The taper crazies and pre-race jitters...
Practicing the art of surrender during life's most restless seasons
Hello friends, and happy May!
Today, I’m 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant, writing to you from my trusty yoga ball as we continue to wait (somewhat impatiently) for the arrival of our first baby. I’ve been 2.5 cm dilated for the past three weeks so was convinced our daughter would be making her debut early. But alas, here we are… still waiting.
I’ve always hoped for as natural a birth as possible — though let me be clear, we will be in a hospital, and I WILL be getting an epidural (I’m not that heroic)! Still, I’ve been trying to avoid the idea of induction if I can, which means… waiting. Lots of it. And as I’ve tried to stay patient through these slow, uncertain, final days, I realized: this whole experience feels a lot like the taper crazies before a big race.
I’m nesting like a maniac, taking on DIY projects that absolutely don’t need to happen right now, placing way too many random Amazon orders, and bouncing through yoga flows and Bravo marathons in equal measure. It’s a strange mix of excitement and fear — knowing something big is coming, but not exactly when or how.
So this month, I thought I’d share three grounding strategies I’ve been leaning on to help stay centered during this period of in-between. Whether you’re waiting for a baby, a job offer, a new chapter, or the sound of the starting gun — these seasons of waiting ask more of us than just time. They ask us to let go of control, to sit with uncertainty, and to meet each day with a little more patience than the one before. They ask us to accept that we can’t always steer the timing or how things will go down when it’s go time — but we can choose how we show up while we wait. And in the end, maybe that’s the real work: learning to wait with grace, to trust what we cannot yet see, and to surrender to the process unfolding in its own way.
1. Control what you can control
There’s a strange comfort in rearranging spice jars, cleaning out your closet for a big Goodwill haul, or re-packing your hospital bag for the third time. During moments when the big picture feels overwhelmingly out of reach, the little things become our anchors. In the final weeks of pregnancy — and in the final days before a marathon — I always find myself reaching for whatever scraps of control I can gather. Organizing drawers. Making lists. Choosing the best post-birth snacks, essential oils, or race-day fit — as if perfecting those choices could somehow influence the outcome.
And maybe they can’t. But they give shape to the waiting. They remind me that while I can’t force the finish line to arrive, I can still prepare my body, my space, and my heart to meet it.
2. Keep moving
My running coach always says, “motion is lotion for the legs”. This is technically in the context of active recovery, but I’ve been thinking about how it applies to more than just muscle stiffness — especially now.
Throughout pregnancy, staying mobile has been my saving grace. Since reaching my third trimester, I haven’t been able to run, lift, or generally train the way I used to, but I’ve still made it a point to move every day. Even in these final, oh-so-uncomfortable weeks, I’m getting in my 10,000 steps — not because I’m chasing fitness goals, but because it helps me feel like me. It reminds me I’m still in my body, still grounded, even when my mind is spinning with what-ifs.
I always find that movement softens the edges of anxious thoughts. It shifts the energy around just enough to create space — space to breathe, to feel, to be okay with not knowing what comes next. It’s not about productivity or progress. It’s about regulating the nervous system, quieting the noise, and coming home to myself in moments that feel anything but settled.
Even the smallest of movements — a slow walk, a stretch, bouncing on the yoga ball while watching The Kardashians — can work wonders. A gentle reminder that motion is, indeed, lotion — for the body, for the mind, and for the soul.
3. Practice surrender
Since becoming a marathoner, I’ve become a big fan of the power of visualization, having spent many 20-mile long runs picturing myself crossing a marathon finish line — imagining the final stretch down Boylston, the cheers, Charlie waiting to greet me with a big hug, the relief, pride, and happy tears all flowing out. I hold onto these mental images during the hardest miles.
The idea of labor has been no different. I’ve visualized how it might begin, how Charlie will help me get through the contractions, how it will feel to meet our daughter for the first time. I’ve played the whole thing out in my mind again and again for many months — hoping that if I can see it clearly enough, maybe I can help bring it into being.
But I’m now well aware that birth, much like marathons, doesn’t always go according to plan — hence why I’m sitting here writing to you past my due date! You can imagine every detail, you can prepare, hope, pray, and wish — but at some point, you simply have to let go. You have to hand it over to something bigger than you. For me, that’s God. And that is the hardest part: not the waiting, but the surrender to His plan. The release of my own control.
So instead of gripping tightly to one version of how this moment should look, I’m practicing how to soften and to trust my body. To meet the moment as God intended, not as I imagined it. And just like in the final miles of a marathon, when the original plan runs away from you, and it’s just you, your tired body and mind, and whatever is left in the tank — I’ll be there, doing the same. Showing up the best I can, letting go, and trusting that the finish line will come — in its own time, and in its own magical way.
Remember… you’ve got this!
Whether you’re counting down to race day, a major life change, or something you can’t quite name yet, waiting stretches us in quiet, invisible ways. It asks us to hold space for both fear and hope. It invites us to trust in timing we can’t control. And it reminds us, over and over, that the only way through is to keep showing up — with curiosity, with faith, and with an open heart.
As I sit here — still bouncing, still walking, still waiting — I don’t know exactly when our daughter will arrive or how her story will begin. But I do know that I’m ready to meet her. Just like I’ve learned to meet the final miles of a marathon: one breath at a time, grounded in preparation, but open to whatever comes next.
So here’s to all of us who are learning to wait — to keep moving forward, to release the outcome, and to trust, even in the uncertainty, that we’ll know when it’s time.
xoxo,
Tay
A few final notes…
In case you’re not already subscribed, I now have a weekly newsletter (Tay’s Healthy Hacks) for paid subscribers where we dive deeper into health, fitness, and wellness-related topics with tangible tips and tricks! You can learn more here and read a sampling of the archives here.
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Currently sitting here 40 weeks and one day pregnant and stumbled upon your newsletter. It was exactly what I needed to read. Thank you for that!