The Time is Now

Despite my intentions otherwise, basically the moment we began the whole moving process back in February, I put all my fitness goals on hold. I may have made it to the gym to run a few times and to a couple of yoga classes before we left Seattle, and I think I went to the gym in the hotel we were living in here while we worked on our house once to use the treadmill. But that's it. My baseline poor posture, bad mattresses in the hotel and our inability thus far to find a mattress for our new bed here at home that is supportive enough without being too firm, carrying around a healthy tot day in and day out, and just lots and lots of emotional stress with no exercise to counter any of it have left my body weak and in knots. (Well, weak except for my arms. Mom arms are a real thing.) 

I mentioned before that I found a wonderful online community Healthy Habits for Happy Moms (HHHM) earlier this year. And that group has changed the way I look at my own body and think about food and exercise. I can honestly say now that I am completely comfortable in my own skin. I have let go of the idea that there are things wrong with my body that need to be fixed. I will never again believe I should eliminate anything completely from my diet for any length of time, I accept that I know how to nourish myself and that as long as I pay attention to what my body needs, it's all ok. I am not coming back to exercise with any end goal. I want to be strong and have stamina for life. I have also learned that taking care of myself means a lot more than a balanced diet and regular exercise. I know I have to work at my mental and emotional health too, as I just discussed a couple of posts ago. Period. And that's all pretty amazing. EVERY WOMAN should join this group. 

But post-move after finally getting into our house we were still in survival mode with so much to do before we could even begin to function in our new space that regaining control over my diet and working out were distant dreams. So I decided to start with the most basic of measures just to be doing something to take care of myself. I set the goals of drinking four twenty ounce bottles of water each day and going to bed by midnight. I decided that once I had made those two things habits, it would be a good indication that I might be ready to move on to bigger things. And with these two most basic of self care measures, I struggled. At times mightily. In the meantime we did get our kitchen together and found a good, easy source for our groceries and were finally able to stop eating (so much) take out and start preparing our own food. But not succeeding at drinking the quantity of water or getting to sleep as prescribed made getting back to exercising feel like something I couldn't handle/didn't deserve. Even though overall I was making a conscious effort and doing better, I'd sort of set myself up to really feel my failures by making these things preconditions to move on to the next bit of self-care I wanted to tackle which was getting back to working out.   

Furthermore, I really, really wanted to get back into moving my body by going regularly to a yoga class. I've never really tried to have an at home practice because I love that sense of community that comes with going to a studio, that's just how I like to do yoga. And there is a nice-looking studio down the road that does the Ashtanga/vinyasa/power style of yoga that I love. My plan was to do a combination of yoga and running (some day weight training too), but my body was so sore and stiff, that jumping into running without spending a few weeks stretching it out first and then continuing to do so, seemed like I would just be asking for trouble. I had heard about a free online program, 30 Days of Yoga with Adriene via HHHM, that I was even willing to try in lieu of making it to a class. But every time I would consider moving forward, ounces of water or bedtime be damned, getting to the class wouldn't work out with Greg's work schedule (unfortunately the studio doesn't offer daycare or have any parent/baby classes) or there was some project that I needed to be working on rather than find time in the day to start the 30 Days program. So for the last couple of months, I've just kept being the martyr, either to my own causes or others', sacrificing any attempt at exercise to circumstances that just felt impossible. 

Until this week. Greg was traveling for work this week and I didn't want to end up feeling completely drained by the time he came home again (see link to post above for more on that). So to combat that feeling, I decided to make it a point to do a few specific things to take care of myself and resuming exercise was one of the things I decided to do. I am not a fan of the "No Excuses" thing. I think there are plenty of really damn good excuses for not exercising. A person has to be ready and able to come to it. They have to find a way around the things standing between them and working out. And sometimes that's truly impossible. But this week I let go of all my expectations and preconceived notions. For some reason I was craving running so badly that I decided not to worry about the "yoga first" mandate I'd given myself and started c25k at the beginning. I also started 30 Days (which I love so far). And right now I feel… sore and exhausted, though I do feel some unwinding happening. I started on Tuesday so I have two runs and three days of yoga under my belt. I had just come off a weekend that included some hard physical work in the yard. On top of the physical demands of single parenting a toddler for a few days (not sure if I mentioned, but baby became a crawler about a month ago), it's been a lot. But I know that if I also make sure to allow myself time to rest it will start to get easier. Of course that will be a whole other challenge. Making time for exercise has been hard enough, making time for doing nothing sounds like the next impossibility. :)

Pictured above are glimpses of the Maumee River (they don't call it River Road for nothing) on our (of course Ida has been my running partner) runs . And savasana and reclined pigeon (my favorite).

1000 Words

The last half of July was a little on the stressful side. We had family then friends visiting two weekends in a row. Greg traveled quite a bit for work around their visits. Then last week after having appointments in the evening two of the three nights he was home, he left on Thursday, not to return until Sunday morning after taking the redeye back from Seattle. By the time he left for that trip, I was in survival mode. Meaning because I hadn't had a break from baby care in days, because we were struggling and failing to keep our heads above water when it came to routine house and yard work, let alone make progress on the mile long list of projects both inside and out, and because I had let all my self care slide (which at this point pretty much consists of actively trying to drink water throughout the day and trying to go to bed before midnight, not exactly unrealistic goals in theory anyway), I was not in a good place. I was in a horrible funk. My head was filled with negative thoughts that were spilling freely out of my mouth. All of the reasons I should be feeling gratitude were abundantly clear as I looked around, but I couldn't internalize them. Like puffy clouds they just went away when I tried to grasp them and actually feel thankful. I couldn't focus on anything, it was the Buddhist/meditation/yoga concept of monkey mind in full effect. My eye was twitching.

When Greg got home Sunday morning, he took Ida for the day, which allowed him to not only get to spend time with her, but participate in nap time too to help him recover from his night spent in the air. Meanwhile, I got some time to myself. I ran errands then came home and worked outside cleaning Greg's car (in an attempt to make up for the bad attitude I directed at him before I left), mowing and gardening. I should state explicitly 1) Greg is a great father, he's a great husband. He helps me with all the things constantly. And when he's not being those things or doing that, he is immersed in his career, making it all possible for us. 2) I love being a stay at home mom right now. Ida is amazing and she could not be an easier baby in every way. And I am so grateful for her and that I get to be with her every day during these early years. But I am an introverted person and after all that's been written and discussed about introverted people in recent years, I finally understand that I recharge mentally and emotionally by being alone. Just me and the thoughts in my head without having to interact on a meaningful level with anyone else, not even my bright, sweet,  easy-going 11 month old. And if I don't get some alone time, my proverbial cup drains dry. And by last Sunday, that's exactly what had happened.

Crossing things off my to do list especially if that involves physical work, always helps me to feel better. Wrapping up for the day, the funk had lifted away, my mind had refocused, the gratitude came back inside.

My point in all this being that all of the perfectly focused, cropped and filtered photos presented on social media never tell quite the whole story for anyone. Everyone probably knows that deep down others not only have nice houses and pretty things, go interesting places, eat delicious looking food, and have adorable children, they struggle too, with any number of things, daily. But it's easy to forget when you're looking at the heavily edited highlight reels that there are hundreds of outtakes for every shot deemed worthy of sharing.  I've seen efforts by others in the past to acknowledge this, and so I just wanted to say "yeah, me too". I enjoy the pursuit of aesthetics and photography and writing, that's why I'm here and why this spot looks and sounds the way it does. But I do have even bigger problems than cutely deer-nibbled hostas. Generally, they are pretty minor as problems go, but that doesn't mean things don't stack up and overwhelm me from time to time. 

Greg was home all of this past week and now we are in Columbus having a little family mini-vacay. So things are definitely looking way up over where they were a week ago. Stay tuned for the highlights. :)

Oh and these are highlights from Sunday out in the garden 1) love this heuchera/begonia combo I came up with for a hanging basket, will have to repeat next year 2) Ida's sunflowers from seeds I put in her Easter basket on the verge of blooming 3) end of day boot wash 4) hoof prints as evidence

And in 1

Happy Day 64
I didn't take weekly or even monthly belly pictures during my pregnancy nor did I have a maternity photo shoot. Not because I didn't like both ideas, but because turning up on a regular basis in the same place, at the same time of day, in a similar outfit each time with cutely printed "Week __" sign and Greg to take the picture was just not in the cards, and I never made finding a professional photographer and scheduling a session a priority. There were just too many other things to take care of first. So while I have pictures of me "with" Peanut, I don't have the thorough documentation I thought I might.

I took this picture of my 39 week 4 day tummy just in the nick of time as my water broke (sort of) at 4am the next morning and about 23 hours after that I was holding little Ida. And I'm so glad I took it as I think its the only bare bump shot I have. Now when I look at it I feel proud of my body for growing the healthy, vibrant little human it did and thankful for the opportunity to experience pregnancy, birth and motherhood. 

Four months before I found out I was pregnant with Ida, I had a miscarriage at six weeks. Greg and I had been not not trying to have a baby for over two years. Nothing was wrong. It just wasn't happening. And then suddenly it did. Suddenly I was staring at a positive test, feeling the joy and fear of the unknown that are probably standard issue. Are we ready? Will we be any good at this? Exactly what do we do? Now? Eight months from now? After that? Another unknown, maybe no less common source of fear than the others, which quickly became a nagging obsession for me, was how my body would change during pregnancy. I was terrified of baby weight, stretch marks and loose skin. I spent hours googling images of postpartum bellies, searching desperately for reassurance that my stomach wouldn't be "ruined" and trying to find consensus as to the best method or magic potion to prevent it.  Then, before I had fully wrapped my head around the tiny little person-to-be inside that stomach I was so worried about the appearance of, but not before I had integrated him or her into every thought about the future, I started spotting. We went to the doctor. We saw a tiny heart beating. A couple of days later the spotting became heavier bleeding. We went back to the doctor. Baby was gone. No more tiny heart beating. As suddenly as it had happened, it was over. As my hormone levels plunged over the following couple of days, trying again seemed completely off the table. It just wasn't worth the agonizing worry followed by the heartbreaking emptiness should the same thing happen again. On top of that, into that emptiness had rushed a hatred of all mothers, mothers-to-be, and their perfect, healthy, living babies with hearts thumping away in their little chests. How could I want something I now despised? It just didn't make any sense. And then the fog lifted. Things leveled out. And I wanted nothing more than to try again, to be healed by the sight of another positive test, the renewed dream of a future with a child. 

Four months later, I was holding that positive test and once again imagining how it would all go, trying to see past the long shadow of doubt to the other side. It was impossible to keep the fear that something would once again go wrong properly tempered with hope and positivity while simultaneously keeping hope and positivity properly tempered with the reality that something may very well once again go wrong. Balance was impossible for long, with fear often winning out and consuming my thoughts with worse case scenarios. Despite everything, despite losing my first baby, despite the fear of losing the one I was now carrying, despite my immense gratitude for getting pregnant again and so quickly, fear about the "toll" of pregnancy on my body soon crept right back in to mingle with all the others. After recovering from the miscarriage I had thrown myself into running and yoga and had gotten into perhaps the best shape I'd ever been in. I couldn't wait for my bump to appear but at the same time I was acutely grieving the figure I thought I'd likely never see again, the six pack I had foolishly thought I might be headed towards that would now certainly never be. And then spotting again. I honestly don't remember if we saw the heartbeat that first time at the doctor. Still some spotting. I'm sure we must have seen it the second. Still spotting, but nothing heavier. A waiting game. And then it went away and never came back and I went on to have a normal, healthy pregnancy. 

Somewhere in there I came to terms with the almost complete lack of control I had over most aspects of my journey towards and hopefully into motherhood. This left me to take comfort in a concept I had learned in my yoga practice, the concept of Ahimsa, literally "non-violence", but as explained to me by a teacher, more accurately described as "loving kindness towards all living things, including and beginning with oneself." I stopped looking for pictures of postpartum bellies that I deemed flat enough to be worthy of admiration. I started looking for ways to accept the changes that would come if I stayed pregnant. In my searching I found one particularly sane voice, Jennifer of Mama Lion Strong that I've been following ever since. In March she helped to found a fantastic (closed, you just have to ask to join) Facebook group, Healthy Habits for Happy Moms. Mama Lion Strong and the group are both all about health, both physical and emotional, balance in nutrition and exercise, and cultivating healthy body image for a sustainably happy life. No particular programs or diets are endorsed, and their promotion isn't allowed in the group. The group is just a great safe place to ask questions, share the good and the bad, and connect with other women. And in the few months I've belonged I've learned a ton about myself and how to approach my own journey into motherhood and beyond. Above all, I really, really want to be a good role model for Ida. I don't want her to grow up watching her mother struggle with a dysfunctional relationship with food and/or exercise, swinging back and forth from feast to famine in regards to either. Nor do I want her to grow up listening to me berate my body or the bodies of other women for not conforming to the "ideal" depicted by glossy pictures in magazines (or on a computer screen). Because before she starts reading those magazines or surfing the web, before she's in school or on social media,  she'll begin to learn how she should think and talk about her body from me, studies prove girls learn the most from their moms on this one. And I don't want her to grow up thinking that as a woman she will always have to strive to "fix" what's wrong, I want her to love herself always, to be healthy always and to be happy always. So, little by little as we settle back into a normal routine in our new city in our new home I'm building the foundation to show her the way. And maybe some day when it's her turn to become a mommy, she'll be free to just plain revel in it.