Week 33: Spin, Baby, Spin!

Little One,

Daddy asked if I had a wall ball in my tummy, too.

You are getting bigger and bigger every week, so big that total strangers are no longer afraid to mention the fact that I'm pregnant (a lady at Home Hardware asked me when I was due, then showed me pictures of her new granddaughter on her iPhone). I guess it's not something you can hide at 33 weeks! The funniest thing is how the shape of my belly changes, seemingly, day to day, depending on how you're lying. I'm a little bit frustrated with the health care system right now, because the doctor couldn't tell if you were head up or head down, and they won't do an ultrasound until 37 weeks to determine if you're still breech. In the doctor's words: "Baby is really low in your pelvis, but I can't tell if it's his/her head or his/her bum!") Even more frustrating is that I can't tell! I have a feeling that you're still breech based on where I feel most of your movement, but I'm not certain. This week I'm amping up on my baby spinning exercises, and next week I'm seeing a chiropractor for a hip adjustment to promote a head-down entry into this world. All of this stuff is so scary right now because I've never been through it before, but I just have to trust that you'll come into this world the way you're supposed to, and as long as I do what I can to make sure your delivery is safe, the medical world will work its wonders, too.

We had another fantastic Crossfit Open experience again this past Saturday - 13.3 was 150 wall balls, 90 double-unders and 30 muscle-ups in 12 minutes. I went in planning on 10 wall balls a minute for a score of 120 - I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to talk the whole way through. Imagine my surprise when I hit 150 wall balls with a minute and a half of time left - and I managed to crack out 53 double-unders, beating my score of 167 from last year with a score of 203. I couldn't believe it - I had the stupidest grin on my face throughout the double-unders (lots of photographic evidence of that) and I was again blown away by the support of my teammates. Being able to continue well into my third pregnancy has been such a blessing. I couldn't ask for more!

Last night, I held P & K's baby M who's two weeks old. I rocked and rocked him, totally in awe at how tiny he is, and even more in awe that you'll be coming along in 6 weeks - give or take a few. Daddy said last night he's sick of me being pregnant ("it's just gone on long enough") and he sanded your dresser (his old one) without me nagging him too much to get it done, so it looks like he's getting anxious to meet you, too. Stay safe in there... we're anxious to meet you but we can definitely wait a few weeks. :)

Love,

Mama

Weeks 31 & 32: Energy & Exhaustion

Little One,

I'm writing this on a Monday morning, sitting at my desk at work when I really should be photocopying for the day. Today's one of those days where my hair is disheveled, I really don't feel like being here, and I could probably nap all day if given the opportunity. But tomorrow? Tomorrow I could be jumping off the walls, excited, energetic, and happy. That's what the past two weeks have felt like - a pendulum swing between exhaustion and energy.

One highlight of the past two weeks has been participating in the 2013 Crossfit Open. I recognize that through my pregnancy, although I've remained relatively fit, I've lost a lot of my physical capacity - I can barely squat without my hip flexors feeling like they're on fire, and most days, it's very difficult to drag myself to the gym (so difficult, in fact, that I end up just going home to bed.) But since getting pregnant, I knew that I wanted to keep up with my fitness as best I could, so I committed to participating in the Crossfit Open. The first workout - a 17 minute chipper of burpess and snatches - was one of the best days of my pregnancy. I felt so full of life and spirit. The second workout - a 10 minute AMRAP of 5 75# push press, 10 75# deadlifts and 15 box jumps (step ups, in my case) felt equally as awesome - even after a sleepless night and two full days of grad retreat exhaustion. I don't know what it is, but I'm happy when I'm exercising. I'm not happy when I think about exercising, and I'm not happy when I'm dragging my lazy bones to the gym, but once I'm in that workout, I feel fantastic. I think you like it, too... at least I hope you do. You're good at telling me what to avoid - some days, kipping pull ups are not your favourite (ouch, does my tummy ever get tight!) but other days, you're like, hey, go ahead with your kips. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to keep Crossfitting througout my pregnancy and I can't wait to get back into it fully once you're in the world.

I think it's safe to say that within the next 3 weeks, I'll be saying that I'm sick of being pregnant. I'm not quite sick of it yet, although that thought has fluttered through my mind. The more babies that are born around me, the more excited (and nervous) I am to meet you. I love the feeling of you wriggling around in my tummy, but I can't wait to see what you look like, what you smell like, how we interact, and what our family is going to be like once you're on the outside with us.

I was at a silent retreat in Lethbridge this weekend, and during directed prayer from a spiritual director, I had an image of myself and your father holding you - the three of us protected by a ring of flame. I know that God's love for you is so powerful and inexplicable - I just hope I can see you with His eyes and love you with His heart. Better start practicing now - it's gonna be one of "those days" so if I can approach it with a smile even when I just feel like sleeping, I'll be able to get through whatever trials and tribulations come my way through your birth... and your life.

You're sleeping right now... wish I could be right there with you. I can't wait to feel some more of your wriggly squirming as the day progresses - those are some of the best moments of my days lately.

Love you,

Mama

Week 30: The Scariest Moment of All

Little One,

Growing up, I was often told to "slow down or you'll get hurt." It's advice I never really took to heart, although once in a while I catch myself moving too fast and that voice will pop into the back of my head, forcing me to evaluate just how careless I'm being for the sake of speed and I will slow down - at least a little bit. Throughout this pregnancy, I've been pretty active - not as active as I would have liked to have been, but exhaustion slows a person down some. Ultimately, though, I was told through the events that unfolded this past weekend that I'm definitely moving too fast, and it's time to slow down and savour these last 10 weeks before your arrival.

Yup, we were ice fishing, your father and I. Yup, it was a slow day (as 90% of them seem to be.) After a few hours or sitting around a nice fire and chatting with friends, I was gearing up to leave when all of the sudden the flag on my tip up sprung up. Yup, I sprung up as well, and began ambling nimbly (as nimble as a 7-months-pregnant woman can be) toward my tip-up. I began running - not quickly, mind you, but quickly enough that any kind of stumble would cause me to fall.

And that's exactly what happened, thus beginning the scariest few hours of my entire life.

It seemed like it happened in slow motion. I couldn't catch myself from the slight stumble, and I toppled forward, landing directly on my belly. I was in shock. I felt sick. I feel sick now, just typing about it. Okay, so I've eaten hot dogs and peanut butter during this pregnancy, I've taken hot baths, and I've probably done a million other things I shouldn't have done. But this - this was different. I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and failure. I was bawling, praying that you'd move inside of me. And you did! That brought me minor relief, but I was still incredibly upset. Your dad did an amazing job trying to soothe me and calm my fears, but I still felt horrible. I called Alberta Health Link, and a nurse did a great job assessing me, calmly following up by telling me I needed to get to a hospital (they tell all pregnant women who sustain falls to go to the hospital.) I felt better because I didn't experience any pain or bleeding, and you were wiggling away inside of me as per usual, but I needed to get myself to the hospital ASAP just to make sure. I hopped in the TrailBlazer and zoomed back into Brooks from Crawling Valley Reservoir, in tears the whole time.

Upon arriving at the hospital, I made my way directly to Labour and Delivery, where they promptly hooked me up to a fetal monitor, assuring me that everything was fine - I'd see in a few minutes. As those few minutes progressed and I recorded every time I felt you move, I also began noticing something interesting happening at regular intervals - yup, my uterus was contracting. Every four minutes. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to have the nurses call in the doctor, who checked to see if I was dilating (I wasn't), and who put me on medication to stop the contractions. An "upset uterus", he called it.

After an hour of waiting then another 20 minutes of fetal monitoring, the doctor determined that the contractions had stopped. He gave me another dose of medication to be taken at 6 am, with instructions to return at 10 am for another round of fetal monitoring. I went home, feeling very shaken and upset, but happy that you were okay. The fact that you were moving and that your heart rate was fine brought me so much peace and happiness. And it hit me: I love you, and I don't even know you. I worry about you, and you're not even born yet. You're a mystery to me, but I feel such a connection to you that your safety is my primary concern (um, and yeah, I definitely won't be ice fishing pregnant again. EVER.)

Six a.m. rolled around and my alarm went off. I woke up nauseated and shaky; a side-effect of the medication, I told myself. I popped the pill and fell back asleep. When my alarm went off again at 8:30, I called your daddy right away and asked him to please come home and be with me - I was so nauseated and ill that I didn't think I could drive myself to the hospital. By the time dad arrived home, I'd already thrown up twice. Third time? In the TrailBlazer on the way to the hospital. Fourth time? In a garbage bin at the hospital.

After an uneventful fetal monitoring session (no news is good news), the doctor came to see me again and I begged for something to quell the nausea. "Nausea?" He looked at me skeptically.

"Yeah - I figured it was a side-effect of the medication."

"Well, it could be, but I doubt it. This medication is not known to cause the kind of side-effects you're experiencing. It sounds more like you have a stomach bug."

Of course. A stomach bug. Perfect timing. Doc sent me home with some gravol (which I promptly threw up; I should have accepted the needle in the butt) and daddy bought me my favourite Gatorade: red. Red's the best flavour to throw up. It's sad that I know this, but it's the truth: if you know you're gonna throw up, you might as well enjoy the taste of what's coming up, and red Gatorade has exactly the right flavour. Not yellow, not blue. Only red.

Twelve hours of puking, and I was back at the hospital for an ultrasound. By this time it was Monday, and the puking had stopped. The ultrasound tech did his thing, and so far, everything appears okay - no placental tears, no damage to you...

But I still feel sick to my stomach every time I think about that fall. And this isn't the kind of sickness whose edge can be taken off with some red Gatorade. This is the painful part of love - the part that never wants to let you down but knows it will happen; the part that wants to protect you but will inevitably cause you pain. My biggest fear about being a parent is hurting you, and it's already began. It's going to be a lifelong journey... and I have so much to learn. I'm sorry my selfishness lead to this, I'm sorry I haven't slowed down more to enjoy you growing inside my belly... I'm sorry, and it's time to slow down.

Love,

Mama