There is an epidemic going around in my social world. An epidemic of pregancy. It started oh, about 9 or so months ago, and continues so far unabated. Today, for example, I attended what might be the 10th baby shower I’ve been invited to in so many months. I was a co-host for this one in Athens, for one of my best friends, Jesi, who will have Adalyn in April.

This baby shower hosted about 25 women, 4 of whom were either pregnant or had given birth in the past 2 weeks. That’s 16% percent of the women at that shower!
Meanwhile, in another part of the state, Matron of Honor Lindsi sits in extreme discomfort and counts the minutes until she goes into labor.
It doesn’t end there. Two out of the 15 women on my tennis team are pregnant. Maybe more, these are just the ones that I know about! My cousin just had a baby, as did two other close friends, including ANOTHER bridesmaid. Not to mention that two of the 18 members of the Girls on the Run of Atlanta board are pregnant, as is one of the volunteers who works on GOTR’s social media.
Needless to say, I’ve become more familiar with Boppies and onesies than anyone planning a wedding should. The good news is, these ladies will be well versed in child birth and rearing by the time I catch up. This seems to be how I roll. At the ripe old age of 27, I am FINALLY getting married (what was I thinking waiting until my late twenties in the South???), and thus have the benefit of every other friend’s experiences. In fact, I will gladly admit that my friends are truly the ones planning this wedding. During a phone conversation today with my unofficial planner Danielle R., I realized that I have yet to choose a vendor that she has not recommended. She came up with the idea for my reception venue, cakes, favors, centerpieces, and flowers. My MOH Lindsi is helping me pick out invitations, is designing my program and guest book, took my engagement photos, and will likely design my wedding album. Another bridesmaid Danielle essentially found my bridesmaid dresses online. And I must give The Major props for finding the church. And what have I done? Basked in the glory of their ingenuity and found the perfect dress of all time. Not bad – so why am I so stressed out?
In other news, the long run did not go well at all. We chose a 12.5-mile route, and I started feeling rough at about mile 0.5. I ran 9 miles before the gas ran out, thus forcing The Major to endure with me my own personal hell of walking 3.5 miles in the biting, freezing wind. It’s amazing how much worse winter feels while walking. I know I shouldn’t feel discouraged – it’s not like 9 miles is something to be scoffed at. It’s just that I’m beginning to question not only if I can achieve my goal, but if I can even complete the half-marathon. My knees hurt so badly, and the rest of my legs ache and throb after about the first 5 miles – including my ankles and the balls of my feet. As we speak, I am soaking my feet old-lady style. I’m supposed to run outside first thing tomorrow, and know I need to get back on the proverbial horse, but am just not feeling it at all.
The good news is: VACATION IN TWO DAYS. The Major runs an annual tennis tournament in Kiawah Island – www.tennisescape.com – and we leave for the beach on Wednesday morning! Five days of tennis, drinking, friends, and relaxation. I think I may be more pumped about this trip than any of the exotic trips I’ve taken. I’ve just never been this strung out and in need of decompression. At this point I question my ability to make it through the next two days with my sanity intact…