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I'm feeling sort of blah today. A good friend--who, like me, is normally very cynical about such things--has been told that by her Reiki practitioner that her third chakra is out of whack, and that this would explain her recent lethargy. Lots of ideas, little actual seeing through of these ideas. I think she just saved me the $60 by sharing her diagnosis with me. Third chakra! Wake up, wake up! (I don't think that's what one does to activate one's chakras--type "wake up" on one's laptop keyboard. And since the chakra that would help me do something to fix the chakra is also the chakra that's sleeping right now... You see the bind I'm in. I know you do.)
That paragraph I just made you sit through? It's exactly what I'm talking about.
I have my reasons
One is that I'm really getting only sporadic exercise. My active times seem to come in spurts. Memorial Day weekend, for instance, I was up and at 'em. In the course of a day, I did a new prenatal yoga tape that kicked my booty (not like the other one I own, which I like to have playing in the background while I sleep--I mean, meditate); I helped Aron clean out sections of our basement (no heavy lifting, but a lot of standing up and squatting down and leaning over and picking up); I took Sylvia to a playground where she demanded to be lifted into the chest-high baby swing, then to be taken out, then put back in; I accompanied her on a playdate, which meant about six trips up and down the stairs to check on the either rambunctious or silent kids, and then to search for the lost shoes.
In my non-pregnant days, this would have been a normal day. Nothing to mention. But by that evening, I suddenly realized that I very seriously needed to lie down. On my left side, with plenty of pillows. And do nothing else. I felt some twitching in my abs, some aches and pains in my sides and my thighs. It wasn't that I was exhausted. More like certain sections of my body were demanding immediate relief.
How are you supposed to know when you've pushed yourself too far? Especially when the things that can take you too far aren't extreme sports, but just going about your life? I may be a little odd in that I keep forgetting that I'm pregnant. I was like this when I was pregnant with Sylvia, too--just operated as myself, and every once in a while I'd be surprised to look down and see my big belly. My body has changed in other ways, but when I'm out and about, those oddities of the human form sort of melt away, and I'm just me. Not a big pregnant lady or a woman in a delicate condition. I don't expect people to hold the door open for me, or offer me a glass of water the second I walk in the room. (Of course, they can't win: If they offer me their seats, I get flustered and refuse. If they don't, I silently postulate theories to explain their rude and inconsiderate behavior.)
Just today, a friend and I were talking about if I should sneak into a class at a local university. (Long story.) It's a lecture class, but it's against the rules for non-students to sit in. I was saying how I was tempted to just sit in the back and look busy, and maybe no one would notice me. "Yeah, but then you're pregnant, and you'd stick out to the professor--he would definitely have remembered you if you were a student of his."
I was weeding the ridiculously overgrown garden when we were on the phone, and I had to sit back on my heels when she said that. "You know, I never would've thought of that," I said. It's true--I would've sauntered into the room as if I were invisible, not recognizing the fact that to the outside world, I'm a walking reminder of procreation.
Peeling away from the pillows
So I feel like I've pretty much been there, on my left side, since Memorial Day. (We also had another trip down to Florida thrown in, so in retrospect, maybe this is false--but believe me when I say I've done no real exercise since then, aside from a couple medium-length walks.) And I think this is contributing, in a chicken-and-egg sort of way, to how lazy I feel.
These days, when we're walking in town, Sylvia wants to either be carried
("I need a hug, Mama"), or run down the sidewalk ("You want to run with me, Mama? Come on, Mama"). I hate that there are times that neither of those options work for me. So tonight, after a chaotic and trying meal at a Chinese restaurant, when she turned and said, "Hold my hand, Mama. Let's run," I decided to stop holding myself back. We jogged down the street, my belly bouncing along with us, and for the first time in about a week, I felt energized.
My third chakra must've decided to wake up.
Join writer Emily Bloch each week as she chronicles her pregnancy.