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Happy New Year!

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Oh my.  I haven’t blogged in quite some time, huh?  WELL, I have some positive things to share:

Every now and then I get 3-4 hour stretches of sleep, so I resemble a zombie much less now.  Clover is growing well- 15 pounds at 10 weeks old!

I am well on my way to getting back in shape (Paleo diet, back to teaching, resistance training, and soon, WEIGHTS!)

The fall semester plopped me right down onto the Dean’s List (things that also happened last semester: a hurricane, birth, kidney stones, running a business, mothering a toddler, running a home, teaching Zumba three times a week. I can’t be stopped, y’all.)

The agency is taking off.  I’m a little shocked at how well we’re doing.  We went from modest start-up to- dare I say it?- successful overnight.

I’m back in school this semester, and classes start Monday.  Gwenna is also off to Montessori pre-school on Monday, so I may very well have more time to flood this blog with pictures of Paleo food and recipes!  Get ready!

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“Half of my face is numb?”

I swore to my husband that I would not be going to the ER or L&D for this pregnancy if I wasn’t about to have a baby, and I am therefore a dirty liar.

I was interviewing a nanny on Sunday in a coffee shop on Magazine Street.  Lovely afternoon, sweet lady, and a yogurt parfait.  Nearly all the way though the interview, I had to stop talking several times, because I was… out of breath?  Out of energy?  All of the above, plus losing vision.  I blacked out for a very uncomfortable moment in which I thought I might vomit on the spot, and decided to wrap the interview up with the now very concerned nanny.  I gathered my things as I was not yet alarmed, having experienced these episodes through most of the pregnancy, even though they usually weren’t so dramatic and the effects not nearly so long-lasting.  I tried to sip some milk and realized the left side of my face did not have feeling.

I nearly sobbed on the spot.

I dialed my husband, no answer.  He was probably putting the baby down for a nap.  I waited a few minutes, dialed again, same thing.  By now I was decided on going to the ER- thankfully just a few blocks away- and also decided on driving myself, which I was certain was a bad idea because I was obviously having a stroke.  One thing I knew to do was move, move, move, and get my tush over to the ER.

Made it there fine, went to registration, went to triage, got escorted to L&D.  One of the midwives I see was already at the hospital for a birth, so my lonely stay was a bit shorter than it might have been.  They checked me out, put me on monitors.  Luckily, neurological problems were ruled out pretty quickly.  I was baffled as to what was going on.  Baby looked great, I was having zero contractions, zero dilation.  The last thing to get checked was my blood, and it came back that I am anemic.

Simple, right?  Apparently it was pretty bad.  Bad enough to not only have me blacking out while sitting down, but also sleeping for half the day and the night.  After 2 and a half days of iron supplements twice a day, my iron levels are now borderline.  I can’t express how much better I feel!  I had no idea that anemia could feel so miserable, and that it could be so serious.

I saw my chiropractor on Monday, and he adjusted my neck, and the numbness went away.

Way to freak me out, weird stressed nerve in my neck.

When I got home from the ER, Zack was so relieved.  It sucks to think your 24-year-old wife, pregnant with your second child, might be dealing with a stroke.  Add to that my phone had died a short time into my visit… Poor guy.

In a nutshell, you could say that I overreacted… but seriously?  A blackout episode accompanied by facial numbness on one side?  What the heck, body.  What the heck.

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The Dangers of Exercising While Pregnant

So far I’ve found only one: a slightly higher chance of doing dumb things in reaction to normal muscle aches.

Let me tell you yesterday’s story!

I have been having tightening sensations in my lower abdomen for days- since Thursday.  I’ve been resting as much as anyone could expect of a stay-at-home mom with a toddler, and drinking fluids, apart from teaching Zumba classes on Thursday and yesterday morning (even though I had some bleeding yesterday morning- the midwife and I agreed it was probably nothing, made some minor adjustments to how I should be going about my weekend, and then basically forgot about it).

Yesterday afternoon, the tightening got worse.  My husband, daughter, and I were doing our weekly grocery shopping run when I began to feel like my tummy was just… fatigued.  The muscles needed to rest, and to my knowledge, they weren’t doing anything.  This wasn’t ligament pain, this wasn’t labor contractions, this wasn’t gas… this was God-knows-what, and it alarmed me a bit because I just knew that squatting down (common reaction to labor) would provide some relief.  So I found myself randomly squatting down in the grocery store, pretending to be scanning the bottom shelves.  I knew this wasn’t me in labor, but something was going on, and it was getting worse.

We dropped our darling daughter off at her grandparents’ house and went back home for dinner, a ton of fluids, and some rest.  Then we decided to go to an arena football game Zack had won tickets to, and at the football game, things got worse again.

I called the midwife, and we decided to go to L&D to get checked out.  Commence endless eye rolls from my husband and I, because, while necessary, the trip was sure to produce nothing.  We knew what was going to happen: they would hook me up to monitors, I wouldn’t have a single contraction, they might check for dilation, and I’d be sent home.

That is what happened.  Not a single contraction (thank goodness!)

However, while there, I asked the nurse a bunch of questions, and one that occurred to me was about muscle fatigue: is it common for people to confuse pain from working out with contractions?  She said it was a definite possibility.

Face in palm.

The sensations began on Thursday, after teaching a class, and got worse Saturday, after teaching a class.  I had been sure I was not working any muscles in my lower abdomen, mostly since it feels impossible and a little because I consciously focus on upper abs when we work out those muscles in class.  I am a little ashamed to report that muscle soreness/the tightening of a muscle group after working it out fairly well during pregnancy feels exactly the same as that sensation outside of pregnancy.  It’s a little more uncomfortable because of the pressure on all of that fluid inside that baby balloon you’re carrying, but really, it’s the same thing.

Leave it to a Zumba instructor to not realize that she’s sore from working out.

Apart from the above story, working out during pregnancy has been an amazing experience.  Even when I was down with the first trimester sickness, I taught once a week and went for as many walks as possible, and these activities offered me some distractions and some endorphins- good stuff.  Now that I am teaching 3 times a week, it’s even better.  It’s slowing the pregnancy weight gain, I’m conserving muscle mass (which wasn’t the case with the first pregnancy- I had a slight case of chicken legs after that one), I’m less hungry on days I work out than on days I don’t.  Working out is keeping me in shape for all of the squats I know I’ll be doing during labor.  It helps me feel like a human being when I’m actually two.

I think the real dangers of exercise in pregnancy happen when you’re out of shape and you suddenly feel that nesting urge and clean the whole house, exhausting yourself.  This definitely happened to me the first time.  I also ended up tired from just about everything during the third trimester, and this wrought major havoc on my inner peace (“I can’t take another day of pregnancy!” Is not productive thinking when you have about 50 left).  This time, I barely notice a difference between 20 weeks and 28 weeks.

All I’m saying is… Zumba!

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I have earned some serious bragging.

I realize that my blog is still very new, and as such, unfettered pompousness and boasting on my part may kind of ruin this whole thing for some people.

However, I don’t care.

This is why: I have achieved a weight gain of only 5 pounds as of this 27th week of pregnancy.  (Not unrelated: my blood pressure this morning was 100/58.)

Um, HIGH FIVE!!!  No pun intended.  I’m not one of those weirdos who think puns are real humor.  Admittedly, I did once read the Xanth series by Piers Anthony, and all I have to say for that is “book addiction”.

Some of you may be thinking, Is that even healthy? or, Excuse me, but you are no better than me for not having a 20-pound weight gain at this point.  These reactions are certainly valid.  First off: is it healthy?  Well, no one really knows for sure how fat loss or gain affects a fetus.  Some studies claim that ketones released from fat burning could potentially damage a fetus’ brain development in utero; others found no such correlation.  The official stance of my midwife is that it’s fine to not gain weight or even lose weight as long as you’re getting proper nutrition and are healthy otherwise.  I am privy to that advice because I lost nearly 30 pounds in my first trimester with Gwenna.  Since I was pretty chunky (still am), my midwives weren’t concerned.  If you’re a healthy weight to begin with though, they get a little more reactive to weight loss or no gain.  So yes, if you’ve gained 20 pounds by week 27, that’s probably fine, and I don’t think I’m better than you.

But you have to admit that I’m awesome!

I have really worked to keep my weight under control for this pregnancy.  Like I said, with Gwenna, I lost nearly 30 pounds.  What I didn’t say was that I gained it all back… plus 20.  Strangely, a week after delivery, I was a mere 5 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight.  That didn’t cancel out the trauma I endured with my very delicate self-image, however; I was horrified at the end my first trimester this time around to learn that I’d only lost 1 pound, in spite of teaching Zumba and being too nauseated to eat much.  I was certain that I would gain 50 pounds again and die from a fat attack.  That probably exists for real: I imagine a mixture of an anxiety attack and an all-out riot of fat cells taking over the cardiovascular system.

But I have triumphed thus far.  I teach Zumba three times a week (and no, I do not modify… yet) and I count calories.  I make sure the majority of the food I put in my mouth is made by me from whole foods.  I plan meals before braving the grocery store.  I bake, I steam, I mash… I watch my husband mix things with the mixer.  See, all made by yours truly.  I try to eat as much fruit and nuts as I can.  I walk for an hour with my daughter in the stroller (I sadly cannot fit both my belly and my daughter in the Ergo carrier any longer) about 3 times a week.

This is an incredibly proud moment in my life.  I’ve always been chunky; I’ve had my rounds with starvation and binging and purging and starting new exercise routines and giving them up after an earnest 3 weeks (which, for some reason, generally led me into a terrible cold).  I’ve cried many tears over feeling helpless about my body.  I may not be losing massive amounts of fat, but I am genuinely.  Truly.  Caring for my body.

That is why, today, I am celebrating gaining 5 pounds.

And here is a picture of Gwenna in a wig:

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