Slow.

I've never run this slowly in my life.

It's a blow to my pride, even though I'm running down in the basement on my treadmill and no one can see me or judge me. I'm torn between wanting to be faster ... and not caring. The rational part of me knows that I have to run-- however slowly-- now, if I want to be faster later. So it's just part of the process.

But it's just so inefficient!

Still, I'm grateful to be healthy and able to run. And grateful to be able to run at 10:30 at night, safely, with my baby parked next to the treadmill.

I ran four miles last night -- ever so slowly-- and it was a psychological triumph. I wasn't sure I could do it. I'm still not in shape, and my left knee's been hurting a bit. So I just kept the pace easy and kept on going. I haven't run this far in three years.

It wasn't fun last night, but I'm feeling proud today.

I'm thirty.

My birthday was on Thursday, and Bob took me (and Owen) out to dinner. We went to a restaurant/bar downtown that we'd never been to together (I'd been once before, for a girls' night out, for drinks -- except that I was pregnant at the time, so my drink was Diet Coke), and we had a really nice time. Perhaps, though, it was odd timing to sit and discuss our life insurance policies. Sorry. My bad, Bob. But our State Farm office had called that morning to tell me about a new option, so it was fresh in my mind.

Hey, I know! It's my birthday, so let's talk about life insurance and funerals!

Whoops.

Bob had really talked up my birthday with the kids, and Caroline has been super-sweet about it. She keeps writing me love notes, and making me "presents" (like one of her books, wrapped in a napkin), and paying me compliments.

On another note, I am SICK of pregnancy weight. I didn't lose all the weight after Will was born, so I started this pregnancy a little heavier. That means I have 1 1/2 pregnancies' worth of weight to lose, and it is a burden. Yuck. So I'm setting a goal for myself, like I did after Lucy was born. I ran a marathon when she was six months old. But this time, I just plan to run a half-marathon. The side benefit, of course, is the weight loss. I've gone for three runs so far (on my bargain treadmill in the basement), and I feel simultaneously like I'm in better and worse shape than I thought. The running is hard work, but I can run more than I expected, right off the bat.

So the goal is to run the Carmel Half-Marathon on June 11. It will feel more official once I register, but I'm excited already.

Is it spring yet?

I find myself longing for spring. Daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths, tulips. Warmer weather. Fewer layers to put on the kids every time we go outside.

And gardening.

Last year was my first experience with a vegetable garden. (Excluding, of course, all the gardens Dad had as I was growing up. Of which there were many.) I made some mistakes. I didn't plant some things early enough. I didn't support some plants enough. And I planted most things too close together. They still flourished, but it was super-annoying to harvest the vegetables.

This morning, I felt like planning out Vegetable Garden 2011. So I got out some graph paper, a pencil, ... and some easel paper, watercolors, a permanent marker, a cup of water.

It helps to include your 4 1/2-yr-old assistant, you know.

I had a baby.

Just over three weeks ago.

I keep meaning to blog about it, but I have so much to say, I can't decide how to narrow it down.

First, though, let me introduce you to Owen Alexander. He is a sweet, sweet baby, and I can't get enough of him.

So, it was Super Bowl Sunday, and I started having some pretty significant contractions at about the end of the first quarter. Bob and I were trying to keep up with the game, but he kept asking me if I was okay. I told him, "These contractions aren't messing around!" But I didn't think it was time to call the midwife.

Finally, when I didn't want to talk or move during the contractions, he insisted that I call the midwife. Though my contractions weren't THAT close together, they were pretty tough to handle, so the midwife agreed that I should go ahead and come in to the hospital. I called Vanessa, who had come into town to help with the kids, and asked her to come over.

We left for the hospital around 2. I'm always terrified that I'm wrong, that I'm not actually in labor, so it was a relief when the nurse checked me and announced that I was five centimeters dilated. (I'd been 2-3 cm for about three weeks.) This was happening.

They started my antibiotic, since I'd tested positive for Group B Strep, and I sat in that bed, excited, and hoping that MY midwife could be there. Sharon is my midwife. She's been the only midwife on staff at the hospital for about two years. But a month before my due date, she hired another midwife. She'd told me that she was planning on being at my delivery even if she wasn't on call, but it was Anne on call that night, and no mention was made of Sharon coming in.

I was really disappointed, but I didn't know if there was anything that I could/should do so that Sharon could be there. Well, as it turned out, Anne had not attended her requisite three water births in order to be able to be on duty alone for one, so she had to call Sharon in. I was thrilled, and tried not to show it, when Anne told me.

Did I mention that at my first appointment with Sharon, we discovered that her husband used to work for Bob's dad? She's been hearing stories about him since they first started dating. Not to mention that we have a lot in common with her, and our kids love her. We wanted her to be there.

My last three deliveries, I've had OB-GYN's attending. This was so, so different. My two midwives stayed in the room with us the WHOLE TIME. I couldn't believe it. I remember them leaving at one point just to find a chair so Bob could sit comfortably by the birthing pool. Other than that, they were there.

(Am I holding my iPhone there? I think I am. I may have been calling my parents, WHO DID NOT PICK UP, to tell them I was in labor. Seriously. I was 9 months pregnant, okay, minus one day, and I called them at three in the morning, and they DID NOT PICK UP.)

The labor went exactly as we'd hoped. Apart from my IV (and the hospital setting, of course), everything was totally natural and un-medical. No pitocin. No breaking the water artificially. No monitors strapped to me. No checking my dilation periodically. No telling me what to do. They just let me have my baby. It was amazing.

Amazing.

So Owen was born in the water. Bob cut the cord (once it stopped pulsing, which was a while later). He nursed well from the start. (Owen, that is, obviously.) He's been happy from the get-go. I am so thankful.

Life is good.