings to it’s pregnant vestiges and it’s not easy to run with huge boobs and a flopping midsection. My mind shifts around to new topics never before experienced on a run, such as: “How long do I have before Grady needs to be fed again?” “I hope all of this lactic acid doesn’t infest my breasts and poison my child.” “I should have worn three sports bras instead of just two.” And, most commonly, “why the shit am I doing this?” I never imagined how hard it would be to run with huge boobs and huge thoughts.
Dust off your noob hats and settle in. I’ve got lots of new stories about camping, biking, climbing and running with a sweet lil baby and everyone’s favorite bearded sidekick.