Fester is fit! (His mama? Not so much...)

Whew. Rough night. At about 9:15pm, Fester decided to do an intense FORTY minute total body aerobic workout. Thankfully, Roy was able to witness most of the spectacle. Though you cannot yet see his little limbs protruding through my tummy, I was delighted to discover that if you push down on little Fester, he will push back! Kinda neat! (Probably not very nice though).

Ah well, at least I know Fester Chainsaw has an impressive level of fitness and will not emerge weighing 17 pounds. I only wish I had his energy level- I'm only at 26.5 weeks and I've already gained 23-24 lbs. So sometimes I get a little depressed thinking about what I'll have to do to lose it all.

I know I shouldn't use all the pregnant celebrities I see in Us magazine as role models or inspiration...particularly since I tend to eat more than a tomato wedge for dinner and generally avoid using crack cocaine and laxatives to lose weight. Nonetheless, it is extremely impressive how quickly they lose the weight! I couldn't believe it when I read that just 6-8 weeks after Heidi Klum gave birth, she was baring her flat, bare belly in a Victoria's Secret fashion show!!!!

What the...?!?! You want to know what my own personal goal is SIX weeks after giving birth? To not be laying in bed, crying, leaking, covered in Better Cheddar crumbs, wearing size-60 waist high granny panties, screaming at Roy to bring me more ice cream laced with Prozac. How's that? At least it's realistic.

No really, in all seriousness, I bet I could lose the weight if I didn't do things like eat a barbecued chicken patty Boca burger with lettuce/tomato/avocado, a garden salad with oriental dressing, oven roasted zucchini, a small fruit smoothie and two homemade cookies like I did for lunch today. (Yes, this is exactly why not all vegetarians are skinny). :-(

A Night with Fester

A few of my pregnancy books ramble on and on about the importance of enjoying as much uninterrupted sleep as possible before the baby comes. The thing is, I'm pretty sure that not one of these authors has actually spent a night with Fester, or they would already know that my last good night of sleep was the night before Roy impregnated me (the bastard).

Take Friday night, for example, which Roy has wisely and diplomatically choosen to refer to as "not our best night." Here's a rundown:

8:30pm - We go to bed.
10:49pm - I wake up. Pee trip #1. I stumble on the heater returning to bed and wake Roy.
1:32am - My stomach is rock hard. Painfully sore. I toss and turn loudly and glare angrily at Roy as he snoozes through most of it. He wakes up after feeling me flop around for 10 minutes as I struggle to find a comfortable position for my bulging tummy.
2:57am- Time for pee trip #2.
2:59am- I return to bed, but am now extremely uncomfortable from my ever present constipation. I contemplate another return to the bathroom (side note: in 33 years of life, I have never, and I repeat- NEVER had to wake up in the middle of the night for this reason. I am now convinced that the expression "sh#*ting a brick" was in fact, coined by a pregnant woman.) I toss and turn for another 10 minutes before finally giving in and heading back to the bathroom.
3:14am- I return from the bathroom (moderate success for those who are interested) to see a peaceful Roy sleeping so soundly and breathing all over me that I am tempted to jam my two fingers into his nostrils to wake him up. My mind runs constantly over what I need to do the next morning.
3:40am- Finally fall back asleep.
4:45am- Wake up chuckling because Fester has begun a complete Tae Bo workout. I decide to wake up Roy so that he can feel the kicks since he's only felt them once before and loved it. They come with such regularity and ferocity that they last for no less than 15 minutes.
5:40am- Pee trip #3 (yields a full tablespoon of pee).
7:10am- I wake up because Fester has now decided to become David Beckham for the next 5-7 minutes. Still, I don't mind too much and Roy gets to feel my tummy again. We laugh together over how feisty he is before I eventually get up to make breakfast, but Roy announces he's going back to sleep because as puts it, he's had 'a rough night' (I manage to avoid beating him).

PS - A special thank you to the Anonymous reader for calling me out with the following comment on my last post:

You look cute..And by the way, it that a gallon of ice cream in the background?? LOL

Ahem. (cough! cough!) Why yes...YES it is, laser vision boy!!! Thank God Roy managed to leave out the bottle of Reese's peanut butter chocolate syrup and Lite Cool Whip that also right next to it!

You asked for it!!!

Though I was initally adamant about not taking any pregnancy pictures, I realized that I may someday need some type of leverage with Fester ("Go get mommy a cold beer!!! Now!!! Or I'll make you look at pictures of how fat you made me!!!").

This picture ought to do the trick.

For the record...14 weeks to go!

PS - If you're tempted to tell me I don't look THAT bad, keep in mind that I made Roy take the picture from further and further away until it made me look smaller! Thank god for trick photography!

What makes me happy

So on Saturday, despite having a ton of chores, I made the time to reflect about the need for taking time to clear my mind...finding peace...avoiding the bag of chips. And how did that work out for me? Well...

I finished all my chores!!!
I went on a 4-mile walk!
And I didn't eat the chips!!!*

*Unfortunately...this was only because we didn't have chips in the house. Instead, I ate a bag of arare (rice crackers). Not to mention about twice as much as I needed at each meal. Oh, and a few extra snacks. So basically, it was a giant foodfest celebration. Party of one.

Pretty suck a**, huh? I have very little empathy for myself (since I do it...oh EVERYDAY). So whenever other people try to comfort me by poo-poohing my extra weight gain with comments like, "But you're pregnant! You're supposed to gain weight!" "But you're eating for two!" or "Oh, girlfriend, just enjoy it! Embrace it! You're pregnant!" I tend to dismiss them.

Because honestly...we all know this is crap. Sure, sure, pregnant women are entitled to some slack, but it's neither healthy nor a natural part of pregnancy to gain excess weight. So while I definitely appreciate the attempts to assuage my fears, the comments tend to frustrate me (and rarely if ever comfort me). I do not want to make excuses for my behavior.

On the other hand, I'm not entirely bitter/angry at myself either. I think it's because I have made some progress recently in getting my health back (and I know it's generally counter-productive to flog and berate yourself all day):

1. I've worked out the last 21 days in a row.

2. I've maintained a 90-95% vegetarian and junk-food free diet for the last 11 days in a row. I still overeat, but at least I'm overeating healthier food vs. trans-fat loaded, fat-filled, additive-packed crap (baby steps people...baby steps).

As a side bonus of the new dietary intake, after over 5 straight months of Fester Chainsaw sitting firmly atop on my colon (thereby preventing any and all painless/mindless #2s)- I have become slightly more regular. My biggest gripe thus far with pregnancy (and men, please cover your eyes or stop reading...you've been forewarned) is that no one warned me that even though I would stop menstruating from my er...'vaginal' region, that I would soon begin doing so from my a** instead. So non pregnant women, take note- keep those extra long panty liners handy.

(Men, goddamnit...I TOLD YOU to stop reading).

A break from the world of Fester

I've always been pretty good about taking time for myself. In college whenever I needed a break from classes, homework, golf practice or roommate drama- this usually meant popping a large bag of microwave popcorn (extra butter) and then laying down to eat it with my latest issue of Cosmo or Us magazine. This inevitably resulted in me waking up the next morning with popcorn kernels stuck to my cheeks (side note- they taste soggy the next day), but at least I felt relaxed afterwards. The thing is, I'm pretty sure that's ALL it does. I doubt that I'll ever attain mindfulness or enlightenment while perusing the 'Who Wore it Best' column.

Last year around this time we were back home in Hawaii. It was on that trip that I began reading Eat, Pray, Love and had ‘the epiphany’ (which was mainly that I had not been living authentically). Aside from all of those painful mistakes we all make throughout out lives, I don't think I was ever unhappy with the life I had created (I loved my family, friends, spouse, job, travels, health, etc.), but underlying it all was a very frenetic/anxiety-ridden state of mind, which was not only preventing me from truly being able to enjoy my life, but it was also mindf*#king me in other ways as well (which I won't get into to).

So after reading about Elizabeth Gilbert's (the author) transformation, I was finally cognizant that there was a better, more meaningful/joyful life out there for me. Part of me was so inspired to find it that I wanted to do something dramatic in that quest- sell off my possessions! Give the money away! Help build a school in Uganda!

But in my heart of hearts, I knew it wasn't practical- Roy had just started a new job. I'm allergic to most bug bites. I panic anytime I perceive my financial security to be at risk. So I knew that if I did that, I'd more than likely just end up silently skulking back home, covered in hives, twenty pounds heavier (since I'd take advantage of the native's hospitality and eat all of their rice gruel and crickets)... Incidentally, who the hell goes to Africa and comes back chubbier?! (The same girl who went to Japan for three years and gained 25 pounds, that's who!)

But I knew I wanted to do something... Something middle-of-the-road that would stick. Kind of like our decision to only eat meat a few times a month...as opposed to trying to never eat it at all. It took a few more months, but eventually, I was coaxed into trying to...medidate. Prior to attempting it, I considered meditation to be as alluring as sitting through a 2-hour musical. Walking through the Louvre for 4 hours. Watching a complete documentary on the mutations of nematodes. (Great for others, not so great for me.)

So I knew I wouldn't even attempt those long, sweltering, trance-like meditative states interrupted only by periodic beatings with a stick (you know, for greater focus). Just (and I cannot take credit for this) short, simple sessions at the end of each day. In my case, this meant laying down on my living room floor with an instrumental cd Joseph got me from a trip to South America. My only goal was to clear my mind for 10-15 min. Not to float above the room, chat with God, or see bursting, colorful lights- just to silence my busy mind and give it a break.

This was not easy. It took me 3-4 sessions before I even found a breathing pattern/position I was comfortable with. I also added another practice/ritual to my meditation- which was to engage in about 10 minutes of self talk with myself. It's amazing the difference in clarity I reach talking to myself out loud versus even writing or talking to a friend.

In any case, the more I did both rituals, the more likely I was to feel peaceful and the less likely I was to dig through the cupboards the next day. This was never a guarantee of course (I always felt betrayed when it failed to stop me from chowing down after a particularly beneficial 'session' the night before)...but I truly believe in some way, it helped me break through.

So what did I learn/am I still learning?

-For well over ten years I belived that my life would truly be near perfect if I could only just stop eating. But now I know that I am not unhappy because I overeat, I overeat because I am unhappy.

-The more in control I feel physically, the more in control and positive I feel emotionally. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. If I receive bad news/a set back, it's the difference between feeling fussy, pathetic and overwhelmed versus strong, determined and upbeat.

-It really does begin with a single step. Three months ago I felt panicked by how much I was eating and not working out. I had completely stopped doing all those things that used to make me feel strong- 2 hour workouts, 15 mile runs, etc. And one night, after promising myself for the hundredth time that I was going to start 'tomorrow,' I knew I had to something and that if I didn't do it right at that moment, I probably never would. So I lugged myself off the sofa and did 20-30 min. of light hand weights. Part of me was protesting, "This is sooo hard and it's such a waste of your time! You're not even burning 100 calories and you ate ten times that just in snacks! What's the point?!" But the other part of me felt so relieved that I still had some fight left in me that it was enough to motivate me to work out again the next day, and the day after that... Even though I have not yet managed to stem the tide of overeating or stabilize my weight, I'm not going to give up on the workouts. Because then I would be entirely giving up on me and all hope would be lost. As difficult/humbling as it is to walk around with all this extra weight again, at least today there is a tiny glimmer whereas two weeks ago there was none.

-Mindfulness is temporary. You have to make a conscious effort to remain in that state. I think I meditated regularly for about 2-3 months. Once I felt better, I stopped. And then I got pregnant and gained 15-20 lbs. in 2-3 months. I hold myself responsible. Hence this post- it's yet another effort to become more mindful about how I feel.

So my goals for this weekend?

The usual- do laundry, go to the bank/grocery store, try one new vegetarian recipe, pack boxes of stuff from Fester's room to ship home/donate to Goodwill, etc. But I'm also going to add this one- medidate. Talk out loud to myself. Find out what's bugging me before I end up with that empty bag of chips in my lap.

Forget Baby Einstein...Fester's doing Womb Tae Bo!

I am aware that all babies kick in the womb. However, I am starting to think that Fester Chainsaw kicks a bit more than others. Because not only do I feel him kicking/punching all day, but our nurse practitioner, MD and ultrasound technician have all chuckled and commented about the frequency of Fester's movement as well. Not that I mind. All of Fester's violent little kicks and punches just make me beam with pride, because now I KNOW:

A) He's mine...feisty!
B) He's Roy's...prone to fusiness!
C) He's going to take after his grandpa (my father)...he only speaks with his fists!

Fester may be lashing out even more this week because without warning (his mother is prone to flights of fancy), he's become a member of the herbivore species. Not permanently (as his mother is also prone to flakiness), but for as long as it takes until his mother pitches a fit over how much more inconvenient it is (more costly and time-consuming).

So far so good though! 15 or 16 days and counting of working out each day, and 7 days of eating healthier food options (though still in massive pro wrestler quantities).

It could happen

Just got back from a weekend up the coast with some friends who were kind enough to send us home with some of their 8-month old's outgrown things (a swing, a bouncer, a Boppy pillow, etc.). As a result, even though little Fester is still only about one pound, he already has a near-full bedroom! It was also nice to sit in their new hot tub (don't worry, they kept the temperature at 98 degrees so I wouldn't hard boil little Fester) that wasn't filled with all the dead skin and pubes from all our friendly neighbors in the HOA . I think the best part of our trip though, is that because our friends are vegan/organic, we always come back motivated to eat healthier...which is why we stopped at the store on the way home and loaded up on four bags of fresh fruit, veggies, tofu, yogurt, garden burgers, etc. I was so pleased with myself as I proudly loaded everything onto the coveyer belt that I pretty much expected the bored cashier to perk up and excitedly congratulate me on my fine selections (maybe even do a quick shout out over the intercom), but no, the evil self absorbed witch did not.

In any case, I'm continuing to exerise a little each day and am finally starting to feel like I have the strength and self confidence to start eating better as well. Go Team Jo. Now if only I could find a plastic surgeon willing to administer lipo to a pregnant woman. I don't see the problem. Just suck from my thighs, butt and bat wings. I don't think Fester is any danger of being sucked up.

Otherwise- it's hard to believe that in four short months, I will be at home with Fester all day while Roy is at work. I have visions (that admittedly, are about as likely to happen as my plan to 'not gain too much weight') which is that each day- Roy will pull up into the driveway, and before he can even open the door, it will swing open in front of him- the aroma of turkey pot pie wafting through. I will be standing there with a pink apron tied tightly around my waist, glowing, each hair in place (it will be a first) and smiling, with Roy's favorite drink in one graceful outstretched arm, his pipe (noooooo no no....not THAT kind, we're a Christian household) and the newspaper in the other. Fester will be sitting quietly nearby in his bouncer (since he has already been coached by mommy that he mustn't fuss and upset daddy), his thick, dark, shiny hair neatly combed over from left to right.

Yes...I think that's how it will be. Because you know- our life won't change AT ALL once we have a baby. I'll get right back into shape. Will never let Fester cry. Will continue to keep the house immaculate. Have weekly romatic dates with Roy. And of course, we'll still travel 2-3 times a year!

Coming back...

So after 2-3 months of sitting on the sofa with a box of Cheezits and the remote, I have finally willed myself back into the gym. I have actually exercised for a full week now. But before you feel any surge of optimism for me...let's define exercise, shall we?

Whereas I previously lifted weights 2-3 times/week and ran 25+ miles/week, my average workout has consisted of lifting for 2-3 times/week (but for half the time) and running about (brace yourselves....) one mile. One whole mile. Total. For the entire week. Stellar.

Unfortunately, my eating has continued to be atrocious. So it's probably safe to say that I won't be featured on the cover of FitPregnancy anytime soon. Still about 6 pounds above what the upper end of what the average pregnancy should be. And lordy do I see it. All in the arse, thighs and chubby cheeks of course. Ahh well. The main thing is, however meager my workouts have been, they have at least temporarily abated the near constant boo-hooing to Roy each night about how pathetic/fat/lazy I am. In fact, though I wouldn't quite call it a 'surge', it's given me the first little boost/semblance of self control/confidence I've had in months.

The other day on the treadmill I actually felt a tiny glimmer of that old cockiness I once felt only when I was running- shoulders pulled back, arms gliding rhythmically and in sync...and I swear, I wanted everybody to drop what they were doing just so they could stand there, look at me, and applaud (even though I probably looked quite frigtening- hair sticking to my face, sweating profusely, lumbering and flailing about, the occasional f-bomb slipping out...). ;-)

Pregnancy blather...

This will not definitely not surprise other parents, but it sure scared the beejesus outta me- apparently, all babies develop something called lanugo, which is roughly defined as "a very fine, downy body hair on the new baby’s back, shoulders, ears and face. It protects their skin while in the uterus, but disappears a few days after birth."

AFTER the birth?!!! I know most infants automatically look wrinkly and goblin-like for a few days, but I wasn't aware that they could also emerge looking like a baby gorilla. Please keep your fingers crossed that amongst other things (like very narrow shoulders and a small head), little blueberry/Fester Chainsaw will be as shiny and hairless as his daddy's head when he enters into this world!

Speaking of the blueberry/Fester Chainsaw...he is now just shy of 11 inches long, or about the size of a spaghetti squash. Which means I'm hoping a spaghetti squash typically weighs 20 pounds. Because that's what I've gained! And to make matters worse, I'm still not exercising either. At this point, I'm waaaay ahead of what I should weigh. I'm on par to gain about 35+ pounds, which is higher than the recommended 25-30lbs. Everytime I have a doctor's appointment I keep waiting for the nurse to scold me or to at least ask me to put down the Cheetos bag while I weigh in.

And finally- a rant about pregnancy attire.

While yes, pregnancy attire has indeed come a long, long way from the stretchy, knit kangaroo pouch pants and the K-Mart t-shirts with the big, obnoxious arrow pointing downward that says 'Baby on Board'- this still does not mean that there is a large selection. In fact, it becomes even smaller if you're a shorty with broad man-shoulders and have an aversion to those giant Cinderella-like bows you're supposed tie in the back on 95% of maternity blouses.

As a result, I look even goofier than usual. I either have to:

• Have all my pants tailored ("NO, Mr. Cheng...that is not a mistake! I really do have a waist of 42 and a length of 22!");
• Roll up all my sleeves, or again- pay to have them tailored (apparently I resemble a t-rex since my sleeves are always about 4 inches longer than my runty arms);
• Buy stupid-looking stuff just 'cause it happens to fit (this weekend I resorted to buying two shirts in two different colors that have these big poofy arms that make me look like I'm in a Shakespearan play).

Lesson of the Day: Cheating your way through years of 4-H & Home Ec might initially seem like a good idea...but later, it can make you cry.