In, out, in out. I fill up my lungs with air and exhale. “Blow it out like you’re blowing out a big birthday candle,” advises our spinning instructor. My lips form a big ‘O’ and I send the air flying out in a loud whoosh. Blood courses through my veins and sweat pores down my skin. My breath comes hard and fast and I can almost hear my heart beat. I feel so alive.

Spinning classes are my sanity. I look forward to getting on that bike and riding hard. If I miss more than a couple days, I get crabby and feel like my body and mind aren’t working quite right. Working out helps me relax and focus. The hours I spend on that seat are some of the most productive hours of my week because they’re all about me.

“We need to take care of ourselves first so we can take care of others,” we’re reminded in class. Taking care of me is an ongoing challenge. It’s ironic because many of my childhood memories converge around caretaking. My father had a stroke when I was twelve and that same year, my sister had a brain tumor. I was raised to be a caretaker.

Caring for others is selfless. Sometimes we do it because we love, other times we do it because it’s the right thing to do and many times we do it because we must. In contrast, caring for ourselves can feel selfish or frivolous, even though it is absolutely essential. When I don’t make enough time to take care of myself, my reserves are quickly depleted.  My ability to be patient is strained. I have less to give and give it less willingly.

I’ve thought a lot about how important it is to take care of me first, particularly when I imagine becoming a mom. It’s one thing that scares me about parenthood, not being able to create space in my life for me and for my relationship with Big Papa.

Once I become a mom, I know my priorities will shift. I fully expect that days will be rearranged in ways I can’t even imagine. So I feel even more committed now, to work towards maintaining balance.

It’s not easy. The stress of pursuing adoption is hard to imagine if you haven’t been through it.  The questions that intrude into your home life, the checks of criminal status, the financial obligation, and the agonizing waiting and wondering that puts many prospective adoptive parents through the emotional wringer.  On occasion, as we experienced, the added disappointment in finding a child only to “lose” that child.

There are days when I feel enveloped by it all. The lack of control over so much of the process seeps into any vulnerable crack. I question my resolve to see it through. I feel angry and lost.

Fifty-five minutes pass by in class. I’ve pedaled twenty-two miles and have taken countless breaths. My muscles are warm and loose and I feel tired in a good way. My mind eases into a calm place.

“Leave it on the bike,” he tells us. And today, I do.