#MyCrazy Returns... A Big Scare for #HundtBaby4
End of August and September: 4-7 weeks pregnant with #HundtBaby4
After lots of years of searching, I think I've finally found my favorite exercise avenue- spinning. The pace is fast, the music is fantastic, and I leave there exhausted and sweaty.
I had been spinning since last April and was to the point now where I was all in- I asked for bike shoes for my birthday, work out clothes with words about spinning, and was looking forward to continuing to push myself and get more and more in shape.
When I found out I was pregnant at the end of August, I made a commitment to myself that this pregnancy was going to be different. If I was lucky enough to get a chance to do this pregnancy thing one more time, I was going to have a different type of pregnancy- a calmer one, a less frantic one, one that I could really enjoy and relish instead of worry and fret. I was also going to take better physical care of myself.
Because of #mycrazy, when I've gotten pregnant, I do not exercise really. I know exercise was not the cause of my two miscarriages- I know that, really I do. However, #mycrazy has a mind of its own (actually, it's my own brain struggling, which is why everyone should be grateful they don't have to spend any time with my brain and my thoughts). It does not take much to convince me that instead of continuing to run, instead of continuing to strength train, instead of continuing to spin... I should be sitting with my feet in the air as much as possible ;)
Not taking very good physical care of myself has definitely had an affect on me, both during pregnancy and after. During pregnancy, especially at the end, my body is physically spent. With the twins, I literally couldn't even walk to the mailbox because my knees, ankles, and thighs hurt so badly. Yes, I was carrying two babies and like 65 extra pounds that my body wasn't used to, but I'm certain if I had moved more regularly, taken more walks maybe, I would've felt better.
After pregnancy, I am an out of shape disaster. I cry every time I go back to working out because I am so disappointed with what I can't do- little things, easy tasks, short distances that completely wipe me out. Again, if I had been more physical during pregnancy, I'm sure I would've bounced back a little easier.
I was going to shut #mycrazy up this time- I was determined!!!!!
So, there I was, newly pregnant, waking my butt up, sometimes at 5:00am to make a couple of spinning classes a week. I was doing it! I was going to stay in better shape with this baby! To heck with you #mycrazy! I AM DONE!
And then...
Two weeks after I had found out I was pregnant, I got home from spinning and used the bathroom. In my underwear, was blood. In the toilet was a dime-sized blood clot. I was absolutely certain I had just miscarried my baby. I crumbled to the bathroom floor in tears muttering "no, no, no" over and over and over again. Josh tried to console me, but he knew too that the clot didn't look good. I knew how teeny tiny my baby was. We called the doctor right when the office opened begging to be seen. Thankfully, they were able to get me in that afternoon. I was only six weeks pregnant exactly.
I spent most of the morning crying knowing with every inch of my being that if this baby wasn't to be, we were done- done trying to have another baby. I couldn't do this again. I had only been pregnant for two weeks and my soul was aching, my brain hurting, my fear crippling. I couldn't put myself through months and months of this again. If this was over, it was over for good for us. I hated thinking like that but that was absolutely my truth. I also spent the day praying over and over again that maybe things would be okay- maybe this was just a fluke and our baby, our teeny tiny baby, would be safely inside of me.
In the waiting room, God played some serious tricks on me. Two families came in with moms visibly pregnant with their third and fourth children. The small children they had each asked to be read to by their parents. One little boy and one little girl- probably both around Carter's age, the boy actually named Carter, had gotten a book from the table and walked over and asked their parents to read the books to them. Both sets of parents said no. Both sets of parents were on their phone. Those were the people in the waiting room with me while I was waiting to confirm that I wasn't pregnant anymore. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I laid down on the table in the ultrasound room, I half heard the tech let me know that there was a good chance, because I was so early, that even if the baby was fine, we might not hear a heartbeat. As she fished around in there, I can't even explain how I felt- a murky combination of scared, hopeful, heartbroken, sick, and honestly mad at myself that I went spinning, which is stupid and I know it.
Josh was pacing back and forth breathing loudly. Time seem to stand still. Then, I saw it...
A small gray circular mass. I've had enough early ultrasounds to know that something was in my uterus. Was it a baby? was it just leftover tissue? Then, as the tech zoomed in, I saw a heart beating.
There was a baby in there. Through tears and sighs Josh and I held each other- overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude. I stared at that little miracle as long as we could, clutching the picture with clenched hands after it was given to us. Our baby was still there- still alive.
As I sat down in the passenger seat to drive home, I knew something had come back with a vengeance- #mycrazy. She was back as strong as ever. After this scare, my pregnancy would be no different than the rest- I would be panicking and worrying, and sitting with my legs in the air as often as I could. My first words to Josh while driving were, "Well, I guess I'm done with spinning for nine months."
Listen, these are the cards I've been dealt. I have crippling worry while pregnant- fear overtakes me.
I tried to fight #mycrazy during this pregnancy, but after that moment, I had to embrace her because she wasn't going anywhere.
I am thankful and grateful and appreciative every single step of the way, but also so scared, and fearful, and nervous every step of the way.
That is me, pregnant.
After lots of years of searching, I think I've finally found my favorite exercise avenue- spinning. The pace is fast, the music is fantastic, and I leave there exhausted and sweaty.
I had been spinning since last April and was to the point now where I was all in- I asked for bike shoes for my birthday, work out clothes with words about spinning, and was looking forward to continuing to push myself and get more and more in shape.
When I found out I was pregnant at the end of August, I made a commitment to myself that this pregnancy was going to be different. If I was lucky enough to get a chance to do this pregnancy thing one more time, I was going to have a different type of pregnancy- a calmer one, a less frantic one, one that I could really enjoy and relish instead of worry and fret. I was also going to take better physical care of myself.
Because of #mycrazy, when I've gotten pregnant, I do not exercise really. I know exercise was not the cause of my two miscarriages- I know that, really I do. However, #mycrazy has a mind of its own (actually, it's my own brain struggling, which is why everyone should be grateful they don't have to spend any time with my brain and my thoughts). It does not take much to convince me that instead of continuing to run, instead of continuing to strength train, instead of continuing to spin... I should be sitting with my feet in the air as much as possible ;)
Not taking very good physical care of myself has definitely had an affect on me, both during pregnancy and after. During pregnancy, especially at the end, my body is physically spent. With the twins, I literally couldn't even walk to the mailbox because my knees, ankles, and thighs hurt so badly. Yes, I was carrying two babies and like 65 extra pounds that my body wasn't used to, but I'm certain if I had moved more regularly, taken more walks maybe, I would've felt better.
After pregnancy, I am an out of shape disaster. I cry every time I go back to working out because I am so disappointed with what I can't do- little things, easy tasks, short distances that completely wipe me out. Again, if I had been more physical during pregnancy, I'm sure I would've bounced back a little easier.
I was going to shut #mycrazy up this time- I was determined!!!!!
So, there I was, newly pregnant, waking my butt up, sometimes at 5:00am to make a couple of spinning classes a week. I was doing it! I was going to stay in better shape with this baby! To heck with you #mycrazy! I AM DONE!
And then...
Two weeks after I had found out I was pregnant, I got home from spinning and used the bathroom. In my underwear, was blood. In the toilet was a dime-sized blood clot. I was absolutely certain I had just miscarried my baby. I crumbled to the bathroom floor in tears muttering "no, no, no" over and over and over again. Josh tried to console me, but he knew too that the clot didn't look good. I knew how teeny tiny my baby was. We called the doctor right when the office opened begging to be seen. Thankfully, they were able to get me in that afternoon. I was only six weeks pregnant exactly.
I spent most of the morning crying knowing with every inch of my being that if this baby wasn't to be, we were done- done trying to have another baby. I couldn't do this again. I had only been pregnant for two weeks and my soul was aching, my brain hurting, my fear crippling. I couldn't put myself through months and months of this again. If this was over, it was over for good for us. I hated thinking like that but that was absolutely my truth. I also spent the day praying over and over again that maybe things would be okay- maybe this was just a fluke and our baby, our teeny tiny baby, would be safely inside of me.
In the waiting room, God played some serious tricks on me. Two families came in with moms visibly pregnant with their third and fourth children. The small children they had each asked to be read to by their parents. One little boy and one little girl- probably both around Carter's age, the boy actually named Carter, had gotten a book from the table and walked over and asked their parents to read the books to them. Both sets of parents said no. Both sets of parents were on their phone. Those were the people in the waiting room with me while I was waiting to confirm that I wasn't pregnant anymore. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I laid down on the table in the ultrasound room, I half heard the tech let me know that there was a good chance, because I was so early, that even if the baby was fine, we might not hear a heartbeat. As she fished around in there, I can't even explain how I felt- a murky combination of scared, hopeful, heartbroken, sick, and honestly mad at myself that I went spinning, which is stupid and I know it.
Josh was pacing back and forth breathing loudly. Time seem to stand still. Then, I saw it...
A small gray circular mass. I've had enough early ultrasounds to know that something was in my uterus. Was it a baby? was it just leftover tissue? Then, as the tech zoomed in, I saw a heart beating.
There was a baby in there. Through tears and sighs Josh and I held each other- overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude. I stared at that little miracle as long as we could, clutching the picture with clenched hands after it was given to us. Our baby was still there- still alive.
As I sat down in the passenger seat to drive home, I knew something had come back with a vengeance- #mycrazy. She was back as strong as ever. After this scare, my pregnancy would be no different than the rest- I would be panicking and worrying, and sitting with my legs in the air as often as I could. My first words to Josh while driving were, "Well, I guess I'm done with spinning for nine months."
Listen, these are the cards I've been dealt. I have crippling worry while pregnant- fear overtakes me.
I tried to fight #mycrazy during this pregnancy, but after that moment, I had to embrace her because she wasn't going anywhere.
I am thankful and grateful and appreciative every single step of the way, but also so scared, and fearful, and nervous every step of the way.
That is me, pregnant.
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