I’ve been finding my eating a lot of Lara bars and the sorts lately. Between nursing, training, and life–it’s just so much easier the grab a bar between meals than to prepare a homemade snack. From a health perspective, Lara bars are excellent. They usually contain just a couple ingredients–all of which are whole foods and free of animal products. However, eating Lara bars everyday can get pricey (not to mention the packaging and environmental aspect). While reading the ingredient list on a wrapper the other day, I began to feel guilty about not making my own. So, while Leif snoozed in his baby carrier on my chest, I went for it…

These make for a great pre-workout snack and they taste like chocolate chip cookie dough–I kid you not!

Ingredients

• About 15 medjool dates, pitted
• 2 large handfuls walnuts
• 1 handful cocoa nibs or vegan chocolate chips

Directions

• Put nuts and dates in food processor and process unit it forms a sticky dough
• Stir in cocoa nibs
• Form into balls and place in covered container in fridge
• Enjoy!

After Leif’s birth, I focused those first few weeks on recovering from labor and delivery and learning how to be a mom– around the clock nursing, rocking, diaper changing, love. It was really hard but I vowed to embrace it because it would not last long. I was surprised at how quickly my body changed in those first couple of weeks. In less than two weeks, I was 22 pounds lighter from my last days of pregnancy. Most of that, of course was fluid, baby, and other stuff that left my body during delivery (hello big ol placenta!). Nursing quickly shrunk my uterus back to normal and within 2 weeks I was back in my skinny jeans (although they were a little snug ground the waist at first).

1,3 and 7 days postpartum

2 weeks postpartum

By the first of April I was ready to turn my walking into running and return to my workout class. The first run was 3 miles, pushing the stroller. The next was 4. I was elated to do pull-ups without all the extra weight of being 9 months pregnant. I practically flew over the bar on the first one (and then after pumping out several sets had to sit down because I was dizzy). I’m still healing a little and get sore in my baby pushing areas sometimes but feel great for the most part. I love working out hard again!!

1 month 2 days postpartum

“Most Western women have never been physically tested until we go through labor and birth…haven’t gone eighteen or twenty four hours without food or sleep…allowed ourselves to go a day or two…without a bath or shower, without brushing our teeth and doing our hair and makeup.  Even fewer of us would allow anyone else to see, smell, or touch us, unwashed, sweat-soaked, naked, oozing mucus, blood, and feces from out nether regions.  When faced with the forces of labor, we can’t hide the fear, the anxiety, the responses to pain…All the inhibitions and trappings of our social selves are peeled away as our bodies thrust and heave, vomit and grunt, cry and leak.  The animal is there for all to see.” 

-Susan Diamond, R.N.  Hard Labor

On Thursday, March 7 I woke up with mild cramps. Uncomfortable?  Yes.  Gas?  Maybe.  I decided not to get too excited and carry on with my morning as usual.  I did my morning yoga routine and some breathing exercises and then went for a walk with my friend at the park.  I mentioned to her I was having some cramps but they seemed pretty far apart and I didn’t want to get too worked up over nothing.  After a couple of miles, she headed back to work and I decided to take one more mile loop.  By the end of the loop, I was having to stop to breathe through the contractions that seemed to be coming more frequently.

I walked home and called my mom who was on the way to see my Grandma up north as she was preparing for surgery.  I explained what was going on and she encouraged me to start timing them.  This was at 10:30 A.M.  I contemplated going to the gym to get my planned swim in (Yes, I was in labor and considering going to the pool) but within the next half hour, my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart and forcing me to my hands and knees.  I let Josh know what was happening but told him he should stay at work until I got a hold of the midwife… which proved to be more challenging than expected and was irritating the heck out me!  Josh came home from work and I finally got a hold of her.  She asked me to come to the clinic to be checked before going to the hospital.

Josh drove me in, me moaning and wiggling in the passenger seat and protesting each pothole.  As we sat in the waiting room, I curled in a ball, not wanting the other pregnant women to see what pain I was in (I’m not sure why I cared, maybe I was trying to protect them from what was to come?).  They called us back and the midwife checked my cervix.  Sure enough, I was 100% effaced and dilating more with each contraction. My body was working hard.  She told me to expect a March 7 baby.  They monitered the baby for a few minutes and then sent us home to labor for a while and gather our hospital bags.

At home, the contractions grew more and more painful.  A friend came over to visit for a while but I’m afraid I wasn’t much fun.  I tried hugging my exercise ball, bathing, and laying in bed.  The moans became louder and I finally told Josh it was time to head to the hospital.  He remained calm and collected. By this point, I had stopped laughing at his jokes and was taken aback by the pain. The 2 minute drive to the hospital seemed to take eternity…and then we drove around the ER parking lot 5 times waiting for some people to leave.  They didn’t leave and I got out of the car to ask what their plan was. haha.  I was so very obviously in labor and trying to be as polite as possible.  Turns out, they were just taking a smoke break and were not planning on leaving.  What. The. Heck.  We ended up parking in a reserved spot and were assured we wouldn’t get fined.

The short walk into the ER was a chore.  I stopped and leaned forward with my hands on the wall with each contraction.  They felt so close together and so powerful.  We finally made it in and were taken to registration where we had to sign a few papers–we had already pre-registered, thank God, but just listening to the woman and signing the documents felt hellish.  We were then told to wait while someone from labor and delivery came to fetch us.  Another pregnant couple showed up with their bags.  The woman was smiling and didn’t seem to be in any pain.  As we were brought up to labor and delivery, me in a wheel chair and grimacing in pain, the other woman smiling and laughing and walking just fine, I turned to her and said, “You look way too comfortable to be in labor.”  Turns out she was being induced.  Phew, I was beginning to feel like maybe I might be a huge wimp.

When we got to L&D, a nurse checked me while we waited for my midwife to arrive.  I was “a keeper” they said and noted that I had dilated another half cm just while she was checking.  I was progressing quickly.  My midwife and her apprentice (who I love), doula, and parents were all suddenly there.  The midwife said it looked like it was going to be a quick, but intense labor.  ”I can do quick,” I thought.

I soaked in a tub for a while before they realized I had requested a room with a birthing tub.  We decided to move to a different room–I had to pee and they told me to just go in the water since I was getting out anyway.  I remember my mom thinking this was funny.  I went for it.  They helped me out, wrapped me up and took me to the the birthing tub.  My midwife decided it would be best to just get in the birthing tub since I was progressing so quickly.  It was really beautiful.  Gorgeous tile, a huge window overlooking the city…its really a shame I couldn’t enjoy it more.  By 9 PM we started pushing.  My parents went out to wait, fully expecting to meet their grandson any time soon.  With each contraction, I pulled myself from reclining to sqauting and tried to bear down.  I reached down and could feel my water sack, which was still in tact, bulging out of me.  We eventually decided it might help if we broke it and they pulled out their crochet needle (haha, that’s totally what it looks like) and struggled for a while to break my super strong sack.  I pushed in the tub for two hours with no progress. I could feel my pelvic muscles trying to open but they were so tight. The midwife laughed at said it was the only time when my strong runners body was going to cause me problems.  I continued to push, it felt as though my my pelvis was trying to rip open but would just not give.  I kept asking, “how much longer???”

reaching down to feel my water bulging.

Robin talking me through a contraction/set of pushes

At 11 PM my midwife said she thought our only shot at a vaginal delivery was to get an epidural to relax my pelvic muscles.  She also commented on the shape of my pelvis.  The right side seemed to jut out and was making it difficult for Leif to navigate my pelvic area.  She saw the look of disappoinment on my face.  She was so compassionate and encouraging.  She told me she was amazed at my strength and felt like I had earned a natural birth–I had done the work for over 12 hours and then my progress had just stopped.  They left me alone with Josh and Lyn, my doula, for a few minutes to talk it over.  I said I trusted my midwives judgement and we decided to go for it.  They sent for the anesthesiologist…

As it turns out, the anesthesiologist was busy with a c-section.  They kept telling me it would be half an hour or so.   I sort of lost (what was left) of my cool during this waiting period.  It was the most agonizing pain I’d ever been in and unlike the previous 12 hours of pain, I felt like it was doing nothing to bring Leif closer to birth.  I dropped several F bombs (mostly in relation to the anesthesiologist) while Josh, my mom, Lyn, and the midwives tried to soothe me.  Robin, the apprentice did some guided meditation and helped me breathe through the contractions with long, low ooooommmmmssss.

At about 1 AM (two hours after we decided to go for the epidural), the anesthesiologist arrived.  They set me up on the bed and I leaned forward on my mom, my legs trembling wildly.  I squeezed her tight (probably too tight as she got really light headed) while the doctor went over the legal yatayata and had me sign…I kept saying, “yeah, yeah, yeah, just do it!!!!”  I didn’t feel much of what he was doing other than when he hit a couple nerves, sending electric shots down my left leg.

Within 5 minutes, I was regaining sanity as the drugs took effect.  We decided to push some more.  We pushed for about 2 hours more with no success.  They called in someone from the hospital to get another opinion.  She watched me push and checked to see where the baby was.  She said my uterous wasn’t working hard enough anymore–partly from the epidural and partly because it was just exhausted from so much pushing.  She noted the baby wasn’t even far enough down to help with a vaccuum (which scared the crap out of me anyway), suggested that we try some pitocin to strengthen my contractions, let me rest a while, and then try pushing again but changed my position a little.  If that didn’t work, we’d have to cut Leif out of there.  I later found out she was a D.O, which may have been why she allowed me to continue to try to push–giving my body the benefit of the doubt a little longer.  Whatever the reason she allowed me to keep pushing, I am so grateful that my medical team trusted me enough to continue to work.

At this point I was feeling slightly defeated.  My support team was incredible. Now that I was comfortable and resting while we waited for my contractions to get stronger, my parents went home so my dad could shower and rest before his angiogram  (yes, my dad had a cardiac procedure on Friday morning–crazy week for my family), Lyn and Josh napped, and the midwives tended to other moms.  My nurse stayed with me the whole time to monitor me and to keep an eye on Leif’s heart rate.  I wore an oxygen mask to help him out but had to remove it every few minutes because I was burping up acid (awesome–heart burn).  I lay there with my eyes closed, thinking about the life inside of me and how all of the sudden all my planning and training didn’t matter.  All that mattered was that Leif came to us safely.

I responded to texts messages from my aunts and cousins and was surprised to get responses from them in the weee hours of morning.  They told me they were there with me and thought I was amazing.  My aunt told me my grandma was trying to convince them to let her transfer hospitals (she was in recovery from her surgery) so she could come help deliver my baby.  Knowing family was up, sending love and strength through the night gave me more courage and will to keep trying.

I could here other women laboring in other rooms–screaming and groaning as I had.  I thought about all the women all over the world who were giving birth.  I felt thankful for the wisdom of my midwives and that I have access to medicine that would help my baby be born. I joked with the nurse that someone should go give the screaming women some drugs.  Since getting the epidural, I was joking and laughing much more easily.

Around 4, my contractions seemed strong enough to try pushing again.  I knew this was my last shot at getting him out vaginally and I rallied the team. They drained my bladder using a catheter.  I was shocked by the amount of urine that came out of my bladder!  We were making more space for Leif to come out.  The medical staff was amazed that I had such great movement still.  I could use my legs, lift my pelvis, and move around much better than I had been able to before the epidural.  I could also sense the contractions coming before the machine picked them up.  At first, I don’t think they believed me.  But sure enough, each time, right after I announced a contraction was coming, the monitor would confirm it.  I felt present and ready to work with every ounce of strength in my body and spirit to get Leif out into this world.

Josh held one leg while Lyn held the other.  I grasped under my thighs and with each contraction made it my goal to get in 4 strong hard pushes.  Robin felt for his head as I pushed.  The nurse held the monitor in place to keep an eye on his heart rate, which dropped during pushes but quickly recovered during rests.  We also put a squat bar over the bed, looped a towel around it and I would press with my feet while pulling with all my strength on the towel.  I could every muscles in my core with each push (something my doula later commented on–sort of a “dang girl, you’re ripped). As his head began to appear.  I asked for a mirror.  My first glimpse of his head send chills through my body.  I smiled and said “I can do this” after each contraction.  I talked to Leif and asked him to come out.  Progress was slow but being able to see his head motivated me to get in one more push during each contraction before falling back on the bed with a gasp.  I could reach down and feel his head.  I made it my goal to “hold him” right where he was between contractions.  My team continued to encourage me, telling me I was doing it, reminding me how strong I was and to keep at it.

Finally, at 6:23 AM, after over 6 hours of pushing, Leif’s head crowned and out he came.  The most intense joy I’ve ever experienced shot through my body.  I was laughing, crying, whooping, looking at Josh and our baby as they cut the cord from around his neck and I easily pushed his shoulders out.  They put him on my chest and I kissed his head over and over and told him I loved him as he cried that sweet newly born “I’m here!” cry (and “holy smokes, mom, that was rough ride”).

They patted him clean with blankets as he lay on my chest. I didn’t even bother to notice the placenta being delivered or my midwife stitching me up. I was in a love trance. Within just a few minutes, he was happy to look for some food and I was helped out of my sports bra for our first nursing session.  He was such a champion.

Josh made some phone calls to family.  My parents were already on their way back to the hospital.  They were expecting to arrive and find that I was in the OR and were so excited to instead discover that Leif had found his way out without a c-section.  We were allowed to snuggle for a good hour before they weighed and measured him– 7 pounds and 19 inches of perfect.

Labor was nothing like I expected.  I could not have prepared for that.  It was a roller coaster of emotions and pain like I’ve never experienced before.  I had been so afraid of intervention.  I felt that it would take away from my birthing experience.  I was afraid I would feel less present and not as involved if I had an epidural.  I can safely say that I experienced both–I went through the first phase of labor, transition, and then part of the second phase of labor with out meds and then had to put my pride and preconceived ideas about medical intervention aside and finish laboring with the aide of western medicine.  I let go of control and found that I was not only able to be present during the rest of the labor but also joyful and focused on the task at hand.  It was still extremely hard work even after I couldn’t feel the pain of the contractions.  My midwife, in her 23 years of experience, had never seen a woman whose second phase of labor lasted longer than her first and who pushed for that long without giving up.  My tight pelvis might have caused some problems but my endurance and general strength, coupled with my habit of continually pushing the boundaries of what my body and spirit are capable of enduring are what allowed me to continue to push.

Here we are, 12 days postpartum.  We have the most beautiful, healthy little boy anyone could ask for.  While I’m exhausted from late night nursing, I am embracing each moment, knowing that its going to go fast and not wanting to blink, for fear of missing something wonderful. We dance to Bob Marly, go for walks, and read by day and snuggle by night… The pain of labor lingers in my sore “bottom” but my ,”MOM, YOUR NOT GETTING ANYMORE GRANDBABIES FROM ME!” has quickly turned in to–”Yeah, I could totally do that again!”

First day as a family of 3!

Love is my religion

Josh’s little chin and mouth!

Look at that sweet little tummy!

The following weekend included lots of pregnant plans as well.  On Saturday, my mom came over to bring all the shower clothes she had washed for me.  We sorted and put them into the baby’s dresser, cooing at all the adorable little outfits and imagining the little person that would be wearing them over the coming months.  In the evening, a group of my girlfriends came over for what I thought was our bi-monthly craft night.  We had big plans to make a pregnancy cast of my breasts and big ol’ belly.  All 8 of them set to work plastering the strips on my naked upper half as we giggled and listened to music.  It was such a bonding experience.  For one, I was half naked and they were all touching me (sort of intimate) but more than that, I felt their love as we set to work commemorating my first pregnancy. It was also nice that they kept telling me what a good looking pregnant lady I am (so good to hear over and over at this stage in the game).

When they finished casting me, I was sent to the shower to get the left over bits of plaster and vasaline off.  Ten minutes later I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel.  I looked into the living room and saw a bunch of beautiful smiles looking at me, a banner hanging in the window, and confetti to follow.  My first instinct was to dive back into the bathroom (I was in a towel after all), but their laughter drew me out.  While I was showering, they had set up a surprise belly party for me–vegan delights and belly dancer included.  These girls are top notch.

As if I wasn’t feeling so much love already, the next day, Jen took me out for a maternity photo shoot in which Josh joined for part of it.  Another wonderful way to remember this pregnancy.

I went into the week feeling ridiculously loved and supported by my friends and family.  I felt emotionally and spiritually ready to bring a new life in to the world–he is being born into an incredible community. This was reinforced a couple days later when my friend Hannah brought over a monkeyshine she had hunted for and found for the baby.  Every year around the Lunar New Year, a group of glass blowers in Tacoma create these beautiful glass orbs and hide them throughout the city.  Tacomans of all walks search the parks, statues, fountains, shrubbery to try to find one of these beautiful creations.   Our little made and born in Tacoma baby will now have his very own Monkeyshine representing the Year of the Snake. My word, he’s loved.

All of the baby “to-do’s” sort of fade into the background as I think about what is really important for this baby.  The “must-haves” that baby stores supply for registries begin to seem absolutely ridiculous.  Sure, some of it is helpful (I plan to log a lot of miles on our jogger stroller) and cute (I can’t even handle how cute some of the clothes people gifted us are), but most of it is not.  When reading blogs and talking to moms, I find that there are very few things a baby actually “needs”–the most important things are free–love and mama’s milk.

So, here we are 36 weeks and 1 day into this pregnancy journey.  My heart feels ready and I can tell my body is preparing (pass the nursing pads please!). If he’s born tomorrow, my midwife assures me he’d be just fine.  So now we wait.  Wait for there to be a rhythm to all these contractions I’m having.  Wait til our little guy is ready to make his debut in this crazy world.  It could be tonight or it could be in 6 weeks.  Its up to him at this point.  Whenever it happens, it will be the right time and he’ll enter this with a whole lot of people already loving him. And really, that’s all he needs.

Yesterday, I decided I could not, not sweat for one more day.  I NEEDED to workout or I was going to slip slip slip into a depressive state of being.  Still coughing, still congested, I walked 3 miles on the treadmill and then did a very modified agility class, burying my face in a rag every time I hacked so as not to infect anyone.

Last night, I was sore.  My upper back continued to be tight from coughing and my lower back/pelvic area was sore from working out.  One of my childhood friends, Beth, is in her 4th year of Osteopathic Medicine and happens to be doing a rotation at the hospital down the road from us.  She came over last night after work and treated me with Osteopathic Manipulative Medicine (OMM).  Her touch was healing to my body and her company was medicine to my soul.  I fell asleep after a 10 minute meditation session my friend Julie shared with me.

This morning, when my alarm clock went off, I’m pretty sure I was drooling and I all I wanted to do was stay in my warm bed, next to my warm husband.  I managed to get myself up and moving.  I got my tea made and did my 20 minutes of morning yoga.  As I was laying in shivasina, I had this realization, “This bronchitis has most likely taken running much more in this pregnancy off the table…” BOOM.  It was like a bomb.  I was nearly crying.  Running is what I do.  It is my number one coping strategy and now this piece of shit virus had robbed me of it.  Its not that I don’t think my lungs will heal, its just that while taking the time off to allow them to heal, my body changed a lot and I can’t just pick back up where I left off.  Where I left off is long gone.

I could have let this thought drag me into the depths of despair…but I didn’t (okay, maybe for a few minutes I did, I AM human after all).  Actually, what I’m realizing, is that every moment in a chance to not let this depress me.  Today, I combated negative thinking by concentrating on all the things my body is capable of–before, during, and post pregnancy.  I walked 3 miles pushing the girls in the stroller and I swam for 45 minutes this evening.  I combated negative, ho-hum thinking with positive affirming thoughts.  I remembered all the incredible things my body is able to do–from climbing mountains, surviving in the wilderness, cycling 100 miles, growing a baby…growing a baby…now that’s somethin’ isn’t it?  While my mind is quick to think how great it is to run run run, I tend to forget how incredible what I’m doing right now is–in 8 weeks I’m going to push a human life into this world.  A life that Josh and I made because of our Creators amazing design.  A life that I fostered and sustained inside of me.  I have the rest of my life to run ultras…I have right now to be pregnant with this little boy.    But just so I don’t forget what my body can do, pregnancy included, I’m holding these victories close…

Summiting Mt. Rainier

Running 56 miles in 9 hours and 18 minutes

Surviving a night in South Africa’s mountains in the winter…in jeans and a long sleeve shirt (bbbrrrr…and yikes)

6 pack abs

Yoga

Growing a baby

Climbing Rocks

Racing, and racing well, for the first half of pregnancy

caring for two precious little girls 8 hours a day

Yes, this might have seemed a little like a brag session…look at me! look at me!  But after a seriously tough couple of weeks when just getting out of bed took all my energy, reminding myself how incredible my body (read, the human body) is was just necessary.  We are all capable of amazing amazing things.  Wherever you are at in your body, embrace it and then start moving forward.

Going to Battle with Demons–32 weeks pregnant, 3 weeks of bronchitis

Despite feeling so sick and blue, I’ve been mustering up the strength for a few minutes of yoga each day to calm my mind and provide some relief for my over worked core (from all the coughs).  The other morning while I was siting in child’s pose, literally saying the F word to the bug that is making me want to cut my chest open and scrape out all the gunk, I had this thought, “What is this illness trying to teach me?”

Am I still pissed off that I’m sick? Yes.  Do I not fantasize about feeling better, going for a run, and sleeping without the disturbance of cough attacks?  Heck yes.  But after my appointment on Thursday, in which I hadn’t put of the couple pounds expected and I was measuring just a little small (I’d been spot on since the beginning)I realized that I needed to listen to this cough.  Running, while it is medicine for my soul, will have to wait.  My body is expending enough energy trying to heal, I need to rest and allow it to do its thing.  This took a lot of pressure off.  Phew, I don’t have to beat myself up for not running/working out when I’m sick.  I don’t have to feel guilty for staying in bed most of Saturday and Sunday!

Being sick is horrible but listening to your body and giving it what it needs is the most liberating experience one could ask for!

Sippin’ my Immune Me Juice with my new Cuppow mason jar lid!

I’m sort of pissed off that I’m sick with a disgusting chesty cough.  I’m pulling out all the stops in an attempt to heal myself (hopefully before New Years Eve so I can participate–a much as pregnant women are allowed–in the festivities!).  I spent most of yesterday in bed, today I did some gentle prenatal yoga in my pajamas and then ventured out to help Josh finish up his mural downtown (11th and Market!  Go check it out! or come participate in it on First Night 12/31).  Now I’m home, back in my PJ’s, drinking some Immune Me Green Juice from Kris Carr’s Crazy Sexy Kitchen.

For those of you who don’t know Kris Carr–she is an incredible inspiration.  After discovering she had an incurable stage four cancer in 2003, she decided that the triple organ transplant the doctor suggested did not sound like a great idea–but neither did dying–so she set off on a journey to find healing for herself.  She is not just alive today, but THRIVING, on a whole foods plant based diet.  The woman is amazing and she also happens to be a queen juicer. I figure, if making her own green Juice can help Kris Thrive in the midst of cancer, its probably a safe bet for helping out with my cough.

Juicing takes time–there’s washing, peeling, and cleaning of equipment involved.  It also can get a little expensive (but since I don’t really by medicine, those funds are just reallocated to veggies).  For these reasons, I have a hard time doing it on a consistent basis.  Green smoothies are much quicker and are my AM go to most days.  But this is the second time since October than I’ve had a nasty cough!  So, I made my way to the produce sections of a couple of my favorite stores and I loaded up on fruits and veggies for some serious juice healing.  Here is the recipe for the one I had this evening:

Immune Me (serves 2)

• 2 green apples
• 4 cucumbers
• 1 inch piece ginger root
• 1 lemon, peeled and quartered
• 8 romaine leaves

Just wash them up, peel if using conventional (I bought conventional cucumbers and peeled them), and juice, baby, juice!

Comrades Ultra 2010–A reminder of what I’m capable of–letting my baby, body, and intuition guide me through pregnancy…looking forward to some hardcore runs next summer.

I write to you from my bed.  I’ve spent a majority of the day lazying around the apartment in my pajamas, only changing out of them to go for a walk at the park.  It seems as though Santa brought me a little chest cold.  Last year, I would have ran through it.  Not so much this year.  You see, the person growing inside my womb is teaching me so much already– mostly how to listen.

There are many things I expected to happen while I was pregnant.  I knew I would gain weight and that I’d probably be tired a lot.  I knew I’d have to reduce my mileage and speed.  What I wasn’t prepared for were all the little other crazy things that have happened to my body in the past 7 months.  Each phase of pregnancy has brought different challenges.  While I comfortably ran 13 miles the day after discovering I was pregnant and kept up weekly long runs of 2-2.5 hours until about 18 weeks, there were days during the first trimester that turned into giant sleep-athons–running was a distant dream.  As the nausea and exhaustion of the first trimester wore off, I felt like I was gaining strength in many ways.  While my runs were getting slower and shorter, I could still run relatively comfortably and I could still go hard in the agility class I do a couple times a week at the Y.  As the third trimester crept up on me and my belly began to really grow, my “runs” have turned into “run/walk/waddle” most days and somedays I can barely eek out a mile before stripping down, putting on my maternity bathing suit, and hitting the pool to get the rest of my workout in.

Here’s how he’s teaching me to listen:

1) Round Ligament Pain:

This began during my second trimester.  When I run (and now sometimes when I’m just walking) I get a horrible jabbing pain in my right lower abdomen.  Its similar to a very intense side stitch.  As my uterus grows to accommodate a growing little boy, the ligaments in my abdomen  have to stretch and thicken.  Nobody told me about this!  It has by far been the most constant irritant (aside from bladder issues) while running.  Wearing a maternity support belt helps some but when its really bad, I just have to slow to a walk…or sometimes just stop.

2)  Posterior Pelvic Pain (low back pain)

This also began in the second trimester but has become most painful in the last few weeks.  PPP is the most common type of back pain during pregnancy.  Its caused by several factors–weight gain, posture changes, ligaments loosening and preparing for birth.  Most of the time it is a dull ache that radiates into my butt but every once in a while, when I shift my weight to one side for example, it is an intense explosion of pain. My midwife recommend massage, chiropractic, and wearing a maternity belt– and swimming. Sigh.  On several occasions this pain has brought me to a stop while running and forced me to either take the day off or get in the pool.  Some nights, the pain feels likes its radiating at a diagonal from one side of my butt, through my vagina, to the other side of my butt.  These nights its hard to sleep.    Little man in my tummy, you’re worth it.

3) Compromised Immune System

Again, something that I don’t remember being told before I was pregnant.  My immune system feels so weak!  This is my second respiratory infection in the past few months.  This time, I’m doing my best to nurse it early.  Keeping as chilled as possible, drinking loads of lemon water, tea, and green stuff, soaking in baths… I’m not super sick, I totally would have ran through something like this when I wasn’t pregnant but the thought of getting sicker sounds miserable when I’m already quite uncomfortable.

4) Bladder Alert!

I get up about every two hours to use the loo now at night.  Its like clock work and I’m wondering if the this is his way of training me to wake up for feedings every few hours.  I have a routine down now–wake up, waddle to toilet and pee, blow my nose (pregnancy has also made me really stuffy with weird chunky boogers), get a drink of water, and return to bed…repeat every two hours.

5) Emotional Stress and an Onslaught of Advice

I’d heard before that when you are pregnant, everyone and their mom would give you their unsolicited expertise on pregnancy, birth, and child raising.  I was still not prepared.  Some of this information is useful, a lot isn’t.  For example, the lady behind me in line at the coffee shop inside Fred Meyer who kept reminding me that coffee is not good for babies even after I repeatedly told her I was ordering a chai…or our goofy, alcoholic middle aged male neighbor who chastises me for running while pregnant…From names, to birthing choices, to what I should and shouldn’t eat/feed the baby…EVERYONE seems to know what’s best for me and baby.

Sometimes, this really gets under my skin.  On a few occasions I have really had to bite my tongue so as not to say something really mea.  But, just as with the physical challenges, I’m learning to listen.  Not always listen to what the person is telling me (although I try to be polite), but rather, listen to what my intuition and knowledge is telling me about this onslaught of opinions.  Listening in these situations takes on several forms.  Sometimes, I just try to smile and be polite and then drag the information to the trash bin.  Other times, if the information seems worth considering, I file it in my brain to be thought about, researched, and discussed.

The wonderful news is, at the end of the day, really only I get the final say about my body! When faced with the choice to listen to my own intuition regarding my body and my baby or second guessing myself based on the unsolicited opinion of someone else–I’m learning to listen to myself.  Awe- Freedom.

Okay, I need to go do a little yoga to see if I can get this baby to move away from my ribs before he cracks the poor guys (Again, he’s telling me something)!

Because I’d love to do yoga on rocks in Borneo (or somewhere equally as exotic) when I’m a grandma…

Today marks week 27 of pregnancy.  My body (mostly my belly) seems to grow every day and I’m feeling it both physically and emotionally.  There are the obvious physical changes like my size, posture shifting, heart burn, sore back and pelvic region…but then there are the more subtle and often unexpected emotional changes that occur.  Preparing to be a mama, emotionally, is a daunting task.  Its actually the most horrifying (yet gratifying I expect) venture I’ve ever taken up– summiting mountains, living and traveling in foreign countries, running ultras all seem rather tame in comparison to this parenting thing.  Those things are temporary– you get to the top of a mountain, you complete an ultra, you finish your time in the new place (or you leave if it doesn’t work out).  Parenting is a bit more permanent.  No getting to the top, finishing the race, or moving on to the the next country/job/educational adventure.

This post is not about the emotional roller coaster I’m experiencing as I prepare to meet our baby in about 13 weeks (that’s really soon….) but rather about a recent article in the Huffington Post about plant based eating and cancer. What do my emotions about parenting and the article have to do with each other?  Well for one, one of my tasks as a parent is to raise up a healthy, strong, compassionate, and happy person–and teaching them to eat a diet that reduces their risk of cancer (along with other diseases) is just one way to do that.  Becoming a mom also makes me think of more about my own mortality.  I’ve never by any means welcomed death.  No, no…quite the contrary…and the one time I thought I might actually die (when we had to spend the night in the mountains in South Africa under a rock in the winter…and were approached by poachers in the middle of the night), I was fighting like mad along side Josh to ensure I didn’t die.  However,  the prospect of motherhood has made me even more grateful for life and my desire to live a long, healthy, joyful one has increased.

Thus, an article that quotes research stating that my dietary choices are “hugely” helpful against cancer is GREAT news.  It also solidifies my belief that raising our son and any other future children on a plant based diet is just as important as teaching them to not run into the street without looking.  Here are some tidbits from the article–but please do feel free to check it out in its entirety by clicking here.  None of its really new information–The China Study pretty much dropped this bomb a while ago but I love how accessible this article is and how simply it lays it out.

Tidbits:

• A 2012 analysis of all the of the best studies done to date concluded that vegetarians have significantly lower cancer rates than meat eaters.
• A new study at Loma Linda University reported that vegans have lower rates of cancer than both meat eaters and vegetarians–and the omnivores used in the study were healthy individuals eating less meat that the standard American diet.
• Women placed on a plant based diet for just 2 weeks were found to suppress the growth of 3 different types of breast cancer (that’s just two weeks–imagine what years or a lifetime could do!)
• The cancer promoting hormone IGF-1 is increased by animal proteins but eating a plant based diet significantly decreases IGF-1 found in the blood.

• pppsssspppp…eating a plant based diet also reduces our risk of diabetes, obesity, and hypertension!  Excellent? I think so.

Last week, a friend of mine asked if I’ve seen the documentary Earthlings.  I told her I hadn’t because the trailer had made me sob.  After watching it last weekend, she told me, both her and her husband had decided that their family would go vegan.  Just like that, they committed to no longer consuming animal products and being more conscious of non-food products they purchase that may contain animal products.

Over the past week, I went back and forth as to whether or not I would watch the documentary.  I’m already a vegan after all and the idea of watching animals suffer makes me want to cry just thinking of it.  But, because it was such a powerful and life changing experience for friend and her family, I knew I wanted to share it with others.  I feel that it is important that I have watched it before suggesting to others that they too watch it.

I must warn you, this is graphic…but it is real and the suffering is on a massive scale.  What does this say about our own humanity if we continue to turn our heads and let this happen in our own nation?  I watched the video in sections because I honestly could not take it all at once.  I cried throughout most of it and felt like I’d be sick to my stomach several times.  Josh was reading in the other room and several times he looked at me concerned as if I was going to puke on the computer…it’s that gross (and I’m that pregnant).

Why would you watch such a horrid thing?  Because knowledge is the first step to making changes.  Yes, they are animals and in so many ways different from us.  But they are also so much like us.  If you’ve ever snuggled with a puppy, let a piglet nestle against your hand, or watched a cow nursing her calf, you know that they are not just objects but living beings with physical and psychological needs–they feel pain and experience emotions.

In the past few years of eating vegan, it has become more and more apparent to me that our well being as humans is intimately tied to the well being of animals and the environment.  When I refuse to eat a food because it contains a small amount of animal products, I am not doing so to be annoying or because I think an ity-bity amount of dairy will give me cancer.  I do so because if I do not stand by my convictions that the practices used to make the food were both cruel and unhealthy for the animal, the environment, and myself then I am not being true to myself. I’m not trying to be “high and mighty” but rather just trying to live in a way that allows me to sleep at night. Over a chai last week in Arizona, my friend said to me something like this…”Every decision we make brings us either closer to who we really are or further away…”  I say ‘no thanks’ because I want to move closer to who I am and what I believe.

This film is sad and hard to watch.  It is likely to leave you with unpleasant feelings.  The rainbow of hope is that we each make a stance against this type of cruelty when we refuse to purchase food and items derived from such practices.  A leather purse, no matter how cute, just doesn’t seem worth the pain.  A cheap chicken breast/burger/pork chop/filet just doesn’t taste as good when you acknowledge the pain and suffering that it caused.  In India, many of the Hindu’s I discussed this avoidance of eating flesh with spoke of “not ingesting” suffering.  I often think of that when I am faced with the choice to accept food with animal products or to refuse and risk insulting someone or maybe going hungry for a while.

Please take the time to watch it.  It’s free.

Click here.