(Please excuse the messy playroom.)

Last week I hit an exciting milestone – the day I’ve been thinking of as my “pregnancy PDR.”  For my non-running friends, “PDR” stands for “personal distance record.”  It’s the furthest you’ve ever run.  And the cool thing about it is, once you take a step past your old PDR, every step is a new PDR.

As many of my friends know, Peanut was a surprise early arrival at 31 weeks, 3 days pregnant.  (That’s roughly seven and a half months.)  She needed to come out, certainly, but she wasn’t ready… nor were we.  So I suppose it’s unsurprising that, ever since we found out that we were expecting Nugget, “31w4d” has been bumping around in my head.  Would I get to 31w4d?  Would I get further?

I got there on Tuesday.  It wasn’t the big celebration I had in mind, because I was miserably sick with a stomach virus that Peanut had brought home from daycare and passed around our house.  (Hence my disappearance last week – sorry about that; between all three of us floored by the virus at one point or another, and then desperately trying to catch up at work the rest of the week, it was all I could do to keep my head above water.  Thank goodness for grandparents.)  On Tuesday, I was taking a sick day and subsisting on saltine crackers and Gatorade.  But I managed to struggle out of my PJs long enough to take a commemorative bump photo.  And I’m just now beginning to appreciate that I’m here at this point in pregnancy.

I’m now almost a week past my old pregnancy PDR.  It feels good.  Every day feels a little bit safer – but I’m very aware that it’s not time to have this baby yet, and I’m still crossing fingers and toes and eyes that he stays in until March.  So far, we’re hanging in there (stomach bugs notwithstanding).  In the meantime, I’m just happy to have a new pregnancy PDR… and now I’m working on padding my stats.