The First 12 Weeks

I am officially in my 13^th week of pregnancy which marks the first week of the second trimester. Today I found myself wondering exactly where those first 12 weeks went. Oh yeah, I vaguely remember them from the nauseated and exhausted fog that has only recently been lifted.

My first pregnancy was a dream – I got nauseous a total of 2 times, that’s it, no vomiting, no nothing. This time it is extremely glaring the toll that being an “older” pregnant woman can really take. I took a pregnancy test two days after the scheduled arrival of my monthly period which put me in my 5^th week of pregnancy. Almost immediately (like after I recovered from the shock that it had really happened and I’d taken a second test just to be sure….) I was nauseous at the slightest smells, if I got too hot, if I got too hungry, if I drank my morning cup of beloved coffee, and pretty much if the moon wasn’t in perfect alignment with the other heavenly bodies. It lasted all day making me scoff at the whole term of “morning” sickness. I found fun ways of keeping it at bay including never leaving my a/c climate controlled house if I could avoid it and eating small evenly spaced meals heavy on the protein which kept it manageable at best. Luckily for me, no vomiting! I say lucky for me since I can’t think of many things I loathe more than vomiting and can tell you the exact date and time of the last time I did because each time I give into it and lose the battle it is memorable.

On top of all the queasiness going on, I was SO exhausted ALL THE TIME. Since I work full time there was no option for a nice little nap in the afternoons and most often I would find my head bobbing at my keyboard in the afternoons anyway. By the time I got home from work I only had energy to sit on the couch with my feet up and usually would end up napping with a break for dinner before it was time for bed. I, the ultimate night owl, was hitting the sack before 10pm and sleeping until 7am just to be able to make it through an 8 hour day of work. The worst part of being tired to the point of it being debilitating was the now GLARING EVIDENCE of what exactly I do around the house. No more Mom running around behind the 7-year old picking up the leavings of meals, folding the TV/couch blankets, fluffing the pillows on the couch, making sure the dirty clothes are in the hamper and the towels picked up off the bathroom floor, loading the dishwasher or doing laundry on a regular basis. Nope, none of that was happening and as a result our house looked like it had been invaded by the trolls of filth.

Because of all the queasy and tired crap going on, I was barely able to keep up with my exercise routine – which probably pissed me off the most if I’m really being honest. Come on, after all the hard work of sticking to an HCG regiment and losing 30 lbs, you’re telling me I can’t even keep up my running so I can keep my figure for as long as possible? My 3-times a week running was reduced to leisurely strolls around the neighborhood and then only if I felt up to it. On top of that was the nagging question, should I really be running still now that I was with child?

At week 10, we had our first doctor visit and saw the little peanut on ultrasound. It was very reassuring to watch the flutter of the heartbeat on the monitor with proof there really is a baby in there and that things looked normal for as far along as I was. Of course it wasn’t all flowers and butterflies because during all the verification of pregnancy and seeing the evidence, there was also a ton of blood I had to give – I think 8 vials in total! – the pee in a cup routine AFTER the discomfort of being poked and prodded with a full bladder and let’s not forget the horrible reality check discussion about how I’m over 35 which means all sorts of talk about genetic disorders and additional tests we might want to consider. Ok, so I’m not QUITE 40, but my odds of having a chromosomal defect have significantly increased since the last time I had a baby at the ripe old age of 29. At least we didn’t have to make any decisions about that… yet… but it is right around the corner if we are going to do early testing. The good news of the hour was that I really can continue running with my doctor’s blessing until I don’t feel up to it anymore. My running shoes thank him so we can continue our love affair!

The other memorable and somewhat frustrating issue of the first 12 weeks was how quickly I started “showing”. I can officially no longer fit into any of the pants that I could wear when I found out and I have the beginnings of a distinct baby bump. There is nothing more absurd than the cost of maternity clothing that you will wear for about 6-8 months and then toss in the goodwill pile except how early I had to start buying and wearing them this time around. I didn’t start needing maternity clothes with my first baby until about my 5^th month and this time I was in my 2^nd month. The only sanity saver is that from talking to other expecting moms on their 2^nd plus babies I found it is apparently normal to show earlier with each pregnancy. Something about your uterus having already once expanded to accommodate a growing fetus sends it racing to the finish line the next time around. I guess if you have to be gaining weight because of pregnancy it is nice to have something tangible to show for it in a protruding baby bump.

So, that in a nutshell was the first 12 weeks for me but I am happy to report being one of the very lucky few who must endure these early pregnancy symptoms ONLY in the first trimester. About week 11, I suddenly stopped and looked around and realized I was coherent and not nauseous. Hey, when did that happen? Who cares, really, I’m just going with it and thanking my lucky stars… AND running every chance I get and trying not to obsess about the fact that I have lost weight since my doctor’s appointment. I’m eating healthy and that’s all that matters anyway!

Social Experiment - in Review

The long anticipation is over… because I’m assuming at least one person who reads this blog has been waiting anxiously for my follow-up posting about my little social experiment! Here’s a synopsis of what’s going on:

First the big news: After 7 years and at the ripe old age of 37, I am having another baby.

For those who don’t know me or my reproductive history, an explanation is in order so the rest of the experiment makes more sense. I have a single daughter, who will be 8 in the fall. When my husband and I conceived her, it was PURELY on accident-as in UNPLANNED-as in CAREER RUINING-as in COMPLETELY DIDN’T SEE THAT ONE COMING! We had been married 7 years so it wasn’t scandalous but for me it was life altering. Among the hordes of women surrounding me pining away for motherhood or basking in its glow, I was an island of “I don’t really want to be a Mom” that most people couldn’t understand – and I was practically 30 already so figured I was getting out of that one without really ever having to make a scene about it. Of course, looking back on it, I would never change it and I am glad it happened the way it did because otherwise I would have totally missed out. BUT STILL, I am a very unconventional type of Mom. One who works full time as a professional and doesn’t see anything wrong with it. (Did I mention I live in Utah?) AND, on top of that, was COMPLETELY content with only having the one and spoiling the ever-living-shit out of her because that’s what I had always wanted as the oldest of 4 children growing up. (Of course, I wouldn’t trade my siblings either!)

Now you have the history … fast forward to about 2 years ago. It was about the time I lost my maternal grandfather and started thinking about mortality and how I, myself, would face losing a parent when the time comes. The most comforting thing I had to fall back on was the fact that I had aforementioned siblings to handle it together. Which of course made me start thinking about my beloved daughter who, because of my decisions, wouldn’t have that when she lost us. So, we started talking. Now my husband is just like me – sometimes almost frighteningly so – so we had always been in TOTAL agreement on the size of our family. When I broached the subject assuming a rebuff and some comment about had I lost my mind thinking to start all over again, he surprised me that he’d also been thinking that he would be the end of his family name if he didn’t have a son and all other such nonsense that we’d never cared about before now. (Perhaps we had finally grown up? Nah!)

About six months later we made the decision to pull out my IUD (sorry, I’m the daughter of a nurse so if discussing such delicate matters as choice of contraception bothers you, consider yourself forewarned now…) I’ve already mentioned I come from a large family – it is also the tight-knit type of family where every time my brother and his wife decided to conceive a child, we ALL knew about it and knew when they started and practically the day the pee-stick turned pink proclaiming the impending birth. HOWEVER, that is so not me so we told not a single soul. (Ok, there were 2 or 3 VERY VERY special people in my life who might have known we were trying but I don’t want people to feel bad!) Which turned out to be the best decision we ever made because the next 18 months were an emotional roller coaster of anticipation and horror when each month it didn’t happen for us. Of course, all I could think about was the irony of GETTING KNOCKED UP ON ACCIDENT vs the experience of “trying” to conceive again and being foiled. We had pretty much given up. AND I had reverted to my previous selfish ways - and was totally into myself having lost a ton of weight and getting hooked on running - and was over the whole thing of having another baby.

And THAT was when it happened…

When we stopped “trying” and just “did it” whenever we felt like it and didn’t care about getting pregnant (and truth be told, hoped now that it wouldn’t in part of my mind!) it just sort of happened … like magic almost. (Girls, if you’ve always just listened to your mothers tell you that IT ONLY TAKES ONCE when telling you to wait, it is horse shit! There is such a tiny little window each month when it actually can happen… I had spent years and years preventing birth and then was shocked at finding out just how hard it is to actually make it happen! And now that it has happened – with all the charting and tracking and equally stupid horseshit that goes into it, I STILL don’t know how it happened because we totally blew “the window” that month!)

The social experiment itself consisted of watching people’s reactions to the news and watching the patterns of how and where it spread on its own. My family was completely shocked… some even asking me if I was kidding (like I would kid about something like this!) That is how convincing we had been for years that one was enough and we were D O N E – DONE. Some people were amazed we had been trying and hadn’t told anyone (why is the concept of keeping your private life private so foreign to some?) The couple of people I would classify as “non-childbearing on purpose” in my life actually stopped and asked me if this was happy news or not before offering their congratulations (that was so me 10 years ago and made me feel like despite everything I was still sane!) Interestingly enough, the news did not travel as far as I expected such juicy gossip to spread in my neighborhood social circle (and for this I love them all for it!) I told a couple of closest friends fairly early and asked they not share it. Then, at about 10 weeks, I spilled it to my Facebook crowd and even a couple of weeks later when we were all gathered for book club there were some who were hearing it for the first time. Now I am not naïve enough to discount that some may have known but concealed their prior knowledge well and were able to pull off appropriate reactions but in my gut I think that was the exception rather than the rule.

So, in short, my social experiment proved my theory wrong about the ability of women to keep exciting news to themselves. It almost renewed some of my faith in humanity! And, it further endeared to me my little crowd of women with whom for some of them the only thing we have in common is our love of reading. I will also say I am happy some of my cynical nature was proven wrong because honestly I can’t always be right about the human experience, right?

So, embark with me on the journey of pregnancy – soon to be chronicled in vivid detail here…

Another 5K

Officially, this was my secomd 5K since I did Race For the Cure back in May but it didn't quite count since I couldn't do any running. No such restrictions for the 5K on the 4th of July and 25 lbs lighter this time around! It was a timed event and divided into divisions - based on age, lucky me! *wry grin* The race started at 6:15 am - it wasn't even light outside when we left! - and the weather was beautiful! I was able to run probably halfway with fast walking in between. I turned in an official time of 51:09 and was 21st in my division. I was trailing right behind the last of the runners and staying ahead of the fastest walkers which for me felt pretty damn good. Already planning another one for August with tons of time in between for training to increase my distance. Allergy season is kicking my ass but I am not letting that stop me. I heart running!!
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Social Experiments

Ever wonder just how far and fast news travels?  I have some fairly major news of a personal nature and I was initially trying to “keep a lid” on it, so to speak.  While that worked when I hadn’t told a single soul, the minute I spilled the beans to even the most trusted people, the news started spreading like wild fire.  Of course, my control-freak nature was screaming that me and me alone should be the one to disseminate this very personal information to every single person who inevitably would learn of it.  When that didn’t happen, my social animal nature decided instead to turn it into a social experiment.  I am now keeping the same news to myself but am watching with major interest to see the patterns of how and where (and how far) it spreads.  I will post the news – as well as the results of the pseudo-experiment which could really just be called an observation in human nature – in a couple of weeks.  In the meantime, it is pretty entertaining stuff!  Stay tuned…  and if you are one of those who happen to fit into the category of a reader of this blog AND already know what’s up with me, please don’t spoil the fun by posting comments that could give it away?  Again, there’s my control freak nature rearing its ugly little head…

Breakthrough... Finally!

I did it-something at the start of this crazy running journey I thought I would never be able to do. I stretched and psych'ed myself up and walked out my front door, dog in tow, and started running. Fifteen minutes and a mile later I stopped running. Holy shit it felt good and truth be told I could probably have pushed myself and gone further but was on a time schedule. It was true what 'they' say: working up to being able to run the first mile straight is tough, but here's hoping the next one isn't quite as long to get under my belt. Who knows, maybe I'll do more running than walking in my next 5K on the 4th of July next weekend.
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Personal bests

Sometimes I think maybe I should just get out of my own head and quit worrying about stuff! I felt like a wuss for a week taking it easy on the training while suffering pretty severely from allergies and then Thursday night was out with my walking/running partner. Because I still was pretty stuffed up we did a brisk two-mile walk and were catching up on where we are at with our manuscripts - very enjoyable. When we met up with a fellow jogger at the beginning of mile 3, she decides she's going to jog (which is fine because I can power walk almost as fast as they were going to be jogging) and they set off and pulled a little ahead. Without having any time to psych myself out, I just said "what the hell" and started jogging with them. 3/4 of a mile later, I was still pushing myself and keeping up with their pace. Oh GOD did it feel good! And my first mile run is lurking around the corner, waiting for me next week or the week after-I just know it. The best part is that because I've actually taken it easy for the last week, my foot didn't hurt the next day and I think the plantar fasciitis is now at bay as long as I train smart. It is funny how this love affair with running works but I wouldn't trade it for anything!

In other news, I just submitted the first 6 chapters of my manuscript to my writing group for feedback. I've been working feverishly the last few weeks after finally working through many holes in the plot line and re-writing EVERYTHING I had written prior to January. At this rate, I might even have a completed manuscript by the end of the year.

Frustrations of Training

HCG regiment is winding down with only a week left in the stabilization period at which time I can eat starch and sugar again.  I finished the injections with a total of 24lbs lost and am wearing clothes I haven’t fit into since pre-pregnancy.  For the last two weeks I’ve been able to easily maintain the weight eating regularly again plus I’ve been able to run and really train.  I got a fabulous new personal trainer keychain – not that I’m pimping anything but if you want info on it, check out www.nextfit.com – and went away for a long weekend to a spot where there were tons of empty dirt roads where I could run every day.  Which I did, and with the help of the trainer I was able to double my endurance doing walk/jog interval training.  Was feeling fabulous the first night – even ran with the hubby – did 2 miles and was on Cloud9.  Went out the next day and knew it wasn’t a fluke because I was able to run longer distance in the same time allotment.  Fabulous!  Until the next day when I got out of bed and my foot hurt so bad I couldn’t walk on it…   Apparently I am now suffering from yet another running ailment most often caused by increasing your mileage too quickly called plantar fasciitis.  WTF?  So, I took a few days of rest and ice – more rest than ice but, still, the resting is the hardest for me to adhere to!  Went out again last night and was feeling so down afterwards!  The foot felt pretty good and was only a little tender this morning.  However, I was running with my long-time walking partner who on the outset was NOT excited about running.  Now, with what looks to me like minimal effort, she is able to run faster and longer than I am.  Of course, her long ass legs and her singer’s lungs are definitely advantages I just don’t have.  We added another friend last night who also – even on HCG and cheating at the running part – is a stronger runner than me and part of my inspiration to start running in the first place.  I felt no apprehension about her coming along knowing she was on HCG and “couldn’t” run.  But, she is not the stickler for rules I took her to be and they both kicked my trash!  We got one jog interval under our belts and I was sucking wind like a novice.  Again, WTF?  I had to cut the run short to get home to a sick child and then felt dejected all night because I couldn’t keep up.  Thoughts orbiting my head had the semi-constant theme of finding some excuse to just run by myself from now on so I don’t have the constant reminder of “you aren’t a strong runner” right next to me.  These thoughts were still there this morning when I awoke and hadn’t really faded over the morning at work.  As I sat at my desk fighting to breathe through my nose and resigning myself to the fact I just might be coming down with the head cold the rest of my household has had for the last week, a light bulb went off.  I was sucking wind last night because I am all stuffed up!!  I was all up in my head for no good reason…  I know I would miss being pushed to do my best if I gave in and ran by myself.  Besides, my book would certainly suffer since the walking intervals are devoted to plot outlining and discussion with fellow writers.  So, I’m still on the training circuit but won’t push myself until I’ve recovered from whatever has me all stuffed up.  Ah, the frustrations of training that come in so many forms!