Movement

I cherish movement in a way that only someone who has ever been in a position of forced non-movement can.  I spent some time bedridden, unable to even stand without losing my breath.  That's what congestive heart failure will do to your body.  It strips you of even basic movement.  No matter how much you want to get up, you just can't.  Your body won't let you.  You're trapped by it, trapped inside it. 

When I finally got up it was to begin some serious cardiac rehabilitation.  Rehab sucked.  Rehab sucked in ways you cannot possibly imagine unless you've had to do it.  I did not whine though. I did not have a pity party.  I pushed myself.  I pushed myself through the pain and the breathlessness and the vomiting, and even as tears leaked from my eyes, I made my body keep moving. 

It took me three years, but I finally got well enough to run a 5K.  This is me crossing the finish line:

It took me three years of cardiac rehab, one and a half years of training with a rehab tech and a bunch of fantastic firefighters, and 45 minutes to finish this 5K.  My only goal was to finish in time for my official time to count, and I secretly wished as hard as I could that I wouldn't come in last.  I had one hour to finish and still be counted as officially finishing the race.  I made that goal.  My time was counted.  I also didn't finish last.  Eleven people finished after me.  I know because I counted them on the list of official times. 

My lips were tinged blue when I crossed the finish line.  My face was bright red.  I had trouble catching my breath initially.  But I finished.  I did it.  It wasn't a marathon, but it felt like it to me.  I felt like I'd just won a big battle.  I was so proud.

Now I'm pregnant and once again my movement has been restricted. I've been on and off bed rest this entire six months of pregnancy.  I will have to do cardiac rehab again once the baby is born. It took me a long time to get healthy and strong the last time.  I sincerely hope it doesn't take me three whole years before I can run another 5K.  I revel in movement.  I may be slow, but, oh, to move! To move is a glorious thing.

Today, though, right this very second, I am grateful for another kind of movement.  I am grateful for a movement that isn't my own.  My hands are splayed across my growing belly, a belly inside of which our miracle baby is rolling and kicking and punching....and moving, such a wondrous, sacred dance.