Christmas Miracle...sort of

I can do this again!

Don't laugh - a week ago I couldn't even get my leg off of the ground.

May your Christmas be equally miraculous.

Phase 2, Competitive Nature and a Revelation

After 9 days of strolling on the treadmill and maxing out around 1.25mi it's time to increase the mileage and this week (at least yesterday and today) has been outside pushing the Muppet around in his fly stroller. Enter phase 2. Yesterday's 1.5 felt so fantastic that today I went for another loop for a whopping 2.25mi. At 3 weeks PP (postpartum) I'm feeling decent. Not great, but pretty darn good. I'm getting stronger day by day and I realize how far I have to go. When I feel like pushing my limits I remind myself that I only get one chance to do this right and I don't want to spend 2010 injured out of stupidity and vanity. Some days that's harder to remember than others; particularly when I catch a glimpse of my naked self in the mirror.

I've picked my comeback race, although I am still holding onto my registration money until I run that first PP mile. A bit ambitious; it's a trail 10k. The other day the husband asked if I thought he could be ready to run a half marathon in March (the day after my 10k). I responded with an 'of course' and realized that my competitive hackles were up. My wheels started turning and my quads started to twitch. Could I be ready for a half in March? What about February? Let's remind everyone for a minute that I just had a baby 3 weeks ago...and I did NOT run through my pregnancy. I live on a slippery slope. Fortunately for me I had a railing to hold on to before I ran to my laptop to sign up for half. Repeat after me...supportive, not competitive...at least for now.

And lastly, I must confess...I ran approximately 15yds today on my walk. It was awful. Since college I've carried around an extra 10lbs. I know what those 10lbs feel like and I know how to work with them. The extra 30lbs in addition to that extra 10lbs?? Suck. In 15yds I felt like my ass was hitting my shoes. There is an obscene amount of junk in this trunk and it's going to need to go away. And I know it's going to take a while.

So, what is my revelation? Exercising when you are overweight is HARD (I didn't say this was a startling revelation). And I have a long way to go...9 months to put it on 9 months to take it off.

Learning Curve

I made it to Friday! The Muppet and I had our first week with the husband away at work and we came out unscathed. I will admit that there were moments of 'wtf did I get myself into.' There were also moments when I thought that a second dog would have been a smarter move. But what new mom hasn't had similar thoughts? Particularly one who is trying to breastfeed a hungry, hungry baby...all. the. time.

But slowly, the Muppet and I are figuring each other out. And we like each other. A lot. :)

We don't have much of a routine yet, but we have actually left the house together with great success. There have only been a couple of epic diaper fails...one as part of a trifecta.

Picture it: An explosive crap that immediately starts to leak out of the diaper, through Muppet's outfit and on to my pants. As I move to get him off of my lap he begins to spit up all over the place. Once he is stripped of his clothes and put under the faucet (because seriously, there weren't enough wipes in the world for this mess), I place him back in my lap to dry him off...when he pees all over me. Awesomeness.

And on the workout front I am currently on day 8 of walking on the treadmill. Almost time to up the mileage...to 1.25. :)

Your Vacation is Over

So, uh tomorrow is Monday. And the husband is going back to work, meaning that I will be all alone with you know who. *insert spooky music* Things have been going pretty well around here, minus the feeding frenzy that I'm trying to manage. Honestly, why didn't anyone tell me how insanely demanding breastfeeding can be? You guys were holding out on me, weren't you? Growth spurt #1 has come and gone; I made it. But just barely. H.O.L.Y. C.R.A.P. I'm just sayin' a little heads up would have been awesome.

Moving on.

Muppet is my little old man. He likes to wrinkle his forehead up and look at me as though I've completely lost my mind. (and yes I know that his vision isn't exactly 20/20 at the moment) His little gassy smiles are precious; I only wish his poo smelled of roses. He's growing every day, though I think he's growing in length as opposed to pudgy baby goodness. Amazing.

As for me I've been trucking along on the treadmill the last few nights. 1 mile of walking at a whopping 3mph. It's been pretty great to tuck the Muppet into my husband's arms and sneak down to the basement for a mile of activity. Three days in a row so far - super coolness. Hopefully this will continue once the man starts work; everyone needs a little treadmill time. :)

And that is all the news from my street. Hope the blogosphere is having a fantastic holiday season!

A Week Already??

My goodness how fast this week has flown by! The Muppet has been out in the world for a whole 7 days. I've already forgotten about how badly labor hurt...I remember that is absolutely sucked and was excruciating, but I have zero recall when I try to remember the pain. The brain is a powerful piece of anatomical machinery. For now we're trying to get the Muppet back up to his birth weight; he's lost almost a pound and I must say that breasfeeding is kind of and exhausting process. I think (fingers crossed) that he and I are finally getting it figured out.

In working out news...I can walk a quarter of a mile without struggling. That makes me an athletic hero by the way. The little walk is a daily ritual that is great both for my physical state and my mental state. Amazing what 5 minutes of fresh air will do for you. Gradually the distance and time will increase outside AND inside. My new shiny treadmill is downstairs waiting for me. Once I'm 2 weeks postpartum I'll test it out with maybe a half mile. I am only allowed to walk until my 6 week appointment. FOUR of the six doctors in my practice made sure to tell me this...probably because I mentioned my treadmill about 3 minutes after the Muppet entered the world. Turns out the doctors are now watching me like a hawk.

So that's the latest and greatest. Everyone is doing just fine, slow and steady baby steps.

And Then There Were 3

For 41 weeks and 1 day my body was an incubator to a little boy. On December 1 the hubby and I finally got to meet him...and what an entrance he made.

Tuesday:

Early, early, early on Tuesday morning the man and I loaded the bags into the car and headed to the hospital. I was scheduled to be induced at 6am, so I made sure to have a quick snack before we got there. Labor is such a mysterious thing and there was no way of knowing how long the process would take. It felt oddly similar to driving to a race. Dark and quiet morning, quick fuel, lots of anticipation and visualization. We exchanged a few comments of disbelief - we were really going to the hospital to meet our son - and joked around. I need humor when I'm nervous and nervous doesn't even begin to describe how I felt.

Once at the hospital I made a quick change into my lovely hospital gown and answered all of the requisite medical questions. I find that it is completely unnecessary to discuss living wills when one is getting ready to embark on the most terrifying medical procedure one has ever faced. Nothing like getting your HR up by thinking about dying on the table...

By 7am the IV fluids and Pitocin drip were in place. The husband was very 'helpful' by watching the monitor and commenting on my contractions. At this point it was rather comical because they were so mild that they weren't registering in my mind, just blips on the monitors.

8:15am, in comes my doctor to talk about drugs and check to see how things were progressing. I told her I wanted to go as naturally as possible, but I didn't want to rule anything out. She was completely agreeable to me going natural...this should have been my first clue. I was then stretched to 4cm and she made an attempt to break my water. Turns out my kid was wrapped in a hefty bag (the doctor's words, not mine) and she couldn't get the bag to break. She bid me farewell and told me she would be back in a few hours. Doc also told my husband that soon enough he wouldn't need to tell me about my contractions...oh how right she was.

10am I was minutes away from texting my sister to tell her how lame labor was. I was bored. The contractions were getting stronger, though I was rating them as a 3 on the pain scale and I was dancing along with the music on the Cosby Show.

10:30am More of the same.

11am Holy crap who put me in the hurt box?? The contractions were suddenly a bit nauseating and terrifying all at the same time. I went from a 3 on the pain scale to a solid 7 in a matter of minutes. Crawled back into bed and tried to settle my mind down. I was starting to doubt this whole no drugs thing, but I was still firm - no epidural. For those wondering why no epidural I feel the need to explain. One of my biggest fears is not being able to feel my legs. It stems from repeated sciatica and numbness in my legs. It terrifies me every time and to have it done to me intentionally was just not something I wanted to sign up for.

12noon At this point I had um, had a movement on the table and needed the nurse. I also told my husband that I needed drugs. I sat on the edge of the bed and sobbed into his chest. The pain was completely unbearable. I had no idea how far along I was or if this was just the beginning and that was kind of scary. Have you ever had a moment where you doubt your own strength? Yeah, mine was coming.

12:15pm The doctor came back to see me and wondered aloud if she was in the wrong room? Where was her tough patient that wanted to labor naturally? The one who wasn't feeling contractions at all just a couple of hours ago? Um, she's in the hurt box. The doc checked to see how I was doing...8-9 cm. I told her I needed drugs. She reminded me that IV drugs would effect baby's responsiveness. She reminded me that the other option was an epidural which I still didn't want. She reminded me that this was my decision and mine alone. She told me to get through the next contraction and we'd talk about it. I was convinced during that contraction I was going to die (the mind is a powerful thing). And then she told me the news...I was now at 10cm, no possibility of drugs. It was pushing time.

In that moment every ounce of strength I had in my body and in my mind was just gone. I had zero faith in my ability to push. Zero faith that I was going to get this boy out. I actually hoped in that moment that he went into distress and they cut me open, simply because I had quit on myself. It was pretty awful and those first few pushing contractions were more like sob fest exclamations of 'I can't do this.' So, I wasted a few contractions because I didn't believe I could do anything to change my situation.

My doctor tried to distract me by asking about the tattoo on my foot. I told her I didn't want to tell her what it meant...it's the Chinese character for strength. Well, if that didn't get her going!! Good grief I was really in for it. 'Okay marathoner/triathlete with the strength tattoo show me how tough you are...' I was completely screwed.

So, with the husband holding my left leg and the nurse holding my right leg it was business time. Well...okay, I had a towel over my head and I was crying, but I was starting to at least put a little something behind my pushes. They tell you not to strain with your face and upper body, I totally pushed with my head and am paying for it now with what feels like a pulled neck muscle. With my support team basically telling me to 'suck it up buttercup' we got to the point of the last few pushes when my doctor told me she needed to cut me. I didn't want an epistiotomy and my husband knew it, so he asked the doctor if I had other options...she said I could push for a really long time without one because their wasn't enough room. I looked at him and told him it was okay. I needed this kid out. And so with that the scissors came out. More ouch.

After 30 minutes of pushing I reached the end. Seven hours after I arrived at the hospital there he was. Purple and crying, alive and well. 9lbs, 8.6oz, 21.5in. A healthy and strong baby boy. My son. Our son.

World, meet the Muppet.

Plus 5

Five days overdue. Sigh. I'm okay, really. I've only freaked out once a day this week. There usually comes a point after dinner when I absolutely lose it. Partly because I want to meet my little muppet, partly because I want to not weigh 210lbs anymore and partly because of the discomfort. Sometimes, it's hard to determine which part has the largest impact on my mood.

All in all I've come to accept that medical intervention is going to happen. Nothing is certain and everything I've 'planned' for this pregnancy has gone a different direction. A life lesson that I knew going in, but tried to deny. Turns out I can't control the universe...who knew?! ;)

So, unless I miraculously go into labor in the next 60 hours I'll be induced at 6am on Tuesday morning. Positive thoughts welcome as always. See you all on the flip side.