Life in the not-so-fast lane

I’m not going to claim to be a “speedy” girl. To me, getting somewhere faster doesn’t have a whole lot of payoff. Why speed-walk when you can get there 5 minutes later walking like a normal human being? Running a marathon is certainly not on my Bucket List. I loathe the fact that Track & Field is considered a sport. I used to fake injuries during volleyball tryouts because they required we run a 400-meter dash. I could bump and set like nobody’s business, but move at a consistently rapid pace for more than 2 minutes? Over my dead body. I think I just never saved up enough breath to use it in the form of exercise…seemed like a waste to me. Why pant silently alone on a treadmill when you could use those same breaths gabbing a mile-a-minute with your girlfriends? And, THAT is where I used my speed. The Talk.

To be a speed-talker, you need to understand a few things: 1) It’s easiest to communicate with fellow speed-talkers; 2) Looks of confusion will follow you throughout your lifetime; and 3) Pregnancy will slow…(breath)…you…(breath)…down.

I didn’t realize it was happening to me until I was telling a story at work and got called out by a fellow-mother. “It’s starting, isn’t it?” My blank look did the talking for me as I waited for my diaphragm to catch up. “You’re having difficulty catching your breath.” Yes, I actually was. I hadn’t even noticed it amidst my pointless ramblings. I was still talking fast, but taking a lot more breaks. I sounded like a 95-year-old man doing chin-ups with a marshmallow lodged in his throat. What was happening to me?

Well, anatomically, I was 25 pounds heavier than 4 months prior. But, scientifically, I was increasing my progesterone levels at a fast rate, which apparently stimulates the respiratory center of my brain (basically, my hormones are giving the pink slip to all those hard-working lung-lovers employed in my head’s breath factory).  And, it wasn’t going to stop there. The bigger the baby gets, the more real estate my body has to sell. And, I thought I was already at “No Vacancy” with my intestines, liver, kidneys, appendix, spleen, and stomach! Oh, if only I knew what was coming…I would’ve bought more land.

Life feels different nowadays…
Chasing my dog down the street creates unison owner/puppy panting. Going from my office to the bathroom ends in a grateful prayer that I’m a woman and can sit to pee. Drinking an eight-ounce glass of water requires two to three intermissions.  Walking up stairs is reaching the point of amusing. And, walking up stairs, attempting to have a conversation is downright hilarious! It’s amazing all these everyday activities I took for granted before now cause me to feel dizzy, embarrassed, and fat.

According to my doctor, I’ll be speed-talking again in no time post-baby. In fact, she said I’ll even regain some breath when the baby “drops.” Hmmm…something tells me when he drops, I won’t be focusing on the joyfulness of simplified inhaling. I’m guessing I’ll be more centered on the fact that in less than 24 hours, I’ll be pushing an 8-pound child out of my pretty woman parts! Yeah, good try, doc.

And, even though I can’t breathe like I used to, I will bounce back, better and more fulfilled than ever. I now understand that speed isn’t everything. Sometimes, slow and steady wins the race. I know the whole process of pregnancy is a test of patience and endurance, which aren’t usually my strong points. But, in this particular race, I’m keeping solid form, holding my head high, and heading for the finish line…

And I haven’t faked an injury yet.