Finding Me

In my typical non-blogger fashion, I'm about to spew some word vomit about some stuff I've seen on the internet lately and my thoughts.

Right now, perhaps always, body image is all the rage. Love your body, anti-body shaming, positive body image, get fit, be healthy, be a super fitness rockstar. This is all great, but when I read the  posts, I feel kind of like I'm lost in the neutral zone between two camps on opposing sides.

Recently, I decided to get serious about my health. After 12 years of neglecting my body, two babies, and the realization that I was the heaviest member of my family, I'm ready to shed pounds and get healthy. I NEED to get healthy. My family history which includes heart disease, diabetes, and cancer, pretty much has dictated that.  I'm finding me again (or still, maybe). I used to be crazy active, I played sports, rode bikes, ran, danced. I'm reigniting that passion I had for movement. After being bored to tears with a 90 day in home baby-step boot camp type workout, I found a fitness program that I genuinely love, and have been having a blast dancing around our playroom like a jackass while no one is looking. That is kind of beside the point. I love a lot of the fitness blogs that I've been reading. They're inspiring, they give me hope. They're honest, it won't be easy, but it will be worth it. It's really cool. I'm there, I'm on my way. Get healthy, be a better you, love who you will be... Fitness camp, camp #1.

Camp # 2 is the You are beautiful as you are camp. I get it. Truly, I do. Even at my heaviest, I felt beautiful, empowered and totally secure in my body. It took a long time to get there. Having children and realizing that my body grew these amazing creatures really, really, helped with that. Honestly, my body image was more distorted and self-hating when I was the picture of fitness because of the number that was on the jeans and dresses I wore.
I have felt more beautiful looking like this:

and this:

than I ever did when I looked like this:

So, Camp #2, I get you too and I have much love, BUT...

I sit here wondering, where do I belong and how do I give a voice to the people who are like me, if there are any. I love my body! I don't care that my belly looks like a rounded road map because of all of the stretch marks I've "earned" over the years. I love all of my plus size glory, and I don't give a flying you know what if anyone doesn't, but I'm rapidly changing my body to get healthy. Despite my acceptance, I'm seeking to change myself, and for the better.  My new program, Yoga Booty Ballet, had a 7 Day Slim Down that I just completed and I lost 13 all over inches in 7 days! I was (and still am) pumped! My blood pressure at my last doctor's appointment was 117/76. I have lost 40 pounds in the last year. So I wonder, do casual observers who hang out on the fringe of my facebook life or the folks at church who don't know me that well, assume that I'm doing this because I don't accept or love my body? I feel like that is what camp #2 people might begin to think. "She must be doing this because she doesn't love herself."  I'm seeking this change so I must not love my body as it is.  Do camp #1 people feel like I have a place with them, because, after all, I just admitted that I loved my body at a scale tipping 314 pregnant pounds and love my body now that it is not as big, but still no where close to the girl you see in the last picture (who, just to let you know, was ALSO a plus size. That's right ladies and gentlefolk, that's a size 12-and a whole other blog post). I feel like a lot of times, that camp advocates for loving the person you will be in the future, after you've realized your fitness goals, but that you shouldn't love what you are now because you aren't done yet. Maybe I'm wrong, but that's the impression I get sometimes. 

 So I am seeking the "neutral zone folks" I suppose, in a more public forum. I love the girls in my BeachBody Challenge closed group, they get it, and me, but I want to hear MORE from people like me, who  both love their big, not so healthy bodies, but at the same time, are trying to be healthier with nutrition and exercise, not because they're trying to look pretty, skinny or stop hating themselves. Am I alone in these thoughts of feeling lost and floating out there between two groups? I don't know. I hope you'll let me know.

Growing up

They are growing up so quickly. Eliza is almost out of 3 month clothing at close to 6 weeks. Jeb is climbing out of his crib to restart his bedtime music and really needs to have his crib switched over to a toddler bed. I could cry. Eliza may be our last baby, we haven't decided one way or the other yet, and it is rough watching her grow so quickly. She is as big as Jeb was at 3 months now. She already is too long for the bassinet practically.

Although I lament their growing up, it is amazing to watch as well. Knowing that my body and the love of our little family is causing Eliza to thrive is awesome. Hearing Jeb's speech improve by leaps and bounds every day puts me in awe. Today he decided he wanted to hold his sister for the first time. He liked it for about 3 seconds, but it was still another stride in his growing up. Yes, I'll try this instead of "No, no baby ister." In the car on the way home he melted my heart. Eliza started to cry and he said, "it's okay, don't cry Eliza." It was just so sweet!

Sometimes, I can't believe that I'm this grown up. Hitting dirty 30 this month has begun to sink in. I am doing a skin care regimen that includes SPF 15. I have 2 kids, life insurance, a 7 year marriage, a car payment, and a savings account with a positive balance. The highlight of my day is getting to use the bathroom without an audience and eating something without having to share it with a toddler. I don't think 2 years ago when Jeb was just a little guy I could have even imagined that this would be my life. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

This is my world in just a few snaps of a photo lens.

Announcing Miss Eliza

So, we were off to the midwives for a growth scan and belly check during my 39th week. We found out at 36 weeks that I was measuring 5 weeks ahead. My fluid levels were borderline high, but the real reason for my large measurement was that our baby's belly was significantly larger than her head.  At my growth scan, they estimated the baby to be 10 lb 7oz, and still, with a large belly. Our midwife wasn't pleased. She told us that we were at risk of baby having shoulder dystocia. As soon as I heard those words, I burst into tears.  I knew it meant my plan and work for a VBAC was pretty much out the window.

Let me explain. Due to my weight at the time I got pregnant, my success rate for a VBAC was calcutated to be between 50 and 60%.  Knowing that, we decided to proceed as planned. I had faith in myself and my body. Some pre-existing risk factors were that present were the fact that I'd had a previous cord prolapse. There is a small chance of that repeating, and then you end up in an emergency situation again.  It was one of my biggest fears. Another risk factor was that I was dangerously close to approaching the  "magic number" of grams that the baby could be before the midwives would refuse to attempt VBAC due to size.  I had already surpassed it, if I were diabetic. With no signs of early labor, the midwife held my hand and assured me that in addition to the risk of cord prolapse, I would most certainly pass the magic number if I remained pregnant another week. I went to 41 weeks and was induced with Jeb, so the likelihood of going post date again was high. Then the shoulder dystocia. The risks there are a very painful, traumatic birth experience for mom, where baby's shoulders get stuck in the birth canal and have to be "manipulated" to get the baby out. Typically once the head is out, you are out of the woods, but since her belly measured larger, it wouldn't be the case if I were to attempt vaginal delivery. The risk to  baby include death, similar to cord prolapse, the cord can get pinched between the shoulders during the labor. I recently became acquainted with a woman who had a 10 lber and went through a labor with shoulder dystocia. Her son is 6 months old and she still has not recovered from the traumatic experience. He was stuck for 15 minutes during her home birth, and she and baby had to go to the hospital after the birth. I knew as soon as the midwife said it, that it was going to be a no go, but explained what it meant to hubs and we decided together that an elective c-section, albeit unwanted, was the safest route to go.

After the midwife consulted with the doctor, her advice was confirmed, and because of how far along I was, the doctor ordered a non-stress test.The doctor also wanted to section me that day, but I refused. We needed at least the rest of the day to cope with the information and decision we'd made and make arrangements for my parents to drive the 300 miles out to care for Jeb while hubs and I were in the hospital. I was having a few small contractions, but nothing enough for them to send me up to labor and delivery to attempt a vaginal birth. My midwife offered to do a cervix check and see if I was dilated enough to consider an induction, but I refused. The last thing I wanted to hear was that my body was doing what it was supposed to this time and I couldn't proceed because I grow big babies. The midwife's final prescription was to go home and go out to dinner because I wouldn't be able to eat for a good long time due to the surgery. My surgery was scheduled for 10 am on Saturday, September 15th.

We had to get to the hospital at 6 am so I could be prepped. It was an interesting experience. One of the midwives was there to check in with me during prep. I had a great L&D nurse who shared my birthday and was also a pastor's wife. She was really sweet. It was hard waiting all that time. I was most scared of the spinal block. I hated how the anesthesiologist talked about how there would be tugging and pulling on my uterus. That's not exactly comforting for a person awaiting a c-section to hear. I was all ready to go and waiting for an O.R. to be cleaned for awhile. I guess it was a busy morning for baby delivery via c-section. They were ready to take me back when my L&D nurse came in and told me that they needed to draw one more blood sample because I had had a significant bleed during my last section. It was the first I had heard that. I really regret ever trusting my previous O.B. practice. I expected honesty and transparency. Oh well, they are out of my life for good. Finally it was time to go back. They were running a little behind. I was nervous because they started taking me back and my midwife was nowhere to be found. I asked for her once we got to the O.R. and they called her. She held my hand and helped me get through getting the spinal block. The worst part was the local anesthetic that was injected first.  The hubs wasn't allowed to be with me when they did the spinal and got me prepped, but arrived in a white paper suit shortly after I was all ready. He kept saying "you're actually smiling."  It was a lot less traumatic for me and I was excited that I'd be awake to meet my baby girl.

It went a lot slower than my emergency section must have, but it was worth the wait. My beautiful daughter was born at 11:14 am, and I am so happy to say that I shed tears when I heard her cry for the first time.  It felt like forever listening to the nurses recovering her talking about how big and beautiful she was. I just wanted to see her! That is really the most unfair part of a c-section birth. You don't get to see your baby right away, others get to admire them first. Finally the recovery process was done and I got to meet my little girl. Eliza weighed in at 9lb. 1oz. Not as big as they said, but still bigger than her brother was by a good bit.

It is three weeks later, to the day, and we're adjusting to being a family of 4. Jeb had a rough start, but is getting a little better at realizing that Eliza's here to stay each day. He is generally gentle with her and he likes to give her kisses on her head and tweak her nose and say "ah-wooga!" We are getting decent sleep, but it doesn't feel like it with an active toddler in the house. We're running on coffee and prayers. Eliza's pretty easy going for the most part. She doesn't like to be laid in her swing or bouncy seat while she's awake, and her party hour seems to be from 3-6 am.  She also won't take a pacifier. Her big brother won't give his up. Its a blessing and a curse that she doesn't take one.  She didn't like her first bath and she doesn't really care for her carseat either. That is going to make for interesting trips across the state to visit family. The first of which we are conducting this week.

We aren't sure if our family is complete or not, but we know that we don't want anymore kids for awhile. I believe the hubs has a 2018 plan or something. We'll see how things go and re-evaluate as time passes. I would still love to attempt a VBAC if we should have more children, and hopefully the next one will be planned and I can be in good health physically and be a better candidate.

Its BABY month!

I can't believe that the wait for our sweet little girl is almost over. Her expected date of arrival is in just 17 days now. All of the hoping, planning and preparing time is almost at an end. I've been doing some frantic last minute nesting. Today we got our room in order and set up the bassinet in our room. We also rearranged furniture in the living room to make room for the tummy time mat and swing. Hopefully we can get the last few rooms of the house that need attention cleaned up before the little one decides to arrive.

I'm super excited to experience  birth. I am so thrilled with the choice I made to change providers, even if driving to the city once a week is less convenient. At "Meet the Midwives" there were two that I felt a connection with, where I was feeling "whoa, I hope that she is on call during my labor," and the one I had my appointment with on Friday was the same. Instead of feeling like I'm going into a battle ground, I feel like I'm going to head into a well supported birth that will be just beautiful.

I can't speak enough about how beneficial Bradley Method classes were for me. Even if my worst fears are realized and I end up having to have a repeat section, I do feel that Bradley has made me a healthier, happier person throughout this pregnancy. We went on a 10 day vacation during my 36th and 37th week. I never would have done that during J's pregnancy. I have felt so much better, and just from doing simple exercises and loosely following the diet recommendations. With J, I started swelling in April (he was born in July). This time, I have only just started swelling at the end of the day  a week ago.

Its been an incredible journey, and although I didn't get the chance to prepare myself as fully as I wanted to be the perfect hostess for our baby girl, I have faith that my body will do what it was made to do when our little girly is ready to make an appearance.

Here are a couple shots from our vacation. We were at the camp we got married at to celebrate the marriage of two good friends of ours. It was a lovely weekend and brought a bunch of reminiscing.

Big baby bump at 37 weeks

Jeb loved all the opportunities to swim, Little Beaver Lake, here in Bear Creek, and in Trout Run

Eric and I  at the Gully-Ford (Gulliford?!?)

Game Change

After a lot of thought, discussion between the two of us, and a discussion with our Bradley instructor, I think we are going to seek the care of a Certified Nurse Midwife at one of the two hospitals in the area who allow midwives privileges.
I am just so unconvinced that my doctors are being truthful, and I don't want to end up on my back, doing battle to let my body do its thing. I don't think a birthing room should be a battle ground and from everything I've heard from my doctors, I am going to have to make it one to get what I want. I just want to focus on my body, what it is doing, what its made to do. I am so grateful that even though he doesn't understand why this is so important to me, he is so supportive!

I'm not looking forward to fighting with insurance to switch, but I'd rather fight with insurance now than fight with a doctor while in labor. I'm slightly scared, but I know I'm doing what's going to be best for us.

 I guess I never understood the gravity of Jeb's birth experience until last night. I couldn't understand why our OB was so surprised that he was okay after delivery, and why she found it hard to believe me when the pediatrician said he was perfect. The OB never verbalized it, but our Bradley instructor, who's also a Doula said she has seen births where the cord washes down, and that we were literally a breath and a prayer away from Jeb having CP and having a lawsuit against the practice. God is good for  giving us an amazing little boy. Thank you, Lord!

In my own head

I've gotten into my own head lately, or maybe I've let my Bradley teacher get into my head, but at the moment, I feel very pessimistic about my VBAC and like my doctors might be setting me up to fail. They keep telling me that due to the circumstances of J's birth, I'm a perfect candidate, but the more I ask questions, the more I feel like I'm being given some lip service. Hubs and I discussed this tonight. I wish I wasn't such a wuss. He says we'll speak with the doctor about it at my next appointment and if we don't get the answers or reassurance we want, we'll start looking for a new practitioner. I'm just so nervous this late in the game. I'm already at every two week appointments. I don't even know if a different practitioner would take me on at this point. I think I just need to find some good stories about successful, natural, hospital VBACs. Right now all I hear is "how aggressively is care managed" and I think back to how I felt so out of control when I went past my due date with J, or "what about continuous fetal monitoring" and being told that it was going to happen, so now I have to take the ACOG (American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology) recommendations on VBAC in and sign away my life pretty much, telling them I'm not going to sue if my uterus ruptures while I'm not strapped to a bed with that stupid belt attached to me. It's almost to the end of what might be my last pregnancy, and I feel like I should be enjoying it, if only I could get out of my own head and start thinking positive thoughts. Like my Bradley teacher says, "you need to think positive, open and downward moving thoughts."

Your ignorance has really hurt me

A "friend" posted this on facebook after the Supreme Court decision about the Affordable Healthcare Act was passed down this morning.
"I guess I will now be paying for your food, your booze and your insurance!!! Gotta love America!!"

I typically don't like to discuss things like this. I would rather not know my friends political views, because most of the time I just end up disgusted. I do have to say, this statement deeply offended me, and here's why.

When my husband was in seminary, I took a job with a small company. It employed so few people, that by law, it wasn't required to provide healthcare to its employees. It was a profitable business that could have afforded to provide healthcare for its few full time employees, but the owner was greedy and was more than happy to line his pockets with extra cash at the expense of his workers health. The man had a million dollar home in town, he and his wife drove luxury vehicles, and there was a large tract of land for hunting in a different state that was maintained year round for a few weekends of deer season. After our basic needs were met, there wasn't any money left over, not even for catastrophic health insurance which is around $65 a month. I really could have benefited from the Affordable Healthcare Act. I worked hard, I was paid above minimum wage, but I still couldn't afford even the cheapest of health care. It hurts that people are so blind that they don't realize how blessed they are and how serious a need this type of legislation is. I am grateful every day for the fact that I was never seriously ill while my husband was in seminary. The loans we would have had to take to pay for healthcare expenses would have financially bankrupted our future.

I also take great offense to the implication that all people on welfare are no good drunks. I have a very dear friend who was on welfare for a while. She was a young mother.