The past few weeks have been a complete whirlwind for me.  I can't believe that Christmas has come and gone and we are in the final few hours of 2013.

During the week before Christmas, I embarked on a journey to visit my family with my 8 month old son.  My husband couldn't get the time off work, so I had to travel alone.  On the way to visit my family, I wasn't really alone because two of my sisters traveled with me.  It was nice to have a few extra hands to help me carry stuff.  I was even able to carry everything on.  They helped keep B entertained when our flight was delayed.

On the way back, it was a completely different story.  I was alone in every sense of the word (well, except for having B with me) and on several occasions wanted to either scream at the top of my lungs how everyone sucks at life, or sit down and start crying in the middle of the terminal.  I have listed out a few lessons learned from the trip.  It might help someone out in the future.

1.  Check most of your luggage if you are flying solo with a baby.  I found this out the hard way even though I actually ended up checking my suitcase on the way back.  I still had a backpack, a diaper bag, blankets, a B.O.B. stroller, and a front pack (not to mention my jacket and B's jacket/hat).  No one would help me put up or take down my luggage from the overhead bins and even though they could see that I was struggling to hold the baby and reach overhead, people rolled their eyes and sighed loudly when I was holding up traffic from exiting the plane.

2.  Don't expect your baby to breastfeed on take-off/landing.  I tried to time things perfectly, but B was not interested in eating during the times that I wanted him to eat.  He wanted to squirm and look around.  I gave him his pacifier and that seemed to do the trick.  He never got too upset so I don't think he was ever really in pain from the pressure changes.

3.  Upgrade to business class, if you can.  The seats are wider and only 2 across (on my plane, anyways).  I actually sat in the first row, which was nice to have the extra space in front, but bad that I had to store everything above me.  I also got to check 2 bags for free, got free booze (didn't get to imbibe, unfortunately), and unlimited "snacks".  You also get on the plane first and off the plane first.  That is key.

4.  Bring a stroller & a front pack.  The B.O.B. is kind of bulky, but they will check it at the gate for free and you can use it to haul some of your stuff around if you keep baby in the front pack.

5.  Don't bring a bulky jacket.  Besides being a pain in the ass to get through security, you will roast your tail off on the plane when you are trying to restrain a baby when they are wiggling or when you are holding back your aggression towards a society of selfish people who watch you fall over while trying to handle a baby, a backpack, a diaper bag, blankets and a stroller.

6.  Get to the airport early.  You never know what sort of issues (ahem blowouts) you might need to deal with that could prevent you from making your flight.

7.  Bring a copy of baby's birth certificate!  They did not ask me for this on my departing flight, but they did for my return and they almost would not let me on the plane with the baby.  Luckily, it was Christmas Eve and the lady stressed how nice she was being by letting me go since I was returning home.  Phew.

8.  Beg for a gate pass for your spouse, mom, or other family member.  Another Christmas bonus that they "graciously" allowed us was a gate pass for my mom so that she could help me get through security.  I am not sure how I would have done it otherwise.  Seriously.  They say that they don't like to give these out and I guess I understand, but seriously, a mom with a baby, alone.  It is just mean to deny that.

9.  Fly in the morning.  The atmosphere is normally more stable = less turbulence.  If you are lucky, baby will sleep on the flight.  Plus, no one likes to be around a baby during the witching hour.  

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One thing that my trip blessed me with was 2 instances of a plugged duct.  This is the same one that was plugged a few weeks back, on the top right breast.  I got one the day that I got to my Mom's and the day after I got back (stress much?).  Then it decided to plug up again, last night.  

I was able to get rid of it the first few times by sterilizing a needle and pricking my nipple.  Yes, that sounds disturbing, but after G.oogling the heck out of my situation I came to find out that there was a small white "bleb" or "milk blister" on my nipple that was causing the milk to back-up.  After taking a long hot shower and pricking my nipple ever-so-slightly, I was able to get the clog out.

Last night, neither the hot shower nor the needle worked.  I squeeze my boob so hard I am sure that I have bruises.  I cried.  I woke the baby up and attempted to feed him to unclog it.  NOTHING worked.  I was ready to jump out the window.  I ended up taking 2 ibuprofen, slathering my nipple in lanolin cream, taping a band-aid over it, and going to bed, resigning myself to the fact that I would wake up with mastitis.

The baby woke up at midnight and I decided to try feeding him again, only this time, I tried something else that sounded ridiculous when I had seen in on G.oogle, but I was desperate.  I laid my half asleep baby on my bed with his head pointing towards the head of the bed.  I leaned over him with my head facing the foot of the bed and let him eat that way.  His chin was pointing right at the clogged area.  Low and behold the plug was out after 5 minutes of sucking.  Sweet relief.  Thank you baby.

This morning I fed him again the same way at around 4:30 AM before getting ready for work.  After the feeding I slathered my nipple in lanolin and taped on another band-aid.  I am praying that this stops happening.  I really want to make it to 12 months breastfeeding.  3 1/2 more months to go!

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Part of the CrossFit experience is following a paleo diet.  Right now, I am following a paleoish diet.  For the most part I don't eat much in the way of grain, except for my daily bowl of Barbara's Oatmeal Squares.  I don't eat any dairy and I don't eat any soy.  I stay away from most sugars, but eat honey, maple syrup, and agave from time to time.  I eat dried fruit at least once a day.

January at my "box" is the Paleo Challenge.  This is basically where you follow a fairly strict paleo diet for a full month and document everything.  There are actually cash prizes for the people who lose the most body fat/weight.  One thing I disagree with though is that they are allowing whey protein and not allowing dried fruit/honey.

THE YES LIST 
Meat/Poultry/Fish/Seafood
Eggs
Vegetables (no potatoes)
Fruit
Nuts and seeds
Coffee
Olive oil, coconut oil, avocado oil
Vinegar
Sweet potatoes ok ONLY in a post-workout meal
Whey protein supplement drinks

THE NO LIST
Dairy (cheese, yogurt, milk, cream)
Wheat (flours, breads, etc.)
Processed foods
Sugars
Grains (rice, couscous, millet, quinoa, etc.)
Legumes (beans [green beans ok], lentils)
Peanuts and peanut butter
Quest Bars, Perfect Foods Bars
Dried fruit
Alcohol
Soy
Tofu
Corn
Potatoes
Soda
Fruit juices
Mayo
Sugar and artificial sweeteners
Ketchup
Sauces, dressings (BBQ sauce, etc. b/c they contain sugar - ok if they don't - check labels!)
Honey
Maple syrup
Coconut sugar, date sugar

You are supposed to take pictures for the front, back, and sides of your body, get your weight and body fat measured, and keep a journal of what you eat every day, the exercise you do, how much you sleep, and how you feel.  So you guessed it, I am going to try to use this blog to be my journal.  You can all watch me torture myself in the coming month.  Hopefully it makes me healthier and doesn't make me lose my milk supply and start getting slower at running.

Happy New Year everyone!!

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The last time I seriously ran, since starting again post-baby, was in the winter of 2010.  The year of 2010 had been "my year"; the best year of running in my life.  I had gotten my 5k time down below 21 minutes (fastest being 20:51) and had gotten several first place age group finishes in local races.  I was running 35-40 miles a week and I felt great.  I was doing lots of structured runs, intervals, progressions, tempos, long runs.  It was great.  Life was good.  I don't think I had an ounce of body fat (ok, maybe an ounce).  

At the beginning of 2011, I started dialing back my training to around 30 miles a week and started getting "healthy" in preparation for pregnancy.  At that time, I had no idea how hard it was going to be for me to actually have a baby.  When I got pregnant so easily the first time, I had visions of jogging until 40 weeks and then getting into race shape the following summer.  We all know that those plans went to shit.  No one plans for a miscarriage.

Instead of continuing running, I cut way back after my first miscarriage and stopped racing.  I thought maybe my high intensity workouts had somehow caused my miscarriages.  Well apparently cutting back more, didn't help and I had another miscarriage.  Even though my doctor said the running wasn't what was causing my miscarriages, I still continued scaling back until I was barely running at all.  Ummm yeah then I had another miscarriage, at which time I was urged by various individuals (psychologists, acupuncturists, family members, & friends) to STOP running at all.  So I listened to them, thinking that they must be right.  I gained about 10 lbs and lost all of my cardiovascular shape and any muscular definition that I had left after scaling back so much.  Friends, I was miserable.  Mentally.  Physically.

Running has been a huge part of my life.  I started running when my parents moved me out of state junior year.  I joined the cross-country team to make friends and partially because my mom forced me to do at least 1 sport.  Since I wasn't very coordinated, I decided running would be my best bet.  I took to it pretty easily, although I could have tried a whole heck of a lot harder and been a lot better (in hindsight).  I liked running so much that I did track that spring.  Senior year of high school, I was the captain of both the cross-country and track teams.  Finally, something I was decent at that I liked!

During college I didn't run as much as I should because I was either partying or hungover (freshman year) or working (sophomore-senior year).  I ran to run off stress and to try to shed the several pounds that I gained from drinking so much freshman year.

After college, I started running more for exercise and to stay in shape.  At first I ran mostly outside because I couldn't afford a gym membership.  Then once my (now) husband and I got established and could afford the gym, I ran at the gym in addition to cross-training.  

In 2006, when my Dad passed away unexpectedly, I ran to stay sane.  I was sad, angry, and  confused.  Somehow, running helped me understand everything.  I would be pissed at the world, strap on my sneakers, and figure everything out while pounding the pavement.

I ran so much after my Dad died, that I decided that I could run a marathon.  I ran one marathon and then another from 2007-2008  I was logging a ton of miles.  I started getting burned out.  It was around this time that I started getting hurt.  Shin splints turned into a stress fracture.  I got runner's knee and then patella tendinitis.  I went to physical therapy.  I was told I had flat feet and got orthotics.  Then I got piriformis syndrome.  I was a mess.  My body was tired and broken down.  I took a break before starting back up after getting married.

In mid-2008 I started actually training again.  I started attending various running programs with a well known local coach.  He was awesome.  I made some really great friends and got better at running.  I changed my shoes and stopped always wearing seriously structured shoes and wore lighter weight shoes for shorter and faster runs.  By 2010, I was in awesome shape and, as mentioned, had my best year.

2011 through mid-2013 happened.  The good, the bad, and the incredibly ugly.  The body that I was left with in April was the epitome of out-of-shape.  Running was so hard.  At first running even for a minute left me completely exhausted and feeling defeated.  My body felt foreign and loose, like my organs (and boobs) were bouncing around.  Totally gross.  I started gradually increasing the length of my intervals until I was running a mile without stopping.  Then I started gradually adding incremental amounts of distance until I was running 3 miles at about a 10 minute per mile pace.  Depressing, yes, but better than not being able to run at all.

Once I got back to about 3 miles, I did something I shouldn't have and I started running with the baby in the B.O.B.  He was under the recommended age, but had good head/neck control.  I bolstered him with rolled up towels and ran only on smooth surfaces.  Running with that jogging stroller made my challenging 3 mile runs even more challenging.

Once I got comfortable with 3 mile distances I decided to do the next logical thing, train and run for a half-marathon.  Ha ha.  I'm obviously kidding.  Who does that, right?  Jumps from 3 miles, 4 months post baby to a half?  This girl, that's who.  I slowly worked my way back up to 10-12 mile runs with 2-3 other shorter & faster runs mid-week and ran that half-marathon in 1:46 (8:05 pace).

It was then that the race bug bit me, again, and I decided to start running some shorter races and work on my speed.  Between the half-marathon and now, I have run two other races, a 5 mile and a 5k.  I have shocked myself in those races.  The 5 mile I finished in 35:38 (7:08 pace), this was not far off from my 5 mile PR of 35:37 (ha one sec, but who's counting right?).  I finished my 5k in 20:59 (6:49 pace), which is not far from my PR of 20:51.

So what am I doing that has caused me to get so fast, so quickly?  Pretty much by doing everything that you aren't supposed to do.

-Running 3-5 miles at a time,4 days a week at the most, equaling less than 20 miles a week.
-Running most runs at an 8:30-9 min pace.
-Running mostly on the treadmill at zero incline.
-Not sleeping more than 4 hours at a time, consecutively, each night.
-Doing CrossFit 2-3 days a week.
-Being lucky to get in the proper amount of calories because I am always running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

While I was running in my last 5k race, I started to feel pain around 2.5 miles.  My legs felt heavy and my chest ached from breathing the cold air so rapidly.  I thought to myself, "This is nothing".  Compared to all of the crap I went through to get a sticky pregnancy.  All the crap that I went through during pregnancy, labor and delivery.  All the crap that I went through immediately following the birth of B.  Now that was real pain.  Running fast, pushing myself up and down hills and across a finish line...pssssh.  That is nothing compared to what I have put my body through over the past 2 years.

So to anyone who is thinking that they will never get back to where they were before they had a baby...it might not necessarily be true.  In fact, you might be able to come back and be better and stronger with less training (intensity/volume).  Mental toughness is half the battle and friends, many or you have been through the ringer.  Our bodies may not look exactly the same.  They may not feel the same.  We may have scars and changes that we don't necessarily love, but we have fought through, persevered and we have won.  Now we can whoop everyone's butts out on the race course.

Anyone else find that they are in better shape, post-infertility/loss/baby?

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If you have been reading my blog for a while, you'll know that I've talked about CrossFit several times and usually not in a positive light.  Back when I first found out I was pregnant, my husband told me about this Groupon he had bought to do the Foundation level class at a local Crossfit facility.  I thought nothing of it.  He'll go to these two weeks of class and then go back to his regular routine at the gym because, well, we can't afford a $150 a month gym membership for one person.

Imagine my surprise when he told me that he was joining that "box" (that is what they call a gym in the Crossfit world).  I was deep in my hormone induced pregnancy haze when I realized that my picture of who did CrossFit, huge muscle-headed guys, was actually incorrect and over half of the members were young, cute girls.  Yeah, I wasn't too happy about that, especially because I was so out of shape and knew there was no possibility of me getting back into shape for many months.

So yeah, my husband joined the "box" and started doing competitions, and to my subconscious dismay, started placing in them.  He soon became the most in-shape version of himself that I (and probably he) have ever known and I became (almost) the most jealous version of myself that I have ever known.  He started getting very serious about NEVER missing workouts, not drinking alcohol, and he started eating a fairly strict paleo diet.  No more potatoes, rice, flour, or sugar in our house.  I am a baker.  I am a healthy baker, but a baker just the same.  Screw paleo.

Even more upsetting and annoying to me was that fact that all he wanted to talk about was CrossFit.  He listened to pod-casts about it and talked to his CrossFit friends about it.  "Oh I crushed that WOD in under 5 minutes!" or "I RXed that clean and jerk, did you?".  Then he would try to talk to me about it and I had no idea how challenging doing 100 burpees in 5 minutes was.  I didn't really care either, I was worried about birthing a healthy baby.

Once I had the baby, things just seemed to keep getting worse with regards to CrossFit.  I was tired, frumpy, out of shape, dealing with crazy post-pregnancy hormones, and stressed out over a baby that spit up after every feeding. Meanwhile, my husband was going to CrossFit 5 plus days a week, was in super-duper good shape, and was hanging out with people who eat-breathe-sleep CrossFit.  Recipe for disaster, my friends.

My husband and I ended up training for an running a half-marathon in the month of October.  It helped us connect and helped me get back into shape.  I impressed myself with my time (1:46), which made me eager to start training for more races and to bring my times down even more.  I bought a treadmill and stuck it in my basement.  That way I'd get to see my baby every day after work and then I could run once he hit the hay.  PERFECT.

I thought this would be my new workout routine until my husband suggested that I complete the entry level class at the new CrossFit gym that his friend opened.  He even said that he would foot the crazy $180 bill.  I will have to admit that I really didn't want to do it, but he did go out of his comfort zone to run a half marathon with me and I did totally kick his ass.  Lifting weights is NOT my thing though and, due to my diastasis recti (that has improved tremendously), there are still quite a few types of ab workouts that I can't do.  Plus, CrossFit just doesn't interest me in the slightest.  If I have time, I'd rather run.  Plain and simple.

I sucked it up and agreed to sign up and do the two week class to secretly prove to him that it wasn't my thing.  The first class was awkward.  I didn't know anyone (other than my husband's friend), but it seemed like everyone else there knew someone else.  Most of the girls looked like they were in better shape than me with the exception of one older lady who looked like she hadn't gotten off the couch in several years (she ended up quitting after the first night).  Of course I compared myself to everyone and got upset at myself at the end of the night because I was one of the last people to finish the baseline workout of 500 meter row, 40 squats, 30 sit-ups (I did a plank variation), 20 push-ups, and 10 pull-ups (assisted with a green rubber band).  Even the older out of shape looking lady did better than me, allegedly.  I was embarrassed to write my time on the huge white board.  

Not getting into all of the details of the classes, I will sum it up by saying that I ended up going to all six of the classes and finishing the program.  I am now "allowed" to go to regular classes, which kind of scares me.  Do I even want to?  The jury is still out.  There are some good and bad things that I noticed when doing the entry class.  I'll start with the good and then get to the not so good...

The Good

1.  The people in my class seemed normal and not "cult-like".  They wore Lulu Lemon and Nike (like me), not all Reebok with bight colors and knee socks, like most CrossFitters wear.  Maybe that is because they just haven't been doing it long enough?  A few of the girls also had young kids so we had stuff to talk about besides working out.  Mommies are mommies, first (I hope).

2.  The workouts were challenging and I feel like I could get into overall better shape by doing classes a few times a week.

3.  The coach was good.  He was motivating and understanding.  He seems like he knows his stuff.  He was willing to work with me and help me scale my workouts due to my ab exercise restrictions.

4.  I don't mind paleo anymore, 80% of the time.  We pretty much eat a paleo diet now with the exception of me eating oatmeal cereal for breakfast (breastfeeding) and the occasional non-GMO verified corn chip.  I still don't eat any soy or dairy.  I think this is good enough.

5.  The "box" is nice and new.  It is really close to my house.

6.  Now I can understand what my husband it talking about when he says he says he did an AMRAP of wall-balls for 9 minutes.  I know how much that would totally suck now.  We can have a conversation about the day's WOD and I don't glaze over completely because I may (or may not) have done the same thing.

The Not So Good

1.  You have to workout on a schedule and they would like you to go 3 days in a row and then rest one day.  Sometimes I can't go to a 5 PM class or a 7 PM class and there is a high probability that I can't go to a class every day (especially since my husband already goes 10 times a week).  I have a baby and his schedule isn't the same from day-to-day.  Sometimes I need to workout at 5:30 PM or 6:45 PM.  Can't do that with CrossFit.

2.  People cheat.  This is something that shouldn't bother me, but does.  When they give you a workout (like the baseline one above) they ask you do time yourself and then write the time down on the board.  No one is counting your reps or making sure that you have proper form and, while I didn't watch people working out because I was too busy trying not to die, I would be quite surprised if the older lady actually did beat me.  My husband tried to tell me that I should measure myself against myself...kind of hard for a competitive, type-A person like me.  People write down times that are less than they actually were or don't do all the exercises correctly or the right amount.  Annoying.

3.  Weightlifting is not my thing.  Lots of the workouts have a strength component that works on Olympic types of lifts.  I have zero interest in this and I don't want to become a female body builder.  Enough said.

4.  CrossFit is all about abs and core and my ab situation sucks.  I will probably never be able to do real sit-ups again like I could before I had B.  Even though my diastasis has closed to 2 fingers, doing sit-us, toes-to-bar, and v-ups is going to cause it to open right back up.  I used to kill sit-ups and I liked doing them.  Now I can't do them and have to scale every workout that contains them.  People look at me like I am cheating or something.  If I am going to do something I want to do it all the way.  No half-assing for me.

5.  I am realizing just how out of shape I still am, and folks, it ain't pretty.  This obviously doesn't have to do directly with CrossFit, but I feel like I need to wear a shirt that says I had a baby 7 months ago and I used to be in good shape.  I hate being the worst.  I am used to being one of the more in-shape people in a group.              

So am I going to drink the kool-aid and officially join CrossFit?  I'm not sure yet.  I just don't know that it is going to work for me time-wise or fitness goal-wise.  I am first and foremost a mommy and secondly a runner.  I don't want to cut out running workout for CrossFit ones.  I do want to get in better shape and look and feel better about myself than I do now.  I guess time will tell on this one.  More to come...    

Also here is a pic of the ab situation I speak of, regularly.  I am down below my pre-pregnancy weight, but still have this to contend with.  My arch-nemesis.

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I get asked this at least a few times a week by different people.  The comments and questions around my continued breastfeeding go something like this...

"How long are you going to continue breastfeeding?"

"You are still pumping three times a day?"

"He has 6 teeth?!  Aren't you afraid he is going to bite you?"

"He'll sleep longer if you give him formula."

"You should NEVER get into the habit of nursing a baby to bed!"

It seems rather crazy to me that the fact that I am breastfeeding my baby at 7 months isn't very common even though both the AAP recommends breastfeeding until a baby is 1 year of age or more and the WHO recommends breastfeeding until 2 years of age or beyond.

I feel there is quite a bit of breastfeeding support for mothers when they first have a child.  There are lactation consultants at the hospital, support groups during the day while you are on maternity leave, and a plethora of information on the web.  There is very little information and support out there for mothers who continue to breastfeed past 6 months.  Well, this is what I have found to be true.

For example, when I started feeding B solids a little after 6 months, I found very little information with regards to how I should go about doing that while breastfeeding.

Yeah, not a lot of info out there and what I have found is sometimes conflicting.  I think the issue is that by 6 months many moms have quit breastfeeding so there isn't the need for all the information that there is when baby is first born.  The information that I got from my doctor doesn't totally jive with what I believe in either.  She has told us to start him with cereal, which we decided not to do.  Also, she has told us to give him water and I don't really know how much he needs that, either.  I thought breast milk was good enough.  I feel like doctors aren't that that supportive of breastfeeding, which is surprising that I am not feeling that way from my doctor when she said she breastfed both of her kids until they were 2 when I originally interviewed her.

Recently, I have noticed that B's breastfeeding habits have been changing, and not for the better.  He has always been an "in and out" kind of baby.  He eats to eat and that is it.  2-3 minutes on a side MAX.  Lately it is a struggle to get him to eat for more than 2 minutes on one side before he decides to start looking around or tries to squirm out of my arms.  I have started pumping less at work.  He has even been eating less out of a bottle when I am at work.  He went from eating 4-5 ounces every 3 hours to now eating 3 ounces every 3.5-4 hours.  This all seemed to correspond to the fact that we had started giving him 2 solid meals a day; fruits in the morning and veggies at night.  He seems to have less and less of an interest in eating except for in the middle of the night or right before bed when he is tired.

Of course I googled this, wanting to know if it was normal 7 month old behavior, and the results that I came up with weren't exactly what I was wanting to hear.  Most of the articles I found dealt with infant self-weaning.  A few of the articles were centered around teething, which seemed a little easier for me to take.  I found myself getting worked up over the fact that I am still breastfeeding at 7 months, enjoying the experience and wanting to continue, and not at all prepared or supported for where I am now or for the future.  Honestly, I am doing what I think I should be doing, not knowing if it is the right thing to do or not.

So as I paw my way through the dimly lit forest that is breastfeeding past 6 months, alone.  I can only hope that I am still doing the right thing.  I really wish that there was more support guidance out there for mothers who breastfeed longer.  I could really, really, use it right now.

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I decided that the only way that I am really going to have time to regularly get in a workout is to buy a treadmill, so that is what I did.  After hearing many jokes about how I could spend much less money and buy a laundry rack, I decided to prove them all wrong and take the plunge.  I shelled out $1500 (more like $2200 once you figure in the warranty, tax, and delivery/set-up) and had my husband frame me out a small room in our dungeon of a basement that I am calling my "work out room".  Laugh if you want, but I have already ran on it 2 out of the three days that I have had it and I LOVE it for a few reasons:

1.  I can run whenever I want.  This could mean 4:30 AM when I get up or 7 PM after the baby goes to bed.  It could also mean 2 PM on a Sunday while baby and daddy are watching football.  I can run when it is raining or snowing.  I can run when it is -10 degrees or when it is 90.

2.  I can suspend my gym membership.  I can cut my monthly gym membership down from $90 to $45 a month until I decide that I want to start it up again.  I have been paying for that membership for many months and have only been able to go a handful of times.  I usually only go when it is to inclement to run outside and now I can do that in my house!

3.  I can train for races with less pressure.  After completing my first half marathon in many years a few weeks back (at an 8:05 pace!!), I have caught the racing bug again.  I am so far from where I once was, placing in my age group, but I can conceivably work my way back to where I was if I can run more days a week than I don't run.

4.  I can run with the baby in my site.  He loves his Exersaucer.  I can bring him down with me and hope that he likes watching mommy run like a mouse in a wheel.  Crossing my fingers on this one.

5.  I can continue trying to achieve my goal of looking like I did before the whole pregnancy debacle.  This includes all of the time I spend trying to get pregnant and miscarrying.  I am talking 2010 shape.

After doing a TON of research and finding the Treadmill Doctor, I decided on the SoleF80.  It isn't as technologically advanced as some of the other ones that I was looking at like the NordicTrack models, but it is a solid machine that can hold up to a beating.  I don't really need all of the fancy stuff.  I have my iPad to blast tunes and I plan on getting a small flat screen TV.  The F80 does have a fan and a heart rate monitor.  So far, I really like it.

In other news...

B slept 7-8 hours for a few nights in a row and then last night was down to 4 hours again.  Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.  Good thing I didn't throw out my under eye concealer.

I baked an awesome batch of paleo pumpkin doughnuts last night.  Check out the recipe, here.  They are AMAZING, no gluten or sugar necessary!

My husband and I finally had sex.  TMI maybe, but this has been an issue causing me huge anxiety with regards to pain in the past few months.  Only took 6 months!  I think I have gotten past the pain though.  Take that scar tissue!!

I keep forgetting to take my birth control.  Let's hope that the breastfeeding is working as my backup (gulp), because we all know how that works.  You had so much trouble the first time and then baby #2 comes as a surprise...

Speaking of breastfeeding, my co-worker is back from maternity leave.  She can't seem to figure out that you need to pump on a schedule and the lactation dungeon has no Outlook calendar for scheduling.  Lucky me had to pump in the bathroom last week for the first time ever because she was in the room for an hour and I was in pain.  Terribly annoying and gross.  I hope I never have to do that again.


And that's a wrap.  Hope you all have a fabulous week!

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...my little one throws me a curve ball.  Two out of the last 3 nights he has slept for 7 hours straight, no crying it out necessary.  Now to some of you this may not seem like a big deal, but to my husband and I, this is the definition of bliss.  Seven whole hours.  I didn't need quite as much concealer today.  What did I do differently?  Basically, what everyone tells me not to do...  

Last week, out of pure and utter desperation, I bought "Solve Your Child's Sleep Problems", by Dr. Richard Ferber.  A friend of mine, who had similar sleep issues with her children, recommended the book to me and told me that it took 3 nights to get her kids to sleep through the night.  B had been sleeping 2-3 hour stretches at night and I was paying the price during the day.  I was tired, groggy, agitated, foggy, and starting to get depressed.  Every time I would hear a friend tell me how their baby slept 10 hours a night (straight) I would quite literally, start to cry.  What is wrong with my baby?  Why won't he sleep?  How can he function all day without sleep?  Will it be like this forever?  What am I doing wrong???

Back to the book, I started reading it on the train and before bed.  I gathered some interesting information that I had never thought of before.  All babies have multiple waking during the night.  The problem comes in when the baby cannot self-soothe back to sleep.  Thus, B's issue.  He wakes up and gets so upset that he can't fall back to sleep.  The book recommends the let the baby fuss 5 minutes, go and check on them (without any skin contact) and then leave.  Wait 7 minutes and then do the same.  You just keep making the check-ins farther and farther between until your baby falls asleep on his/her own.  Also, you are not supposed to give them a pacifier (or at least not replace it if it falls out) and you are not supposed to nurse them before bed or during the night.  It isn't straight CIO, but a modified form of it.  How hard could that be, right?  We decided to give it a try.  Desperation speaks...loudly.

Oh man.  I know that being sleep deprived sucks, but listening to your baby cry and seeing the baby tears is awful.  I think I'd almost rather gouge my eyeballs out than listen to that awful cry.  They say that CIO is worse for the parents than it is for the child, but I don't know, B was really upset.  The first night that we tried it totally sucked and most likely backfired because he slept worse than his normal 2-3 hours at a time.  Seeing me check in on him made him even more upset.  He had started to develop a cold and was teething so I decided that night wasn't the night to start "Ferberizing".  By the time I picked him up snot and tears were streaming down his face.  Bad mommy.  :-(

Well the next night his cold got worse and his sleep got worse, too.  He cried and wouldn't let up.  Upon giving in and picking him up, I noticed that his top left tooth had cut through his red little gums.  Poor baby.  I felt like a jerk for making him cry for so long.  I am sure he was crying because he was in pain, not because he was being a difficult baby.  Bad mommy.  :-(

I decided to table the "Ferberizing" for the time being and try a few different things that I am more comfortable with for the time being.  First of all, I started completing his whole night time routine in his room, rather than my room.  After his bath, I now read to him in his room, nurse him in his room, and then rock him to sleep to the soothing noise of the  sound machine (I can just imagine the eye rolls).  If he gets up at night, I let him fuss for a few minutes (twice he has fallen back to sleep), then I go get him.  I offer him snuggles first, if that doesn't work then a pacifier, and if that doesn't work then a boob. I realized that I actually like this routine because I work all day and this is the most quality time that I get with him.  I want to soak it up.  He won't be a baby forever.  He won't let me snuggle him forever.  He won't be nursing forever.  You get where I am going with this?

The past few nights our routine has gone as described above and I can tell you that my stress level has been much lower.  Oh and two out of the three nights the little man has slept 7 hours straight.  Last night he didn't even sleep in our bed at all.  He has cut nursing at night down to one time or less.  Maybe this is a fluke that will last just a few days or maybe he still needs a little more of his mommy at night.  I don't think that is the worst thing in the world.  ;-)

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I haven't really thought about my horrific birthing experience in quite some time, but this month's PAIL Bloggers theme brought to light that I have a ton of unresolved issues around this subject.  In this post, I am going to focus mostly on the issues and complications that I had during B's birth and how they continue to haunt me.  Here goes...

I have written in great detail about my birth experience, which you can read about below if you are interested.  I'll also give some of the highlights if you'd rather not go back 6 months:

Suffice it to say that I basically had (almost) the worst birthing experience that I could have imagined and the birth plan, that I had so carefully drafted, may as well have been shredded on the spot.  I was scheduled to be induced at 40 weeks, 4 days due to a raging case of PUPPPs and borderline gestational diabetes.  I was forced given Cytotec to ripen my cervix, which had been stuck at 2cm for weeks.  I was in a Pitocin induced labor for almost 40 hours.  I had my water broken by the doctor with a coat hanger because it wouldn't break on its own.  I was given an epidural about 28 hours into labor, but that stopped working by the time that I had to push.  I finally got to 10 cm and then pushed for almost 3 hours.  The baby got stuck in my pelvis.  I had to have an unplanned, emergency(ish) c-section.  During my c-section the doctors could not get my uterus to contract so I lost a ton of blood during the surgery and kept passing out due to low blood pressure (my husband later told me it looked like a murder scene with blood squirting and spilling onto the floor).  I really thought I was going to die.  The doctors kept telling me to look to my baby and focus on my baby, but I was more concerned with my own well-being.  I had to have a blood transfusion (actually, 2 of them) because my hematocrit levels were so low.  I blew up like a water balloon from all of the drugs.  My PUPPPs got so bad after I delivered that they sent doctors over from other hospitals to try to help me, but nothing did end up helping me.  I had almost no interest in my child in the hours that followed his birth because I was so drugged up and so exhausted.  Breastfeeding also went terribly and he ended up losing 10% of his birth-weight and I had to supplement with formula, which was something I said that I would NEVER do.

I am now 6 months out from that horrifically wonderful day.  It is horrific because of what I had to go through, but wonderful because I have him to show for it.  The other day I was looking back at pictures of B from when he was just a few days old.  He has grown so much from then until now (born 9lb, 2 oz and 21.5in and at 6 months he is 19.1lbs, 28in!) and looking back at his pictures made me so sad.  I barely even remember the first few days that I spent with him.  I was so miserable the first few weeks that I feel like I didn't get to enjoy him.  I don't even remember what his baby smell was like.  I was so worried about whether we was getting enough calories from my milk and having enough wet/poopy diapers, that I didn't get to savor the time that we had together.  I was so exhausted and drained from the labor, surgery, and recovering from my rash that I couldn't focus my attention on my baby.  I am still angry about that.  I haven't been able to let it go.

When I hear mommies talking about how their perfect vaginal birth went exactly according to plan, I feel like a failure.  My body (once again) failed me in this instance.  I wanted to have an uncomplicated birth.  I didn't want major surgery.  Why did he get so big when I was so strict with my diet?  Why didn't they induce me sooner so that he may have had a chance to fit through my (apparently) narrow pelvis?  Why didn't my body do what it was supposed to, when it was supposed to?  If I had lived in more primitive times, B and I would have most certainly both died.  I wanted to decide how many kids I would want and when I would want them and not have to let my doctor make that decision.  Now, I am pretty much going to be forced into another c-section, if I can get pregnant again, but only after I have waited the recommended 18 months.

I have talked to a few people about my unresolved issues surrounding the birth of B.  Even the mommies that have had unplanned/emergency c-sections don't seem harbor the kind of anger and sadness that I have surrounding my childbirth experience.  I don't get the sense that they feel cheated, like me.  Usually I get the, "well look at the result!", and well, they would be right, I guess.  I have yet to come across anyone else who really feels the way that I do.  Maybe no one else feels like I do.  I should just be happy that I have a beautiful and healthy son.  I know that I need to move on, but I can't.  I'm still so sad.  I cry about it when no one is around.  I still mourn it like a loss.  I feel like, once again, I was denied another womanly right and had to have medical intervention.

My childbirth baggage has definitely clouded the outlook for subsequent births.  I am not sure that I could ever go through that kind of experience again.  My husband and I were talking about this other day... The process of getting pregnant, staying pregnant, being pregnant, and childbirth did not go well for me and at this point, neither of us can see it happening again.  I want to have a sibling for B, but I am terribly afraid of everything that surrounds that idea.  I am wondering if time will heal the wounds that I have sustained or if they will continue to taint my future.    

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