After a delicious martini, late bedtime and sluggish morning, I opted to make this week a taper week. Instead of my tentative 18 miles, I ran 12. And it was glorious! I ran on the treadmill and felt good running. I (think) I could easily have done more, but decided that sticking with 12 was probably wise. I ran faster than my normal long runs, and enjoyed myself more than I have been. I had told myself last week that I would run outside no matter what, but it was frigid this morning and I've been pretty anxious lately, so opted to not run alone.
I heard the birth of a stillborn baby referred to as a song of silence ... I thought it so fitting. I am constantly replaying the moment Brienna was born. For whatever reason, I didn't expect her to cry. I think I knew that if she was born alive, she would be so sick and not have it in her to cry. I longed to hear it, believe me, but I didn't expect it. I still never believed that she would be stillborn - and I hate that term, but really, it's the only one that fits - and sometimes cannot believe that they told me she didn't have a heartbeat. I wonder, should we have tried to revive her despite the fact that we knew she had a 50% chance of being stillborn? I think I know in my heart we did the right thing for her, but I can't help but wonder if we somehow could have changed it ...
