I Never Wanted to Be a Mom

I never wanted to be a mom. At least, not in the typical sense. My husband and I began dating when I was only 15.  We joked often that we didn't want kids. Only, I wasn't joking.  We actually recently stumbled upon a video of me saying how much I disliked kids. I think the word was HATE kids.  Oh sure, there were times when we said we would have one and my darling of a husband, E1, would stay at home. You know, daddy day care while mommy was out with some killer corporate gig.

I didn't plan on things happening like they did, that's for sure.  Around six months after E1 and I said our "I-do's" I started getting that itch. At first it was an annoyance, like dry knuckles in late January. Eventually, the itch was flaming on-the-bottom-of-your-foot-but-you're-wearing-boots kind of itch. Luckily, E1 and I soon realized we were on the same trajectory. Just after our first wedding anniversary we went to an early breakfast. He asked the question I had said no to a dozen times over: Do you want to have kids?

Yes.

Wow.  Me too. When?

Now. 

I wanted a kid NOW. We settled on trying to start a family with the upcoming new year.  Except, about six weeks later, we learned I was already pregnant with our first son, E2. Talk about a Divine Plan. 

E2 proved to be a handful and a heartful at the same time. Before his second birthday we were already trying for number dos. I had decided with an even stronger conviction that I was ready for a sibling for our wild man.

*

Infertility is a bitch. It's so fucking frustrating to be able to get pregnant so easily the first time, and then have such a struggle to get knocked up a second time. The ass kicker was, twice I got pregnant. But I couldn't STAY pregnant outside of late first trimester. I'm not retelling the story now as I do frequently, but you can read about my last miscarriage experience here. I can honestly say, I went into a deep depression more than even I realized. I was a hollowed shell of a wife, mother and friend. I wasn't remotely myself.

Eventually things turned around. We got to start trying again. Each month more rode on the line, but each month had hope. Hope, really, was all we had. We had decided we would try three cycles with the help of hormone fertility aids before moving into the more invasive IUI and IVF treatments. Quickly we found ourselves on our third and final round of "natural" cycles. E2 was now three years old and begging for a Baby Brudder.  Each time he said it, my heart cracked a little more.

Then, the day after my 10 year high school reunion (which I drank way too much at), and my birthday I took a test, again. The third one that week. It was surprisingly double stripped. I was pregnant again! I already had my appointment scheduled with my OBGYN for the next day. It was to be the day I was introduced to my fertility specialist. There was no need!

I had a miserable bitch of a pregnancy with E3. I didn't care. I was induced at 41 weeks and wouldn't wish being induced on anyone. It was awful.

E3's heartbeat was all over the place during induction, wouldn't stay on the monitor and Husband Dearest was a jittery mess. After 16 hours of transitional labor I finally dilated from a three to a ten in less than two minutes. The doctor had to run across the hospital parking lot to make the delivery. I pushed once.

E3 was not born breathing and was slightly blue. I remember like in a dream Dr. H saying "don't hold your breath on me" and the look on Husband Dearest's face. Then he cried. A screech and a cry. A quick wipe off, a snip of the cord and immediately at my breast to nurse.  Just shy of 10lbs and not as long a big brother, our little Pinecone (E2's nickname for E3) was here.

*

I never wanted to be a mom. As I sit on the couch not quite 9 months since that day with a big kid resting on my shoulder and a little one dreaming in his crib I can clearly say that I was put on this earth with a purpose from God. The purpose was to be a mom to my sweet boys.

Eli: A Race, er, Birth Report

Cramps.  The, I have held my pregnant pee too long cramps. At least, that's what I thought it was.

Saturday, the 24th (Lil' Dude's official due date), I went to my pedicure lady. "Massage me." She agreed. It was time. There's this old wives' tale that having your feet massaged will bring on labor. I need a cut and polish anyway.

Husband and I had a relaxing afternoon. Went to bed at a decent time. At some point, that's when the cramps started.

By 5:30am, I had decided they weren't pee cramps.  Still laying in bed, snuggled together, we started timing them. Seven minutes. Six minutes. Five. They were consistent. And getting closer.  I said I wanted breakfast. Husband climbed in the shower.  I knew a trip to the Big Biscuit would never happen.  I made us a breakfast at home. One way or another, this would be our last Sunday breakfast as Eric and Courtney. We knew next Sunday we would be The Staton Family. Bittersweet.

I paged the on-call doctor.  I knew it was going to be Dr. Dickhead, the OB I switched from. My own doctor called me back instead. "Well, if there's a bit of bite to them, come on in. We'll check you out. Worse case, you'll come back tonight." My terrific Dr. Lady had switched on-calls with Dr. Dickhead. AWESOME.

We arrived at the hospital just past 9am. Husband walked in holding my hand. I told the nurse, as she hooked me to a monitor, that I wasn't sure if they were real contractions. There wasn't much in my abdomen area, but my back hurt like hell.  Her response: "Uh-oh."  That's not good.  She checked me for dilation and effacement. 2cm. Maybe 60%. Not numbers you want to hear when starting labor. I had made no progress from the previous week's OB appointment. After a quick scan over, she confirmed my back pain. Sunny side up. Straight OP. (differences here) Back Labor. Lil' Dude was kicking and squirming and giving no relief. Like a squid in my stomach.

I was told to walk. So I did. Husband and I walked the hallways. And walked. And walked. The contractions were getting stronger. And stronger.  I needed to sit. Then I was hit with the WHAMMY. Pain hard enough to make tears roll from my eyes, and vomit surface in my mouth. This is the real deal. After 90 minutes of waddling, and eventually needing to stop during contractions to focus only on breathing, I was checked again. Almost 4cm, 80%. Progress, but not much. Dr. Lady decision time: Well, you're coming back tonight anyway, so why make two trips? Let's get some active labor started. We were well past inducing, now, we were augmenting. Whatever. I just want my baby!

I was moved to a room where we would remain for our stay. The pain was getting tough. Dr. Lady broke my water. It was painless. I even asked "Would this hurt?" but she was already done. I was hooked to an IV tower, and told to walk some more.  I made it about 10 minutes. I was still on the no pain medication train. Barely. I agreed to Stadol. But I wanted to use the birthing ball and whirlpool tub first. I made it through one contraction on the birthing ball. Fuck the tub. Give me the narcotic.  It made me itchy. ITCH-EE. I was given Benadryl. The combination of Benadryl and Stadol made me sleepy. During this time, Eric called the fams. My dad and grandma came in. I mostly remember it. I was hurting like hell. My contractions were now double peaking, something that comes with back labor. I was "sleeping" between contractions, and waking right in the peak. So, I was out for about two minutes and yelling in pain for two minutes. Effing A. I remember saying something along the lines of This Fucking Sucks. Sorry grandma.

Get me the epidural.    NOW.

Eric held my hand.  Well, he held still while I tried not to break his bones. I recall during a Stadol coma contraction him telling me that there are pins in that hand, and he can feel them. Sorry honey. Let me take a second to say what an amazing, huge, terrific help Eric was. He never left my side. He held my hand through every contraction. Stayed right next to me. Perfect. They kept me turned half on my side hoping to get Squid to roll over. It didn't work, but they kept me in that position.

The epidural was painless. Not that I would have felt anything besides the explosion rocking my core. All was right with the world once I had my epidural. I still felt every contraction, but had full control over my legs and could feel the "urge to poop" coming on. I wasn't numbed entirely. Exactly what I hoped for. At 3pm, the time my epidural was administered I was at a 6, and almost 90% effaced. I took a nap.

At 4pm they came in to check me again. My nurse, an angel named Shannon, told me it was time. Dr. Lady agreed. You're at a 10, 100%. Let's have a baby. You're ready to push.

Whoa. Shock waves. Can't believe it. I'm about to have a baby!

The nursery nurses came in. There was a little meconium in the fluid, so they wanted to be sure they were ready in case the Squid needed to be intibated. That was a scary thought, but I figured the best I pushed, the less likely he would be to inhale any goo.

In my birthplan I had expressly said NO to a mirror. But once I was ready to go, I asked for one. I am SO glad I did. The first couple pushes are practice really.  The nurse asked if Eric could count for me. He did and did great. I did ask him to count slower. I wanted to push for as long as I could in every contraction. There wouldn't be any pushing for four hours BS here. Squid was ready. Husband did get up the guts to look in the mirror one time. It was maybe a bit much for him.

After 35 min. Shannon said STOP. STOP STOP! I panicked. I could see his head! The Dr. Lady was scurrying into her gear. I had to sit out two contractions. That was awful. I could see his hair (OMG! beautiful dark hair, just like my husband!). I reached down, I touched him. I bawled. I was moments away from mommy-hood. Gathering myself, I readied for the big transition. Here we go. I looked at Eric, he started counting.

One contraction.

Two contraction.

50 minutes of pushing. Here's your baby.

The emptying of your abdominal cavity is the craziest feeling ever. I immediately felt lighter, yet as if I would burst open. The nursery nurses looked him over. He inhaled no meconium. He was wailing. It was amazing.

Eric got to hold his hand while he got cleaned up. Then he was able to hold the Squid while the placenta delivered (no, we didn't keep it to eat it. Google that. No, don't) and my stitches were completed (2nd Degree. Not fun, but not horribly awful.).

I was then given my little bundle. Little is kind of a loose term.
Our Squid weighed in at 9lbs 1oz, and 21.5" long. The measuring tape only went to 21". The nurses had to extend the tape out to get him measured.

Ten perfect fingers (that look like Eric's).
Ten perfect toes.

I am in love.

Eviction Papers

Waiting for the dr at the 39 week appointment.

Yes, I really am this amazing looking.

Eric, waiting oh so paitiently.

37 weeks

Well, here we are.  Week 40.  The end-all be all of pregnancy. Unless you go long.  We're going long. Luckily, we're only going a few days. 

Today, Dr Lady informed us we're still measuring big, as in currently at 42weeks (I say we- that's me, Lil Squid Dude, and Husband Dearest), and that, despite all of our best efforts to dialte and efface, we got nothin'.  Dilation maybe at 2cm., and effacement is the Berlin wall. Effing A. Even that thing got taken down.

Then, she asked the magic words:

How do you feel about induction?

I didn't really have an answer.  I desperately want a thru-the-hoo-ha delivery, and prefer to go no drugs.  However, if the squid is growing at the rapidly expanding rate that he is, my little fatty will be too big to squeeze through these hips of mine.  Thus, induction is our best chance.  Inducing is scary though.  The rates of c-sections do increase.  But having a 9lb baby would also increase the odds of a tummy delivery.  We're gonna take our chances.  Dr Lady feels confident.  We'll go with that.

I have an eviction notice now issued for our Lil Squid. Papers to be served Sunday 8 PM. He can leave on his own anytime he wants.  However, Monday armed guards will be removing him from the premises.  My grandma swears Full Moon means baby deliveries. Look at what I found today:

Full Moon Phase:  2010 Jul 26 01:38 Mon

Either way, I'm gonna be a mom soon.

Weird.

Professional photos courtesy Monika Herbert at MONPhotography.com

All the Pregnant Ladies

Watch and enjoy.

ELF Says It Best

Like so many of my brain dead moments, instead of coming up with my own material, I'm choosing to plagiarize.

"Shortly thereafter I broke down in tears. I know I need to just last it out a little bit longer and I know that I’M ALMOST THERE. But I’ve got to be honest with you. This is one of the hardest things I have ever done. And I’m not even at the hard part yet! I felt weak for crying but at the same time, it’s kind of like in Ironman training when you find yourself stopped in your long run, 30 minutes away from the end, crying because you’re hurting, because it’s hot, because you know, dammit, that there will be no more relief for another 30 minutes because there is still work to be done. You know you’re going to get back out there, finish up the last 30 minutes and suffer because that’s who you are. You don’t give up. And when you’re pregnant, giving up is not even a choice.






There is no DNF.






Like in training, you’ve got to let yourself hit rock bottom, bounce back and prove to yourself, ok I can do this. I can last it out a little longer, I can push a human out of me, I can take care of that human for life. And the scary thing is that if I can do all of that I know…I can do anything."

To read the full entry, click here for Liz's blog.


Heading to 38 week check up or whatever the feck week it is now.

Sprinkling labor dust to Schwartzie, who's due today. Read about her here.

Crunch Time- 17 days to go

Right now I'm feeling a lot of pressure. Both internally and externally. There's two types of internal pressure: The mygutisgoingtoburstandababyisgoingtoshootoutorImightpoopeverywhere pressure, and the GottaGetItDone running laps in my head. Luckily, everything at home is well taken care of.  It always makes me think of the poem 'Twas the Night Before Christmas when I start to mentally list off what's done.

'Twas the weeks before birthing, when all through the house
Not an animal was stirring, not even my gigantic dog;
The crib sheets were folded, the Halo Sacks washed,
In hopes that Lil' Dude soon would hurry the eff up and get here.

I know, I know. Poet I am not.

However, at work, I feel like I'm struggling to get a head. Budgets and revenue and all that mambojambo is fine. I have great staff that has helped to set up up for a terrific year. We're well ahead of the curve (and most of my peers, thank you very much, not that it's a competition or anything okay okay, everything's a competition) and things should be running smoothly whenever I leave (Now!? ugh, nope not yet). But I still have these little projects- Testing Recertifications and Parents Handbook for the association- that I have to accomplish. Technically this stuff isn't due until the end of August, but I'm definitely going to be unpregnant and sorta busy by then.

Side story: One of my water fitness instructors keeps telling me I'm going to be late. That's fine, but she says I'll be late like her. As in, she swears she was 6 to 8 weeks late with all three of her children. Grant it, she's a little older and kind of senile, but there's no effing way she went 8 weeks overdue. And she swears she knows when she got pregnant: She says the morning after she "did the nasty" (her term, not mine) she woke up throwing up and knew she was pregnant. Okay, so add bat shit crazy to the list of things she is... along with being the lady that stands naked between the double mirrors at the sink in the locker room shudder. This woman also attended BURNING MAN last year. She's 70 something.

Anyway, I'm scrambling to get these months long projects done, and do the day to day things things sometimes take days (I waited for a pool inspector for 6 hours yesterday. That was 6 hours I spent basically twiddling my thumbs instead of getting my normal duties done, which I now get to do today). Something's gotta give somewhere. I once heard the analogy that directors are professional plate spinner's, trying to see how many plates we can have going at once, and eventually, hope the one's that we drop aren't the big ones. I think that's the most accurate description of my job. Not that it's a bad thing, per se, but it makes life very entertaining to say the least.

 

If I can manage to keep the big plates from falling, we're doing okay. At least until I come back in October.

 

I keep telling husband that I wish Lil Dude would just come out.  But he had a valid point last night. "You should be enjoying the moments you have to yourself right now." I have much to learn, Obi Wan Kenobi, because that was so true. Luckily, he's giving me a lot of space to enjoy those moments- yesterday I came home, sat in the glider in the nursery and finished a little light reading (Actually it was pretty rough- Tina dropped off a copy of The Lovely Bones when she was down. It's amazing, but no easy summer read). Then he cooked a Delicious Bass aka Chicken Kabobs and spicy potatoes. After dinner, we set off separately with the dogs to try to encourage a little pelvic-engaging action. I had a woman in the neighborhood actually called out to me from her porch step that I should "Go home and sit down, before that baby falls out." Seriously, lady? I don't even know you.

 

That was the plan, though. Encourage Lil Dude to fall out.

 

Last night, before going to bed, husband asked "Are you going to go into labor tonight?" All I could say was I hope so. No such luck.

 

I did get up to pee five separate times though. I may be approaching a new record.

Yep.

Still pregnant.





Damnit.

If I Were an Oscar Meyer Weiner

* So, Texas gets it's very own full distance Ironman. First race is May 21, 2011. I'm not sure how I feel about all these IMs in the US. There's just so many. I loved it being more exclusive. However, it does provide a lot more options. And, should I ever get to do another IM, a spring one might be the only thing that really works for me. Considering how much I work, specifially in the spring and summer, I don't have the time to devote to training. Not to mention I will need LOTS of time with Lil Dude and Husband, plus household crap, I think spring might be the best option. So, maybe 2012? http://ironmantexas.com/





Off the top of your head, how many Ironman races will be held in the US in 2011? What about in North America? Answer will be at the bottom of the post.





* My dad's 52 birthday this year happens to fall on one of the coolest sporting events ever: Motocross des Nations. And guess where it is: Lakewood, Colorado! http://www.mxthundervalley.com/rev/?page_id=256 This event is usually held in some totally awesome European venue, and this year it's back in the 'States. I know he wants to go. I know husband wants to go. I actually kind of want to go, but not sure if Lil Dude would be into the 10 drive in a motorhome (I wonder if that thing even runs...) at 9 weeks old. I may have to just sent pops and Husband.





*Tomorrow Husband and I are taking our maternity pics. And, of course, I went in to get my nails done, and they were in such bad shape, nail lady said to soak off the acryllics, let them heal, and redo them in a couple weeks. Le Sigh, I really wanted pretty nails. I should take better care of my hands. Then there's this swollen pregnancy face thing. It just started about three days ago, but I have puffy jowels, and a swollen bridge of my nose. It doesnt help I have a honkin' zit right there, but seriously. And my feet and ankles have puffed considerably... but nothing like this lady:





I mean seriously. That's just fat feet, right?

* I have to pee.

* I'm just under 36 weeks now. So, I am giving Lil' Dude until about the 10th of July, and I'm running stairs and doing jumping jacks. He's gonna get an eviction notice soon. To help, I've started taking Evening Primrose Oil Capsules this week. Julie's doula recommended them, then they were on my list of things in birthing class to help induce or ease into labor. Here's something I found regarding the practice:

Evening Primrose Oil and Red Raspberry Leaf Tea
Neither will actually induce labor. While some lay midwives will argue that statement about the Evening Primrose, which is the reason it is not recommended until 36 weeks or "full term", almost all sources with experience agree that it does nothing that the body was not ready to do on its own. I will repeat this at the end of this section, to make sure you understand this, as there is a lot of confusion and misconception surrounding these two substances.
Evening primrose oil is an excellent source of prostaglandins, which we already determined readies your cervix for labor. It can be taken orally as soon as 34 weeks, and can be applied directly to the cervix at full term (36 weeks). The general recommendation is two 500mg capsules per day until week 38, at which time you increase to 3-4 per day. The entire capsule can be inserted vaginally (inserted just before bed, it will dissolve before the first time you wake to use the bathroom), or you can use the oil on your fingers for your perineal massage, then also rub on your cervix (assuming you can reach it). Applying directly to the cervix is optimal, but the beneficial ingredients are absorbed through the external skin or the stomach also.
Red raspberry leaf tea is a uterine tonic used by Native Americans for thousands of years. It tones your uterus by helping to "focus" your Braxton Hicks contractions. Think of its job as helping your uterus do more effective exercising while you are pregnant. It does not "cause" contractions and can be safely used throughout pregnancy. It is contraindicated for those having complications "just in case", however, by most doctors who do not understand its use. Many women safely use it from the moment they learn they are pregnant at six weeks until months after delivery. (It helps to tone the uterus after delivery as well, shrinking it back to size more quickly and reducing bleeding.)
Again, neither of these actually causes labor to start.

Just to clarify: I'm not sticking capsules up my hoo-ha. They are taken orally, thankyouverymuch. Still in search of: Red Raspberry Leaf Tea (Pregnancy Tea). Julie and Chrissy have both found the tea, so I'm going to get them to get me some. I went on an exploration that included Consentino's, Nature's Pantry, and Hy-Vee, all to giagantic fails.

* I may or may not have tried on my boob pump. Yes, it will suck something out. I didnt turn it up high enough to see if it would suck something out right now, but, I'm pretty sure it could. I also stuck the vaccum displayed at birthing class onto husbands arm and pumped. I think he might have a hickey the size of a peanut butter jar. I started laughing really hard because I couldnt figure out how in the hell to release the pressue. We are *that* couple in class.

Answer:

US Ironman events, including Kona: 9.
North American events: 11.

Over It.

I'm so over it.

Pregnancy isn't horrible. Everything is fine (minus the excessive Braxton-Hicks, the mild swelling of my feet and legs, and the new puffy cheeks), but really, I have nothing to complain about.

But I'm over it. I just want to have this kid. I want to see him and smell him and hold him in my arms instead of my uterus.

I also want my body back. I mean, I get that I have to share my body, or my boobs anyway with the lil' dude and lil' dude's dad (hell it's the truth), but really, I'd like to have a little more control over my body.

Aside from getting thru daily life for the next four months plus, I have started having new dreams. I have now twice dreamnt of doing a figure competition. Hubs and I very briefly discussed it, and after making silly muscle man poses in our living room, he agreed that it will be a great and challenging way to get back in shape post baby, without taking the time away from Lil Dude and himself, like training for an IM would (or half IM, or anything that requires longish runs before it's warm enough to put Lil Dude in the running stroller... or bike rides off the

trainer). Soooo, me, next year, May-ish? :)

In other news, I went to watch KS 70.3 June 6th. It was a beautiful day for racing. Mostly overcast, not incredibly hot. Chrissie Wellington knocked another out of the park. She set a new course record of 4:07.49. Um, that's like FAST. .. crap, I was going to post pictures, but I just realized I left my camera in another bag.

Alright, back to worky jerky I go. Wooo hoo.

Me. An Update.

This is me.

28 weeks

30 weeks

31 weeks

31 weeks.

While Eric was taking pictures, Zeus came in an plopped down on the ground. He is the saddest looking dog. He obviously knows that something's up.

I've officially gained 21 lbs. My goal was 25, and I'm going to pass that, but I'll still be way under 60 lbs. I think I'll end up somewhere around 30 lbs., which is healthy I suppose. I definitely got the dreaded stretch marks. I didn't honestly think I would avoid them, but there was this little glimmer of hope. The belly button is still quite in (except for when Eli kicks right behind it- not only is that painful, but it actually flattens out my BB while his foot is there. Fuuuurreeaakky.). I took our my navel ring. Only because when someone (usually unwanted) touches (grabs) my stomach the first thing they would say is, "Oh MY GAWD! Is that your belly button!?" Then I'd have to explain that it's my belly ring, and I'd get all kinds of reactions:

Can I see? - No.

Why are you still wearing that? - Because I can.

That's bad for the baby? - You're Stupid.

Can I see? - No.

I have stopped running. Which is sad, but, well, it's... HARD. I get in a swim every so often, but that's really it. I'm going to try to get out and walk more, but this heat and humidity is ridiculous. For my own enjoyment, I want it to be mild this summer, however, for my work's perspective, I need it to be hot as hell. Not sure what we'll get.

PS here's a reminder: This was 7 weeks.

Goals: To Set, or Not to Set

Goals should be a attainable, achievable. Something that when you reflect on them, you know you can make, no matter how difficult the path to checking them off may be.

When I was 18, I really wanted to do figure competitions. Well, having some cheerleading/dance/gymnastic background, I was thinking more about fitness, than figure. But I'll get back to that. Figure competitions, themselves, are sort of silly. They consist of dozens of women from 18 to Grandmas strutting their stuff, literally, in rhinestone bikinis and clear stripper shoes. The pose, not in the bodybuilding type poses, but more of a "Look at how muscle x is separated from muscle y, but there are clearly no striations, because that would be body building.." I dunno, maybe not. However, these women are the fittest looking ladies you'll ever see. No, they don't look like this all the time, that would be damn near impossible. But, coming up on show time, they cut and lean like it's no one's business. I could be wrong, but I think about 70% of the training is actually nutrition. Eating this meal, at this time, for this purpose. It's amazing.

So here's what I'm kind of thinking about: I'm seven months el pregneato, due in July. I realistically probably wont be doing much of anything athletically for a while. Okay, a couple months. As much as I want to say a couple weeks, we all know that's bullshit. There's stitches and stuff, and ya know, as some friends pointed out, you generally will want to shower and shave your arm pits instead of going for a run. (PS, babies can't go in running strollers when they're a couple weeks old. That means you can't leave unless Husband is available to watch the Little Dude). I digress.

I have found a little information online, most of it about contest prep (looks like a 12 week program). I'm gonna need a pre-pre-prep course, and then a pre-prep. But, it looks like, if I really buckle down, get in workouts when I can and WATCH MY NUTRITION to support myself and the little nipple suckler I hope to have, I may have myself ready to start some type of program come, oh, January or February. Let's do the timeline, shall we?

Give Birth: July 24th ish

Maybe consider some type of workout: September 18th (8 weeks. I also realize this reduces the likely hood of me running the Kansas City Half Marathon in October- at least at any reasonable speed)

12 week prep date: Feb 1, 2011

Prospective date of competition May 2, 2011: I know there's one today, so I'm just setting a year out.

Doable? I dunno. I've emailed a few people, some trainers, some competitors, to get their thoughts. I really need to know what's realistic. I won't do it if it will take away too much time from Little Dude. I want to be healthy and happy. But I also don't want to lose sight of my athletic self. I know training for IM won't be in the cards for a while, and I want a challenge like that.

So, I might have a new goal for next spring. Or I might not. Before I can say yes, I need to know what is achievable. For now though, I'm not telling myself no.

I Miss It.

I really miss triathlon. I did two tris last summer. I was busy, had other plans. Now, more than ever, I miss it. As the weather perks up, and spring mornings remind me of my pre-dawn runs before work, and the warm breezes of evening usher in the smells of the grill- which, believe it or not, remind me more of riding my bike thru Lake Lotawana wishing I was grilling, than of the food itself- I want to training. I want to be racing.

I'm starting to reach a point in my pregnancy that makes me think "Oh crap, nothing will be the same." I know it's all for the better. This was something I wanted bad, but just didnt expect to happen so soon. Now I'm wondering if I did enough living pre-parenthood. I know my life isn't over, thank God, but I also know I can't just pack up and go for a bike ride when I get home from work a year from now.

It's too early for me to start planning what races I'll attend, and mostly if my mind, body and family will stand for another Iron distance race next year. I'm doubting that, and looking more toward 2012. That would be five years from my first Ironman. I can't believe it's been three already!

Yesterday, I was mulling over race results from the Boston Marathon. My old neighbor qualified last year and raced. Looks like he did well. I was thinking to myself if I would ever be fast enough to qualify for Boston (no). But what about Kona? My chance was probably in the 18-24 age group, which, I have now left (le sigh). But, I think I have a much better chance of making it in triathlon, than in running alone. And, probably in the half distance, thru courtesy of a rolldown... okay you're right this is all wishful thinking. If I'm going to Kona it's by lottery. And, it will probably be ten years down the road. But that's okay. Because, according to Bree Wee, moms are faster anyway.

I keep telling myself that I can do the Kansas City Half Marathon in October. I mean, I did a 10k at 20 some weeks pregnant, so I can struggle thru a half sans baby in belly. Part of me, the sick, sadistic part, says to race the full, but I know better than that. Right now, I need to sit back and relax. Let myself be hungry for triathlon again.

25ish Week Update

Nothing new other than a couple scary things that happened last week that really weren't all that scary. Here's the ever growing bump. I don't understand how I'm going to actually get bigger. I've gained more than just 12lbs: apparently Stretch has met two friends, Mark and Mark Jr. I'm curious to see if all the Cocoa Butter and Vitamin E helps. If anyone wants to send me a tub of Mederma, go ahead. I also I become like a character in my favorite saga Twilight. I am paaassty. Gross. My skin, too, hates me. Although with enough Acne Free and Proactive, anything is possible, right? Pretty sure when I go back to racing, I'll have to apply for sponsorships from Mederma and Acne Free.

Here we are. 25ish weeks.

Stolen: Things People Say

This is stolen straight from the ELF. Click here to see her blog.


Monday, March 22, 2010

Things People Say
WARNING: Very sassy, sarcastic post ahead!I’m going to start a Twitter account called “things people say to me while pregnant.”Call me a little sensitive, a lot vulnerable and sometimes so uncomfortable with feeling so big and uncomfortable but is it just me or does it feel like pregnancy gives people a license to say things to you that they wouldn’t otherwise say. If you are pregnant or have been pregnant you know what I mean. And know why I'm begging for a little more discretion in dealing with the pregnant woman please.Now, I mean no offense. Really, I don’t. Please forgive me of all sass because I am, after all, pregnant, raging with hormones and about to make my 14th trip to the bathroom for today. But here goes, a (long) list of things people say to you when pregnant....

#1 – Anything said about weight gain by the woman who is not pregnant nor has ever been pregnant.Telling you that you only need 300 more calories a day when pregnant. How soon until you can shut your piehole? There are things you don’t know. Being pregnant changes your body. That doesn’t mean that I am nose deep in ice cream every night nor going to stay “fat” for the rest of my life. It just means that there are things you cannot control in life and this is one of them. The body will do what it wants to do. If and when you get pregnant, we will see what your body will do. And I will be there to help you count those 300 extra calories a day.
#2 – Anything said by a man about his once pregnant wife.Don't tell me your wife only gained xx (read: very few) pounds in pregnancy. There is no medal for delivering without drugs just like there is no medal for gaining the least amount of weight. Either way we all get the same thing at the finish line – baby. I gained her total pounds before week 20. I got there faster. Know what that means? I win.

#3 – Anything said by a man about your weight gain.Things like – wow, you’re really getting big or wow, every time I see you, you are eating. I ask you though – when does he have to give up many things that he likes in life to become 25+ pounds bigger with a small mammal growing inside of him. He does not. And because of that, the proper thing to say is "wow you look beautiful" or "gee can I get you some more _____(what you are eating)."

#4 – Stories from your mom about how she finished her pregnancy at the weight you started at. Nothing more needs to be said.

#5 – Stories from the woman who gained over 50 pounds while pregnant.To some extent, she is my hero. She looked at the angry ocean of pregnancy, said fuck it and jumped right into a bag of chips, a gallon of ice cream and whatever the hell she wanted every single day. She knew she was going to be uncomfortable no matter what so might as well go at it full tilt. I have a friend who gained 75 pounds while pregnant. When I asked her how she accomplished that amazing feat she admitted it took a lot of Cinnabons and Oreo McFlurries. THAT takes balls.

#6 – People who say “If you keep ______, that baby’s going to fall right out.”Let’s see: the baby falls out or I spend possibly 36 hours pushing it out while shitting myself. I’ll take my chances.

#7 – People who disagree with your attitude that as soon as you enter the hospital, a source of drugs should enter your veins.It’s like talking to someone about god. Get ready to agree to disagree. I can’t say that I really care which way the baby comes out, just as long as it comes out. There’s a lot of things to feel guilty about in life (tapping into free cable from Comcast, eating the last spoonful of Nutella, blowing my nose on the indoor track at the gym when no one is around), taking drugs during labor is not one of them. There will be plenty of Mommy-guilt every time I want to take my eyes off my kid for the next 18 years.

#8 – Someone who doesn’t realize you are over 5 months pregnant until you tell them.Is this an insult or the best compliment in the world? Happened to me the other day. I’ve seen this guy every 2 weeks or so since December. When he asked if I would be riding my bike outside this week, I told him I can’t do that anymore. His face turned white and he said “you aren’t?” Well, I have been for the past 22 weeks! Does this mean that he sat there for over 5 months thinking to himself, wow, she’s really packing on the pounds or am I hiding what has to be 8 pounds of placenta, 5 pounds of boob and 4 pounds of edema THAT well?

#9 – Once pregnant women who tell you that your _______(enter body part) will never be the same.News flash: after gaining what feels like 100 pounds and watching the skin of your stomach migrate to the next zip code outside of your body, it will never go back to its original state. You mean – that 60 buck tub of cream from Pea in the Pod wasn’t blessed by magical anti-stretch-mark elves? Please let me believe that everything will just snap right back into place.

#10 – When someone informs you that “you are starting to show”.I’m starting to show. Really. Funny because when I looked down today and couldn’t see my vagina I was thinking that I might be able to hide this FOR THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. Amen to showing – finally I can stop feeling like the chick who’s getting a little bit of chubchub around her waist and move on to the we-can-finally-ask-her-when-she’s-due-without-embarrassing-ourselves category.

#11 – Women who kindly inform you that being pregnant in the summer is hell.Because I haven’t already lived through 25 summers in the ass crack of the Midwest summer, these women remind you that being 30+ pounds overweight, bloated and waddling through a 90 degree day with 90% humidity is not as fun as you thought it would be. Neither was the marathon at Kona but I still did that in a Boston qualifying time. Both times. Thankyouverymuch.

#12 – Incessantly being asked “how are you feeling?”Imagine greeting someone every single time with how are you feeling. It’s not just that they ask you the question, they lower their voice and say it in such a way that you think that you might just look AND feel really bad. You think to yourself: am I dying? What you really want to say is: I feel f*cking amazing. How do you think I feel. I’ve already gained 16 percent of starting my body weight and I haven’t crapped in 3 days.

#13 – When someone asks, “are you sure you should be doing that?”If I could walk around with freedom to say that to anyone in the world, imagine the responses I would get. To all smokers, fast food eaters, texting while driving drivers, people posting their workout stats as part of their Facebook status update: are you sure you should be doing that? One night, I took a sip of wine and someone said “are you sure you should be doing that?” Listen, if that’s all it takes to harm this kid then he’s in trouble. I've got a 10-lb killer chihuahua living at my house.

#14 – Stories about how labor is godawfulmostpainfulmessynightmareGosh, I was thinking that squeezing a watermelon through a hole that used to make me think – how will I ever get a tampon in there – will feel so good I’ll shove the kid back in so I can do it again.

#15 – “You look great.”Really? Do I REALLY look great? Don’t lie to me. This is like when a spectator tells you that you look great at mile 18 of the Ironman marathon. No I don’t. I’ve been sunburned, pissed myself a dozen times and I am so desperate for salt I am licking my arm for the sweat. I look like hell rolled over me. Here's the deal: you don't look great, you just look pregnant.

#16 – Being reminded that I’ll never _____ again (sleep, go out to eat, have sex, take a vacation, live a normal life).I would imagine that taking on the responsibility of another life involves sacrifice. This is why we waited 10 years to have a child. We’ll make the sacrifices. Life will change. Like most change in life, it will be hard. You telling me hard it will be doesn’t make me think it is any harder. I think back to the race course in Corner Brook. Everyone couldn’t stop talking about the EPIC climb on the course. Turns out that epic climb was something you could stomp up out of the saddle in your big ring. This will be hard but we’ll be the judge of how hard it is. If it’s really hard, I’ll bring my road bike. If it’s epic, I’ll put on my compact crank.

#17 – Stories about pregnancy from women who gave birth to twins (or more).Nothing they she says is stupid, in fact it’s pure genius. Higher value wisdom than she-who-gained-50pluspounds. She says it’s hard, she knows hard. She says she breastfed – two at one time, she basically double-fisted it. She says she didn’t see her vagina after week 12, she’s a legend.

#18 – After being asked how you feel and told you look great it’s only a matter of time before someone asks “when are you due”.I’m due when the baby comes out. He will come out when he’s ready to come out. It could be on a specific day but about 80 percent of the time it occurs after that specific day. So what this all means is that I have no idea when the baby will be born. You can now stop asking me. Every time you ask me it reminds me I still have ___ months to go before I can shed this fat suit. And when I tell you late July it inevitably leads to #11.

#19 – When your husband tells you that he'll still love you even if you don’t lose the weight.I know he means well. But that doesn’t mean I want to hear it. Let’s pretend like I lose all the weight in 3 days and I go back to being me again. Tell me you will only love me then because I’m a pretty competitive person and I need a little fire under my ass. If you tell me you’ll love me no matter what that makes me feel like I have permission to walk around looking 6-months pregnant for the rest of my life. Tell me to nut up and get my ass back in shape or something. Call me Chubs. I’m going to need some motivation.

#20 – Strangers who ask “have you thought about names?”Listen, I’ve had this child named since I was 12 years old. OF COURSE we’ve thought about names! But the real question is why should we tell? Chances are you’re going to tell me some story about a kid you knew in the first grade with the same name who stood in the corner eating paste while shitting his pants. Thanks for the visual. Now, what’s your kid named? Really? I knew a kid with that name who ate his own boogers every day at lunch.

Now, it's not all that way. Know that for all the crazy things people say, you get about ten times as many good things that make you feel warm beyond words. And, of course I write this with the sass and humor that you need to have when you realize that even your underwear doesn't fit you anymore or that you just got out of breath while bending down to tie your shoes. So, cheers to all the pregnant women out there. Carry on, no matter what they say and remember, the correct answer is always: I feel great. Repeat after me: I - feel - great.

Like a Basketball Wearing Two Cantaloupes

Like a basketball wearing two cantaloupes.

That's how I'd describe my body. Although, I haven't quite reached basketball status (more like half of it), my body is exploding. I've gained 10 lbs. Not that much, in comparison to normal gains of 12-18lbs at this point, but it feels like 30.

I'm 22 weeks. 18 to go. Hallelujah.

So, here I am.

7 Weeks, 1 day

14 weeks, 4 days(I was cranky, can you tell?)

16weeks, 2 days


18weeks, 4 days (Hello, Eli)

21 weeks

21 weeks, 2 days

Pregnant Olympian

http://sports.yahoo.com/olympics/vancouver/blog/fourth_place_medal/post/Canadian-curler-is-five-months-pregnant?urn=oly,219941

Tue Feb 16, 2010 10:33 am EST
Canadian curler is five months pregnant
By Chris Chase
As with all curling teams, Team Canada features five members. Well, six, if you really want to get technical with it.
Alternate Kristie Moore, 30, is 5½ months pregnant, making her just the second athlete ever known to be with child during Olympic competition. Ninety years ago, Swedish figure skater Magda Julin won a gold medal at the Antwerp Games while in her first trimester.
Though she is showing (as evidenced in the picture above), Moore says that her pregnancy has not affected her ability to deliver rocks ... yet. "[In] the eighth month or so, that might be an issue," she said.
Moore found out about her pregnancy weeks before team officials invited her to join Team Canada as an alternate. When she divulged her secret, the team was more than supportive. Said team leader Cheryl Bernard, "she is young and fit. There's no reason we'll have any problems, and she'll be out there."
Barring unforeseen problems with the other four members of the team, it's unlikely Moore will see any Olympic action. During competition her role as an alternate is much like a backup quarterback in football: She'll be called on if needed. Moore has said that although she'd like to get out on the ice, doing so would mean having to play at the expense of someone else's injury.
Team Canada is the gold-medal favorite in the women's curling event, which begins Tuesday and runs through Friday of next week. Even if Moore doesn't play, she will receive any medal Canada wins.

Swim, Work, Run

I didn't make Saturday's KMA like I planned. Had to run to the car dealership to get Joan Jetta inspected. Silly dealership, didn't have that done! They gave me a free detail for my time, though. Yay!

However, I spent most of Friday night and Sunday day nesting- doing some serious cleaning to the house. I'm pretty sure that counted for some calorie burning, right?

Saturday I hung out with the GrandLady. Then I went shopping with JMoo for Husband's Valentine's present. I finally got him one of those fancy black watches he's been dying for. I couldn't find the one I got him, but I looked sorta like this -------> ------->:

Ironically enough, he got me a beautiful white sparkly watch to match. He is amazing, isn't he?

Sunday Hubs got home from work at Anahiem 3 (the motocross race, if you follow that), and we had a lovely evening on the couch- just us and pizza. Perfect.

Today is a LONG work day for me. I got to work at 8pm, and I'll be here until 10pm. Ouch. I had morning lessons until 11am, which is draining, but fun. Afterwards I put in a 1200 yard swim, at a very each pace. My stomach is definitely draging, and my flipturns aren't quite as streamlined. Over lunch I got in a GOOD run on the treadmill. Finally! I hate the damn thing, but a show I love on MTV was on, and I just had to accomplish 45 minutes. I did it, I got it done, and I was over it. It's hard to stay motivated to keep running when your body and mother nature are working against you. I have the Rock the Parkway 10k March 27th, so I'm trying to make sure I'm at least in shape enough to wobble 6 miles. I'm pretty sure it's going to involve a lot of walking (A LOT), but I'm trying to be the fit mom. Thus far, it's working out okay, but I'm no Labor Ready Liz (OMG have you seen her!? Talk about IronMom!).

Later this evening I am teaching another CPR/AED course. Then my puffy butt will drive home and I will go straight to my pillow.

Status:

Good mood. Feels decent. Mood swings possible. Hungry. Happy.

I Can Shout It!

Okay, so I've been holding something back for almost two months now.

One of my most beloved and dearest friends, Julie, is also impregnanted. YAY! Let me tell you how awesome it is to have a good friend along for the ride.

She unfortunately got the pukey part of morning sickness (BTW, what MAN came up with the term, morning sickness? Seriously, it's 24/7), and I got the headaches. I can't wait for her to get to the "better" part that I have reached (or so I am told). She's due Sept 6- which is my husband's birthday. I'm ever so oddly scheduled to go just about on her birthday. See, strange how things work out!

She and I conqured my first triathlon together (Where we met, what love love love), our first "long" bike ride (it was about 12 miles, and we had to stop at mile 5ish because I thought I was going to die), first half ironman, her first marathon, our first Ironman, and my first open marathon together. I'm so excited we get to share this part too. That means, we can run with baby bobble heads together in an Ironman branded running stroller (duh, of course they make those).

So excited. Congrats, Julie and Dan! Love you!

Night Terror

The young man pointed at me, shouting "She's wearing a pink shirt! She's a pink shirt!" I ducked underwater and removed my top, putting the salmon colored cloth under the dock upon which the rat stood. "There!" I said, and pointed down at my.. pink shirt. How the hell did I still have one on? I didn't understand. About then, my husband scooped me up and put me back the kayak we had moored at the dock. We were but one of thousands, if not more, kayaks and row boats hiding under the dock, Bimini tops unfolded, trying to conceal our identities. The Nazi like military that hovered over us in their helicopters scanned our group of frightened refugees. The boat next to us inched out from under the safety of the dock's over hang. It was then I realized this was no ordinary boat. This boat was equipped with machine guns and artillery that would have made a 1940's gangster shiver. I heard myself shriek when the man squeezed the trigger aiming at the hovering helicopters above us. They then returned fire.

My eyes snapped open at the sound of my husband's voice, calling to me from the shower asking about a fresh towel. It took me a minute to adjust, and to realize I wasn't under attack from a Nazi regime, and that, in fact, I was cozied up in my sheets on an overstuffed mattress. It's nightmares like these that I keep having. Every night, something else. Before transitioning to the ocean standoff, I was digging bodies out of my back yard.

A few nights ago, I didn't have a head, and had to carry around my eyes in my hands to see.

Weird.

Par for the course, apparently. Studies have shown that pregnant women are more likely to have vivid dreams, often nightmares, brought on by the surge of hormones. What strikes me is how realistic these dreams are.

Twenty minutes after waking, I was in my laundry room ironing Husband's shirts. He had been calling my name repeatedly, but I never recognized it. Instead, I was lost in comparing my dream to the story line of Inglorious Bastards (One hell of a good movie, might I add). I finished my ironing, and came out of the room. As I turned to close the door behind me, Husband came down the stairs to make sure I was indeed still alive, as I hadn't responded once. He hit the bottom of the stairs as I was turning to make my way thru the room.

He looked at me. I looked at him. There was a pause. His expression was confused, but I know it only mirrored mine. Then I heard shrieking. Blood curdling screaming. It was me! WHY!? I jumped back and stopped. He looked even more confused. Then laughed. I laughed. I cried. I cried harder. He didn't understand why. Why did I scream? Why did I laugh? Why did I cry? The only thing I knew for certain is I was crying because I had piss running down the insides of my legs. Seriously. Husband coming to check on my safety scared the piss out of me.

So here's what I know: I have awful scary dreams that I try to rationalize while preforming household chores. Still lost in thought over scary dreams, Husband comes to check on me. I see him and scream. I start laughing. I am laughing over the ridiculousness of my screaming. I am crying. I am crying because I have pee streaming down my legs.

I have 22 weeks left of this!

Fashion Clean Out and Clean Up

I'm not sure whose song I prefer: Fashion, David Bowie style ("We are the goon squad and we're coming to town!"), or Fashion, Lady GaGa version ("I need some new stilettos, can't walk down the street in those!").

Doesn't matter though. I do love me some fashion. Not that I show it. I don't have the cash to spend on the designer labels, or rather I'd prefer to spend it on sporting goods, cars, and home accessories (and a OB/GYN labor and delivery bill).

Well, tonight is the night where I preform my semi-annual closet clean out. I do this about once every year to two years. Usually it's tossing ratty pieces or things I don't love anymore. Often times I hang on to t-shirts and jeans that I really don't wear but think I might again. Since I have a higher purpose of this clean out- to rid the spare room (AKA my giant walk in closet) of all things (seriously, this will be the baby's room so I have to get EVERYTHING gone), I am doing what I am considering a Holistic Cleanse.

Cleanses are usually done with foods or supplements to rid your system of toxins and waste. Well, this closet and dresser seriously need some ex-lax to get things going.

I will pair down a rather large closet filled to the brim of items that are poorly placed and rarely worn, and a huge dresser filled with size 30-32 men's board shorts (OMG, I used to wear those!?) and race t-shirts to the bare necessities.

I am using Tim Gunn's 10 Essential Elements to lay the base of my wardrobe, well, what's left of it. This will pretty much outline my work and dress clothing. I'll keep the majority of my workout clothes, and the 2 pairs of pre-pregnancy jeans I like the best.

As for the rest, we'll, that shit's gotta go. I'm going to need to do some shopping, which my husband so graciously agreed to do with me. I need to buy one nice pair of preggo jeans and a pair of work slacks. I can make do with a couple pairs of yoga pants and a top or two. I truly LOVE spring and summer dresses, especially long flowing ones, so I can pick up a couple that I can sport now and post baby belly.

I really won't have much left for when I get back to a normal size (which better be by November), so I will need to purchase items that fit as I go. Really, I have a lot of clothes that were great when I bought them... two or three years ago, and now I need to toss them, knocked up or not.

What I will NOT be doing, however, is spending $165.00 on maternity cut off jean shorts. Seriously? WTF?