Recycle, Reduce, Reuse

I have been a very poor blog writer as of late. There are a few reasons. One of which is the still lack of belly and the lack of nausea, the lack of cravings, okay basically the lack of feeling pregnant. Sure the lil' one still kicks and punches me every few hours, but other than that.... I just feel like me. I am actually having trouble limiting myself in terms of activities, for example sometimes I get a craving to down a Guinness, but then I have to remind myself that there is a lil guy who will get a whole lot more than tipsy for life. And mountain biking, I thought it was a good idea, I sort of still think it is a good idea, but then the other day when I was going down after a steep and horrible climb it clicked to me that 'this might not be the safest pregnant activity'. I haven't been since then. I am sure biking on flat wide trails is no prob but going downhill on narrow single tracks that are a tad slick and adorned with roots and rocks galore, well one slip and that belly is either flying into the handlebars or over them which could be worse. I will be cautious of the next trail that I ride. So this lack of feeling very pregnant has made me not want to write about being pregnant. Really, I don't have anything to complain about and I don't really feel the need to write about positive things (who the hell would want to read flowery shit?), but time is ticking and nothing is being written so I am going to try to write something, anything, positive or not.

The other reason I haven't written is because I have had a cold non-stop for a month straight. No fever, so no worries, but no avail either. I have been plugged up every day and coughing up chunks of phlegm all day. I can't take oil of oregano, no cold medicine, no friggen teas even! I am guzzling water and waiting to get better.

The last reason is because I have ADHD.... and its getting worse and worse with this pregnancy. I am taking my omegas and getting lots of exercise and have very limited amounts of caffeine, but I can't help but crave the relaxing effects of Ritalin, horrible I know. Or maybe it is just the 'placenta brain' that so many speak of. The inability to remember anything a minute later, I can't focus, I can't sit still, I have been reading the same page in my book for the past seven weeks, I am only on page 50!

So that is where I have been, out walking the dog, mountain biking, enjoying the sun, eating good food, running, watching movies, and nothing requiring very much attention at all. Oh I did have one bad dream about leaving my newborn in the front seat of a car for a few hours unattended on the way home from the hospital. I returned to the car in the dream to find my dog smothering my babe... I freaked out a bit. So we bought a car seat. The first big purchase! We also bought about fifty onesies(how do you spell 'onesy'?) in blue. But, we didn't make the mistake most first timers make.... we walked into the store, past the bamboo onesies and the hemp onesies and the brand name onesies into the cost effective aisle, the consignment aisle. There we loaded up on brand new looking onesies priced at $2.00! Upon leaving I glanced at the brand new onesies and was shocked to see that they were priced as high as $35.00. For a piece of clothing the size of my foot.... when perfectly handy onesies were available basically for free one aisle over. Maybe someone can offer a damn good reason why I shouldn't buy second hand baby gear, but until then I will continue my Sally Ann ways and stock up with more for less. My name brand loving Man can drool at Baby Bjorns, but there is no way we will be throwing our cash into that pile. Besides, we recycle, we have been working on reducing, but now we can truly work on the first principle: reuse! I actually made the mistake of titling this blog Recycle Reduce Reuse, when in actuality it should be Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. This makes much more sense, but in our day it is so much easier to start at recycling and make minimal attempts at the other two. Well no longer for us, we are now a Reduce, Reuse and Recycling duo, he has no choice.

I also should mention that this store was fantastic. The staff ranged from new moms to grandmas wanting to stay in 'baby mode' forever. They were knowledgeable and took the time to walk us through the intro to reusable diapers, car seats, strollers, and cribs. They didn't laugh at us, even when we were laughing at ourselves (which made it a bit awkward), but instead offered more and more advice and information. They even told me that the maternity dress I tried on looked horrible, honest but yet so sweet. Check it out if you are ever expecting at Lonsdale and 20th, Boomers and Echoes . And lastly, we left with one very very important article with which I would recommend to all new parents. Especially for men like my Man who have never ever changed a diaper and will be sure to be slower than the bladder of a new baby boy. The pee-pee teepee. Enough said.

20 weeks

Yesterday was the day. I will quote the man because I found his email to his friends slightly amusing:

Subject: so today we had our 20 week ultrasound
Body: All I have to say is 8---------->

He is a child still. We are children having children and his words confirm this. Regardless, the other great news we received and which he omitted, is that the babe is healthy. Not only does he have a penis but he has four limbs, a full brain, a beating heart and proper organs. It was quite a process, this 20 week ultrasound. We were in there for a good hour with the tech, Parm, telling me all about her and her husband starting to talk about having babies, different details of the ultrasound and measurements and then the brief time that the man was allowed in the room to show him the penis, basically.

I am happy. I would be happy with a healthy girl. But I am happy for the child that it is a boy. I will be able to do a better job as a mom. I wouldn't know what to do with a little girl. My mom had two boys before me, and although she was happy to have a girl finally, she was cheap and adorned me in boys clothes entered me in baseball and hockey because we had the gear and basically raised me like her third son except on church days when the dresses would come out. I can't dance, I can't sing, I don't know anything about make up or dating and I don't like gossip and chit chat. I like sports, I still have dreams of being a professional athlete (just haven't picked a sport yet), and I hate talking on the phone. I am happy, and I will force this boy to love all the sports I love and if he decides he wants to sing and dance, well then he's his father's son, what more can I do?

This morning a friend forwarded me a link to her friend's blog which outlines her opinion of what you can and can't do during pregnancy. I was thrilled to see that I am not the only one out there who still wants to live and not spend each day worrying about miscarrying or harming the fetus. I am watching the foods I consume, true. But I am riding my scooter, this weekend I am going xc mountain biking and snowboarding, I am running, I get massages, I fly on airplanes and want to take a big trip before I deliver, I drink coffee, I continue to work in East Hastings and a filthy restaurant, I use a lap top (sometimes on my lap!) and this morning I had deli meat (microwaved until steaming) and loved every minute of it. I am tired of feeling guilty, yet due to my still lack of belly, I have not been scolded by any strangers. I will refrain from doing something if it feels wrong. Thank you pregnant chicken lady for confirming that I am not a horrible person.

Prenatal "Yoga"

I have never been much of a fan of yoga. I prefer fast moving, high adrenaline activities where there is no time to think and realize that I am extremely uncomfortable or scared shitless. These days, however, I enviously eye mountain bikers unloading their gear, MMA fighters on the television, and even runners sprinting their hearts out in the trails. These past few months, I have become a a spokesperson for moderation, the old me's nemesis. I take days off from exercise, hell I take weeks off and sit on the couch and eat salty comfort foods. I head out for runs and end up walking the entire time. I have had my swimming gear in my back seat for two months and have not gotten my feet wet (since the day my swimming pal told me she saw a belly protruding). And I am happy to spend the entire day inside in my pajamas reading books, and even cooking, (for those of you who don't know me: this is insanely abnormal). I have even considered taking up knitting, along with my new casserole obsession. And yoga, the fact that I have attended more than one class a week is indicative of the change in my exertion preferences. This slow moving activity, the deep breathing and long breaks, is tempting and relaxing at times. I have been going to Iyengar, Hatha, Yin, Kundalini and Power on the good days. At the beginning of each class I make an awkward introduction to the instructor and tell them, complete strangers, that I am pregnant. They then instruct me on what I can and cannot do, each instructor with a different mantra. I have heard "no twists, no lying on the belly, no lying on your back, don't strain, no hot yoga, twist but not too much, no inversions, do anything that feels right: you will know if its not right (to that teacher I should have said: nothing feels right!)" And the best advice, given by a highly respected male instructor : "try out a prenatal yoga class they will tell you what you can and can't do".

So I took the plunge last Thursday and made my way to my first, and potentially last prenatal yoga class. I arrived a tad early which is not a comfortable place for me to be. I don't know what to do when I am early for yoga classes, and at a prenatal yoga class I found out that women just talk about their babies and their plans and yada yada. I have yet to buy anything for my babe, I have no plans, I have no idea where we will live in six months let alone what colour the nursery will be! I opted for silence. Before entering the studio I was stopped by the cashier and told "this is a prenatal yoga class". I gathered that she thought I was either too skinny to be pregnant, or too young to possibly be pregnant and showing my face amongst the older thirty and forty year olds. I smiled, said nothing and entered the class. I sat on my mat and stretched in silence with no clue what to anticipate. I listened to the instructor walk around and introduce herself to the new members. I realized that there were women in the class who were far less pregnant than me, but seemed by visual speculation, much further along. They had bumps, where is my bump? I should remember to take another pregnancy test soon if a bump does not present. I introduced myself and told her I was 16 weeks and had done yoga before and avoided her eye contact while she smiled and stared at me in this odd spiritual way that is supposed to transcend silence, but made me feel more awkward still. And that was just the beginning.

I want to sum the class up in one paragraph. Basically we spent less than a quarter of the time on our feet, the majority of the class sitting cross legged and the end sleeping in the fetal position. It seemed more like a spiritual dance and chant class than yoga. We belly danced for a good ten minutes, again very awkwardly and hollered out whatever we 'needed to'. I must admit I enjoyed the belly dancing music and asked the Man to make me a cd when I got home. Everything I hated during the class, I look back on with a meek fondness. I can't remember the last time I danced like that, freely, out of rhythm, and sober. Likely not anytime after the age of 12. And we even did some breathing exercises where we hummed nursery rhymes. I don't know any nursery rhymes, so I was horrible at this, but learning important mothering skills, I think. If I do go back, which I doubt I will for a long time. Until I can't do normal yoga anymore, or I can't run freely or go to the gym with my head held high. Until that moment, I may not go back. But if I do go back, there will be two reasons, neither of them related to the physical benefit of the practice. The first is the constant humiliation I felt in the class. Rarely do I feel that stupid and uncomfortable. But, birth can often feel that way too. I can imagine feeling awkward screaming in pain, or moaning or kneeling on all fours or squatting over a toilet with a doula, a midwife, my Man and others surrounding me. I also realize that the awkwardness may cause me to clench up, to tighten my muscles and my being and make birthing impossible. This class encourages us to feel stupid and enjoy it, relax and do what feels right in front of a room full of strangers. The second important lesson was learned in the last ten minutes before shavasana (sleep time) when we stuck our arms straight up in the air and waved them up and down like birds, for ten minutes straight. My shoulders hurt after one minute. But she said we could not stop, we had to push through and so on. I am a sucker for the mantra "no pain no gain" so I jumped on this exercise as soon as she yelled "don't give up!" I watched some ladies put their arms down and my competitive edge kicked in and I flapped harder and stronger. She said "do whatever you have to but continue flapping!" I found myself closing my eyes and rotating my spine in large circles and nodding my head up and down and visualizing myself running around the last corner on a track (the worst part of my race when I ran the 800m), but in my vision I was kicking and getting stronger, I think I even saw a six pack bursting out as I continued to the finish line. And then for the first time ever a vision of me birthing popped into my mind. I was crying and sweating and looked like I was in agony, and for some reason I was flapping my arms as distraction. And I endured, I continued to circle my spine and flap my arms and tried to relax my muscles and rest whilst still contracting the muscles. My arms got warm and tingly and soft and relaxed and the pain began to vanish and it started to feel like I could continue forever...."Stop!" Back to reality, back to the awkward yoga class with older women with bigger bellies and more confident belly dancing. Back to the real me, but just a little bit more prepared perhaps.

Would I recommend prenatal yoga? Its hard to say after just one class. But I can imagine, for some women that have never exercised, doing anything during pregnancy (even if its dancing and arm flapping, aka 'yoga') is better than sitting at home eating chips and McDonalds. For others who are more active and continuing to work-out during pregnancy, I would say to try it out, but not to expect a work out physically but rather mentally. I will warn you to be prepared for the gushy, flowery lingo and the constant hugging of your 'babies'. This I was not prepared for, you see I have yet to develop an attachment to my 3 oz. baby because I have yet to see it bulge from my belly. I need a visual bump before I hug my baby and talk to my baby and sing disjointed nursery rhymes. After that class, I feel that I may be alone with my feelings of disconnect. Perhaps tonight I will belly dance and hmmm and haaa and hug my baby and work on that 'bond' in the privacy of my home and the company of myself.