so scary

I wrote a very long, eloquent and moving passage about this...in my head. It calmed me. I relaxed. It served its purpose...

and now I can't seem to pull it out of the vault to put it here. perhaps it was just meant to be private from the start, but I'll give you the jist.

I've been conflicted about exercise and weight gain (mostly exercise, honestly. I don't care what I weigh as long as I'm fit)...and doing alot of research about what's appropriate during pregnancy.

the consensus among anyone medically responsible or even remotely medically related has been that climbing, riding and skiing are off the list.

the consensus among climbers, riders and skiers is that you can do whatever the damn well you please.

I wanted reassurance. answers. data. knowledge.

I've been driving myself up a wall, and beating myself up over my lack of activity in early pregnancy (which I suddenly and hopefully PERMANENTLY stopped doing this afternoon when I sat across from a woman, obviously suffering from wicked morning sickness, looking like it was all she could do to keep living...let alone sending a 5.10 or riding 12 miles). I was sick. I didn't feel well. I laid around moping...and I've lost some fitness.

ok. fine. I can deal with that. but I need to know what's safe to do NOW.

I thought I found my answer. my saviour. a doctor who has done 15 years of research with recreational and competitive athletes before, during and after pregnancy. his results were clear.

keep. on. moving.

his results, however...were based on runners and aerobics instructors...and didn't address at all my favorite activities.

either way, armed with the body of knowledge gained from his first 5 chapters...I got back on the pony last week. I hiked, ran (yes. I ran. I hate running. I have no idea what got into me), rode and sweated.

25 minutes into our hike/jog...I got cramps.
50 minutes into our ride I felt like my baby was suffocating.

I just didn't feel like there was any way on earth I was bringing in enough oxygen for the both of us. I tried to console myself with the research (the basis of which states that yes the babies DO suffer oxygen dep...but ultimately it makes them stronger and more adaptable vs. brain dead and gimpy)...

but I just couldn't do it. I felt like I was being incredibly selfish...risking my baby for my own adrenaline/endorphine needs.

then I noticed my baby wasn't moving.

so i went home and read chapter 6. the chapter that talks about the baby's stress response to moderate/extreme maternal exercise...and gives you the warning signs.

if you cross your anaerobic threshold (miss suki's outta shape...so this is quite likely)...the baby can experience adverse effects. (I won't go into details...cause honestly, it seems intuitive. I shouldn't have to. I shouldn't have even had to read that damn book, but I digress...)

It boils down to this...no fetal movement for 30 minutes or more after exertion = cause for concern.

my baby didn't move for hours...and hours...and hours.

it took me a full day and a half to stop spazzing about that. positive visualization. that's all I could do. even I had detached the placenta...medical science could do nothing for us but pat my shoulder and nod sympathetically...I had to wait it out.

today I heard the heartbeat and rejoiced. the baby's ok.

then a second later I mourned.

we're encouraged as athletes to push through pain, suck it up and push ourselves and I've lost the ability, but not the desire, to do so. I don't quite feel like myself without my ballsout, badassness (or my muscles and abs, now that you mention it).

I see incredibly fit women who are pregnant. I see them in magazines, in ads, even in my neighborhood...and I envy them for either the balance they've been able to strike, or their lack of immobilizing concern about their unborn.

I'll ride, again, and I'll try not to feel guilty. I'll climb moderately and try not to think my baby is being choked. I'll wait it out and get fit again when it doesn't cause me so much stress.

hell, I'll even suck it up and swim and take yoga...

but I won't be able to shake the feeling that a piece of me is missing for a while. it's worth it. I love this baby. I love what my future holds. I love the fact that our family is preparing to welcome another stinky, burpy little member. I love that we're going to raise this child to face fear and be strong.

but despite all that...

I'm just not me unless I'm pushing the envelope.