Morning sickness is different for everyone. For me, it would be worse if I had to wake up to an alarm. If I didn't let my body get enough sleep that I could wake up on my own, look out. I'd be chucking in the bathroom at least three or four times before being able to get out the door. The room would be spinning, my body would feel lethargic and weak, and my stomach would be turning. If I did wake up on my own, I wouldn't feel as lethargic, the room wouldn't spin much, and my stomach would be turning but not enough to make me throw up - unless I tried to exert too much energy. This was daily, starting at about 6 or 7 weeks and not really letting up until about 17 or 18 weeks. For which I am grateful - I know a lot of people experience this throughout their entire pregnancy. My deepest sympathies to you - there's no way I'd be pregnant again, ever, if that were how my pregnancy with Harlee went. Although I did find that my prescription prenatal vitamin that I got from the pharmacy prescribed by a conventional doctor made me SUPER sick. Once I quit taking it the severity of my morning sickness was nearly cut in half. Makes me wonder how many women suffer by pharmaceutically-induced morning sickness... Please know what you're putting in your body - choose your vitamins wisely, making sure that they come from clean, whole food sources and not from a laboratory. Synthetic vitamins can wind up causing way worse side effects than morning sickness...
Anyway, during those ten or so weeks of morning sickness, I really couldn't do anything. My routine had always been going to Flex on Wednesday and Friday mornings at 8, which would require me to get up early enough to shower, change into my workout clothes, pack clean clothes, get Harlee packed and dressed, and then out of the house to drop him off at the babysitter in time for me to get to the 8am class. This would also require me setting an alarm. When morning sickness kicked in, I realized this was not going to work. The first week of morning sickness, I woke up to an alarm both days and proceeded immediately to the bathroom where I'd wretch and hurl until I had myself talked into crawling back into bed to die instead of forcing myself to go work out. Thank goodness Harlee isn't a morning person and he'll sleep until 10 if you let him. So I skipped. And I felt terrible and guilty about it.
My mood was beginning to swing again, I was starting to revisit some of the emotions and feelings and thoughts from my days of postpartum depression, and I was just an unpleasant person to be around. I was angry with the world, angry with the higher powers that put me in this mess, and angry at myself for agreeing to let this happen, AGAIN. For allowing myself to forget about how miserable this was the first time around. I missed being able to work out. And worse, I couldn't even do anything to try to stay healthy at home, either, like eating right. Eating would be the one thing that helped stave off morning sickness. If I had something in my stomach, it wouldn't turn as much (which is very counter-intuitive to any illness I've ever experienced in the past - usually eating would make me even more sick). Only problem was I could only choke down certain foods. Fruits and vegetables? Barf. Nuts and seeds? Barf. Any foods made with the above ingredients? Don't even think about it. Every now and then bacon and eggs sounded good, which has always been my breakfast go-to, but even that wasn't very often. No, it was saltine crackers, Cheerios, chicken noodle soup, or Spaghetti-Os for me. Which meant I had to go out and buy that stuff because those things don't exist in our house and haven't for over a year. And those kinds of foods create addictions in the body and slow the immune system, so I was then battling colds, sinus drainage, coughs, and all kinds of fun things like that, all while feeling fatigued and, not to mention depressed. And I just kept craving more.
It was not a happy time!!
It took awhile to get myself away from the heavy carbs and processed food addiction I had created for myself, even after morning sickness had subsided. But I'm finally back, and my moods have balanced themselves back out too.
For the record, let me recommend oat straw tea to any pregnant momma experiencing unpleasant mood swings. If I remembered to drink that on a daily basis, my moods weren't NEARLY as awful as they could be. It was kind of a miracle. The only trick was remembering to drink it every day, and I'm not very good at stuff like that. But when I did, ah, there was a light at the end of the tunnel and my hope and faith were restored.
So, I missed the last part of November and the entire month of December at Flex. Then it kept snowing. And snowing. And freezing. And snowing. My work schedule got all messed up from cancellations, and I never made it back in to Flex. One snow day in early January Derek posted a WOD for everyone to do at home since it was too dangerous to try getting to the gym, and I DID IT. It was brutal, but I did it. And I'm actually kind of grateful for it, because it eased me back in instead of throwing me back in. I found I hadn't lost EVERYthing I had achieved from the last seven months of working out, like I was afraid of - in fact I did a lot better than I expected considering how drained and weak and sick I had been feeling for the last month and a half. And then I started going back to classes when I could. I went in the evenings instead of the mornings, as mornings still made me a bit nervous and if I got up too early and felt sick from it, it would kind of mess up my whole day, and I slowly got back into the swing of things. I built my stamina back up and successfully ran 5.4 miles in Arizona (which was SUCH an amazing feeling!) and at that point, I knew I was back. I made it over the mountain and I was ready to conquer the next obstacle, whatever it may be.I changed my work schedule at the beginning of February, and I've been able to attend Flex three days a week (Tuesday and Thursday mornings and Friday afternoons), plus add in yoga on Tuesday nights.
One obstacle I ran into recently was running. So I ran that mini marathon, which was great and only made me have to pee a couple times as things were starting to get a little heavy on my bladder down there. Then I ran the 6k across the Stan Musial bridge in St. Louis on February 8th, which was also great but I was definitely quite a bit slower than before but I still completed it without stopping. Then the weather was disgusting up until recently, and we were blessed with a glorious spring-like Wednesday and I had a break in my afternoon. I changed into some running clothes and headed out to the park where I planned to do at least two, maybe three laps around the 3/4 mile trail. I got about halfway through the trail and felt like I had to pee. I kept pressing on and as I did I felt an even stronger pressure. As I neared the end of the lap I was in pain and couldn't decide if I had to pee or if I had brought on some Braxton-hicks contractions. And of course the bathrooms were locked because, well, technically it's still winter. I sat in my car trying to decide what to do, which led to feeling sorry for myself. It was a very strong reminder of how unpredictable pregnancy is, and how out of control you really are. A reminder that, while I want to keep exercising throughout this pregnancy, I may not actually get to. Any health issue could arise that I have no control over, that may force me into bed rest or something terrible. And here I was, not even half way through the pregnancy, and I was experiencing pains that I realized were forcing me to stop activity and rest. But I didn't want to. The first nice day in what felt like forever, and I didn't get to enjoy it. It's not fair!
But I knew it was best to stop, and so I did. I went back to my office, nearly wanting to cry, and tried to think of ways to pick myself up. I reached out to a couple of people whom I find motivational, who might be able to offer me comfort or encouragement during this state of such disappointment and let-down. But no response. So, I was forced inward to reflect on this alone. I tried so hard to applaud myself on trying, for at least making it 3/4 of a mile, for sticking with crossfit like I have for the past several weeks. But nothing was making me feel better. The shocking reminder that I have no control over this was too overpowering.
Fortunately I did bounce back - I got back to crossfit without any trouble, and met with a friend of mine to run that Friday afternoon (who was, fortunately, a complete beginner with running so we were perfect for each other's pace and it felt great). But I'm staying even more focused on the present. Trying to enjoy each workout as it comes, not knowing if I'll be coming back for more the next time or not. It's a scary thought, but I guess everything about this journey is scary if you think about it. Everything is unpredictable. The best I can do is be prepared for that unpredictability, and take it in stride.
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