Moms are on my heart. I wish I lived close enough to every single mom I know on twitter and/or instagram just so I could squeeze their babies while they go to Starbucks/buy new shoes/ take a nap.
On any given day, babies are either 100% on my radar or not on my radar at all. Uh. One of those statements is a lie. Honestly, I keep my baby-related cards pretty close to my chest, but if you watch closely enough, occasionally, some small truths start to trickle out.
So. There's that.
Right now, my focus is on my physical and mental health & wellness. Hardest ambition ever. Am I right? I hope there are lots of demons The Lord has helped me tame before we have kids. I'm terrified of having a daughter and not knowing how to help her love her body because I don't love my own. Double Yikes. Is that the most difficult truth on the internet? My most difficult truth. Yes.
With that being said, I've started running.
I love it.
I sent my friend a text message from the arc trainer the other day. After a sweaty 60 minute workout I actually asked her if it was possible for me to request a medically induced coma.
Before I started running, I was super scared, guys. I actually cried in the parking lot of the park. I'm not even kidding.
It is scary being out of shape and trying something new. It just is.
In a moment of absolute desperation, I wrote Lucy's and Lucas' initials on my hand because they're my faves. and they make me want to be a better human being. And those six little letters gave me courage.
On my first day back at the gym after an almost two week break (no one wants to sweat when they're covered in poison ivy), again I wrote their initials on my hand...along with a few other sweet babies I know.
And praying for those sweet souls gave me courage. So I started to do it during every run, and when my hands ran out of room, I wrote them down on paper.
Awhile ago, I connected with a sweet gal via the internet. She was having a hard time. I understood. I reached out. She wrote back and offered to add me to the list of women she was praying for. I agreed and it was the most humbling experience I've had in a long time.
It was one of those experiences that leaves you crying to your mother in Panera. So. This is me paying it forward.
I will tell you this...
I've got a whole list of babies and new moms and women struggling with miscarriages/infertility that I'm posting on the treadmill when I run. Run. Breathe. Pray. Run.
If you need baby-related prayers, I'm your girl. I'll even write it on poster board if I run out of room.
I can't help but think of this, and it makes me giggle.
If you are struggling with infertility or a miscarriage or you have a tiny baby at home, hit me up. I'd love to add you to the list.
You don't have to tell me any specifics, and I promise I will never publicly publish your name.
You can even anonymously leave a comment below with your initials or you can find me at firstname.lastname@example.org
It's just that...now I'm running over 10 minutes at a time.
It's easy to give yourself a motivational speech for 1 minute and 30 seconds.
Not so easy for a minute and 540 seconds.
So. While I drag myself another 1/10 of a mile, I will pray for you and your babies and those of you with "resting in peace" babies and even your waiting-to-be-made babies- cause dang' if that isn't the stinkiest road to walk, right?
Love and I'm here if you need me,