When I was in my early twenties I would hear impossible stories and roll my eyes.
One I recall was about a woman who went to the emergency room because of stomach pain and discovered that it wasn't stomach pain. She was 9 months pregnant and giving birth. It was utterly ridiculous. Any woman--even a non educated one--would know she was pregnant before she was nine months along. Even if she didn't get morning sickness, she would recognize when she had sex, her periods stopped and her belly moved by its self. I am not wrong here I thought defiantly. How could a woman not know that she was pregnant? Idiots, we are talking about idiots, I complained very vocally about it.
In my late thirties came my opportunity to claim my place--as one of the idiots. I discovered I was pregnant with Gavin four and a half months into my pregnancy. I had no inkling of this knowledge until the actual discovery of it. What finally tipped me off? I was running one morning around the track, and just couldn't push myself to hit the split times. When I jogged to recover between the splits, my heart rate returned to normal and I felt good. However during the splits my energy plummeted. After my third failed attempt at the split time I said to my friend "It feels like I am dragging another person around with me." Her comment back to me? "Have you considered that maybe you are?"
What? No, I thought. This couldn't be. I reasoned with my friend. For starters I was taking the pill--like clock work. Add to that my lack of a menstrual period was perfectly explained by the intense physical training I had been doing in preparation for the upcoming marathon. And for the crowning reason that this could not be so, I threw up every morning during the first three months of pregnancy, for all three of my previous pregnancies, and I had not been nauseous at all.
And yet, I was, in fact, pregnant. (I can now say it was the best surprise I have ever received! And that God has a plan, even if he doesn't let you in on it.)
It was painfully obvious to me at the time that not only should I never say never to avoid being the idiot, but also,
more importantly even, I should do less commenting on situations and more empathizing.
What brought on my sudden urge to write on this topic? Another experience I said I couldn't ever understand.
Yesterday I ran seven miles and returned home falling into my regular morning routine. Showered, got myself ready, amidst getting kids out of bed, fed and out the door to school. The morning was slightly unusual with work calls beginning around eight am instead of nine.
As the mommy routine transitioned into work, I looked at the clock and proudly considered how much I had already accomplished. At 9:30 I went to stand and almost fell over. I was dizzy. I laid down for a minute, somewhat frustrated by the stall in my day. When at 9:45 a reminder went off on my phone. I sat up and began ticking off a mental list of possibilities for my feelings of dizziness and lethargy.
Why am I so tired?
Am I getting sick? The run was fine this am, that doesn't seem right.
Did I not get enough sleep? No I hit my usual 6 hours.
Then what could it be? Ohhhh. Yeah, I forgot to eat.
