Forty-Eight

March 2, 2011

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Creative Commons License photo credit: chrisinplymouthIn forty eight days I go to wait for my baby to be born. Well, I guess I’m already waiting, but I travel to the city that will forever be on baby’s paperwork as the place of birth.

Several weeks later (we hope) we’ll get to meet our little one (and I’ll ge to use a useful pronouns like “him” or “her”).

My mind is full of thought about baby, about getting ready, about tying little things around the house and big things around my job. My mind is not so much on weight loss, but at least is enough on weight loss that I’m gently moving down and feel good about myself. Hours of slogging away at the gym just feels abhorrent to me right now, and after fighting with myself for weeks I just decided to go with the resistance and only do what feels good.

The gestational carrier wants me to attend prenatal yoga classes with her once I get there so I at least have a goal to reach for – I cant possibly let myself be shown up by my 9-months pregnant surrogate! So stretching and flexibility and stregnth and stamina have a deadline now!

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