To All Mothers.

I've been thinking lately about parenting "methods" and advice.  The newborn stage does that for me. I mean, these little two foot humans can be intimidating, even to the most confident parent.  Even with it being my third baby and Ivy having a generally mild temperament, there are still times I look at her and wonder, "what is it you want?"  In the night at 6am after being up for three hours, I ask that through tears.

Even worse than wondering what it is your child wants, is a deeper confusion that lies to you saying, "you've messed your child up.  You're doing something wrong."  Or, "if only you'd done this or that, then you and your child would be better off."  

Most nights Ivy sleeps 4-5 hours, is up for nursing, burping, diaper change and snuggles, then back to bed for another few hours.  So our nights have been fabulous!  But it only took one rough night for me to start to doubt my methods.  Thinking through the day and evening, trying to figure out what I might have done that caused this rough night.  

I think that's part of the problem.  The assumption that BECAUSE my child is having a hard time, I must have done something WRONG. 

I think of other moms I know and so many are bathed in feelings of self doubt, wondering if they are failing their children.  These are horrible feelings to carry and I don't believe these feelings come from God.  In my heart I feel and know that God honours mothers.  He so appreciates every sacrifice and effort that mothers make to bring children into the world and to raise those children.  And there are oh so many sacrifices!  He doesn't look down on me as I rock my precious daughter at 3am and think, "oh Kim, if only you had followed Baby Wise methods more precisely, you wouldn't be in this mess."  Rather I believe He looks at me with love and compassion.  As a new mother, still healing, giving so much of herself to care for her daughter, His daughter too.  I believe He looks at me with love and tenderness and gratitude for my willingness to care for one of His children and to be her mother.  He knows I am doing what I can.  And most importantly, He knows I love her and that is what matters most to Him.  I imagine He cares very little about whether I choose to follow this method or that.  Those methods are more for my sanity and have nothing of eternal significance in them.

But it's so easy to forget that.

It's far too easy to be judgemental and critical of ourselves and of each other.  Like Martha of the Bible who criticized her sister Mary, we often fall prey to thinking there's a right or wrong way to do things.  In very few cases, is there a right or wrong way that applies to each and every family, each and every mother, each and every child.  No, in most cases, there are just options and we all get to choose.  We get to try.  We get to learn and we get to try again.  The last thing we need is to be hard on ourselves or hard on each other.

So when you look at the mother with a child who is acting out, rather than thinking, "oh if only she would only do this or that", how about instead you extend her the same love and compassion that you yourself need in your own mothering.

To the mother with the crying baby or toddler in the night and to the mother with the older child who is having trouble at school or with his friends and to all mothers everywhere who feel at one point or another that you are or have somehow failed your child, I want to remind you of a loving Heavenly Father who is just grateful that you are trying.  Turn to Him in prayer with your doubts, with your questions and for the divine help you need because He certainly knows you need His help.  He knows you are not a perfect mother and that's ok.  He loves you and honours the sacred title you bear.  Be kind and gentle with yourself, always.

It's Quite A Stage.

As you probably know, we have a 6.5 year gap between Kyla and Ivy.  Yeah, so it's been awhile since we've done the whole newborn thing.  It's actually been a refreshing break.  Not that we exactly planned to have a big gap in our family but the way it's turned out has been a blessing.  Might as well make the best of what life offers you, right!

We feel like we've waited a long time for Ivy to come to us.  We had been praying for her to come, praying that we'd be prepared and praying that it would be a sweet and joyful experience.  We feel like these prayers have been answered.  So many blessings have been given to us by God, throughout my pregnancy, in Ivy's birth and in caring for her.  We chose to honor God by giving Ivy the middle name Grace.  To honor Him for all He has given us.

Even with all our gratitude, all these blessings, this stage is still wonderfully challenging.  

But we try to keep our sense of humor about it and that makes a big difference.

In the middle of the night when Ivy cries out Adam says, "master is calling."  Sometimes he adds, "master goat is calling" because her little newborn noises resemble a little goat.

Adam is such a baby whisperer and he always amazes me with this sixth sense he has with our babies.  Like last night, he was changing Ivy's diaper and she kept tucking her knees up.  So he pushed gently on her lower abdomen and she pushed back and out came fart after fart, squirt after squirt.  Pretty funny stuff at 3 AM, let me tell you.

We also have a bit more maturity this time around.  I am relaxed, even when she's not latching on well.  Or when we go to bed at night, I don't get anxious about how the night is going to go.  I just say in my head, "it will be what it will be."  Knowing that I'll get through it and another morning will come.  Funny how with a newborn, the sun rise almost feels like a finish line.

Riley still loves to watch me nurse Ivy.  The other day he was standing next to me, watching her, when he said out loud, "there is nothing in the world as cute as a baby girl, is there mom?"

I am healing up, emotionally and physically.  Feeling good.  Feeling myself.  I am so grateful to family and friends who have been there to support our family as we adjust to being a family of five.  THANK YOU!!!

The Recovery Is Kind Of A Big Deal.

Someone I love just told me that she is pregnant.  I am so happy for her.  As we talked she asked questions like, "what's been the hardest part about having a baby?"  I told her, "the emotional recovery" and described how that 'time of the month' you just feel kinda 'off'.  Take that and times it by 50.  Then I talked about some of the joys because I felt the need to balance out that comment with some of the good stuff....because there's sure a lot of good stuff too.  I think it's hard to know how much to talk about the hard parts.  I mean really, I don't want to freak anyone out, make them feel afraid of having kids.

What I really thought about answering to her question was, "well, it's actually going to rock your freaking world."  But I didn't know if that would be terribly helpful.

A couple years ago a friend asked me,  "which one is harder, having a baby or doing an ironman?"  I thought about that question here and there while I was pregnant, still not sure what the answer to that was.  Now I have my answer, "the ironman was harder but the recovery is harder from having a baby."  

Keep in mind, that I am comparing a 16 hour ironman where I got extremely sick on the marathon and finished much slower than hoped to an uncomplicated labour that progressed beautifully and was full of support and joy, resulting in a healthy baby and momma.  Certainly every ironman is not harder than every labour and delivery.  This is just my experience.

My little Ivy Grace was born at 11:25 in my bath tub.  A planned home birth.  It was better than I ever imagined a home birth would be.  I had been resistant to the idea of a home birth for the first half of my pregnancy but my views shifted when we spent a day in the hospital around Christmas time for Kyla to have ear surgery.  I realized that I didn't really like hospitals after all.  Certainly they serve an important purpose but I was confident that my birth would go well and felt that a hospital wasn't necessary for me and my baby.
The birth did go incredibly well.  So has the recovery but it's a major ordeal to recover from having a baby.  As I've shared bits and pieces of my recovery with other women, some of them have been surprised and maybe even comforted to know that they aren't the only one who finds this stage hard.  So that got me thinking that I wanted to write a post about the recovery...

There I lay at 3 am on Feb 28th, in a maxi pad that might as well be called a diaper, pondering on the incredible events of the past 16 hours.  It was hard to believe that now I had a baby in my house.  My baby.  That I had finally delivered her. That I was no longer pregnant.  An incredible cocktail of relief, joy, awe and love mixed in with some nervousness about the next stage of life to come.

I remembered reading that newborns usually get a really long stretch of sleep after the delivery.  That it was important for mom to sleep during this time, to also recover.  But I felt like I had just come off of one of the most incredible experiences of my life. An endorphin high.  My uterus was cramping, my back was aching, my bottom was tender, my hormones were undergoing a major shift and I had just met my little baby girl, my daughter.  How on earth was I supposed to just relax and go to sleep?  I knew I was going to need time to heal, recover and adjust to this new stage of life.

It's been quite a ride so far.  Having a baby and caring for a baby is an extremely spiritual experience for me.  Heaven feels closer, God feels closer, angels seem to be watching over me and my little girl.  It's a time filled with simple sweetness.  I love those moments of feeding and snuggling my little baby.  I love how life seems to just slow down.  There are funny moments too, like at dinner when Riley points to me and says, "mom, your breasts are leaking."

There are also hard moments.  Like last night at 2:15 when Ivy woke up crying.  I had been up until midnight, crying and talking to Adam. At times, I cry for no reason, but this time I cried because it was only a few days until Adam went back to work and I felt nervous about 'doing it all alone.'  I also felt this deep ache to be taken care of.  To be held by someone, looked after.  Strange the things we crave emotionally after having babies, isn't it?  The care of my midwives had been so amazing.  I ached for more of that care, as I gave so much in caring for my baby.  I pictured myself laying on the couch, being held by my midwife and that image brought me to tears.  Then for the first time since Ivy had been born, she threw us a curve ball and every time we set her down, she woke up crying 15 min later.  We racked our brains, "was it the lasagna I ate bothering her tummy, is she growing, is it gas....".  Finally at 5:30 she went to sleep for reals.  Had to reach deeper into my reserves of patience and optimism to get through that night.

This raw emotion has washed over me many times since delivery.  Sometimes coming without warning and sometimes for no apparent reason, other than a strong feeling that I just need to cry and let it all out.  Apparently day 3 is a common day for strong emotions.  It sure was for me.  I sat on my couch, feeding Ivy, while my family was at church and the tears flowed.  This time, it had a lot to do with feeling so loved.  It spoke to the deep ache I felt.  The ache to be cared for.  I kept thinking about how one of the midwives was coming soon to visit and that I should really pull myself together so I wasn't a blubbering mess when she arrived.  But then I thought of her womanly care.  Full of compassion and wisdom and the tears would roll again.  I managed to stop the tears when she arrived but partway through the visit, they flowed again.  She was kind and understanding, not judgemental.  "Crying is a right of passage on the day three visit", she said.  "We are surprised if a mom doesn't cry when we visit on day three."

"I know this is normal for me", I explained.  "I remember this raw emotion after having my last two."

I have a good friend who checks in with me every day. On day three, I started dialing her number and cried as soon as I pressed the buttons.  After hearing my tears she responded, "it's one of those days, isn't it?"  I was crying because I knew she would love me, wouldn't judge.  Also, wouldn't worry about me.  Because she knows, as well as I know, that this will pass for me.  I've never had post partum depression but I certainly get the baby blues.

Another interesting part of the recovery has been the need to process my labour and delivery.  I have replayed it over and over in my head.  Sorting it through.  Longing to experience some of the amazing parts again.  Basking in the love and support I felt through it all. Feeling so proud of how I embraced and managed it. Coming down off a euphoric high and trying to find peace with the experience and move forward.

Having an "audience" to my birth was something new for me.  I loved the support of my mom, mother in law and especially the midwives but I was used to just having Adam as my support in the past and I felt somewhat vulnerable about how they perceived my "performance".  I know it's not a performance and I know I had nothing to prove but I still felt this need to be told by everyone that I had done a good job.  That I had coped well and maybe even impressed them.  Silly desire, but there it was anyways.  I thought this through and came to realize that I only needed to seek affirmations from myself and from God.  That their perception of the experience was not so important and I didn't need to crave their praise.  I also felt this need to connect with my caregiver.  My midwife had been amazing, especially in the final moments of pushing.  I suppose she had become a hero to me in those moments.  So I wrote her a letter, called it my 'creepy love letter' and she was kind and loving in reading it.  I remember after having Riley, going back to the hospital to see the nurse who had attended my birth.  I thought she would be thrilled to see us, that I had made such a lasting impression on her with my natural child birth, which she had said she rarely saw in the hospital anymore.  Not so.  It was a hilarious and awkward experience, as she pretended to know who we were and we pretended it was no biggie.

I know as I heal physically, I will also heal emotionally.  Engorged breasts, tender cracking nipples, blood flow, cramping uterus, aching back, as well as a host of unseen adjustments that my brain oversees, as hormones, organs and cells all heal from the pregnancy and adjust back to "normal".  These changes and adjustments take time.  I am more patient with this healing process, as a mom of three.  It's still hard but I have more maturity and patience with the process.  I respect it and understand that I am normal, that these challenges are normal, that it won't be like this forever, that it's ok if at moments I feel overwhelmed, overtired, and emotional.  These are steps and stages of healing.

To all moms reading this, you are amazing for what you do to bring life into the world.  
Ivy Grace Layton, I do this all for you.  I love you.  I am honored to be your mother.

Baby time...maybe.

Well, here I sit at home, passing the afternoon while my kids are in school.  I had a stretch and sweep this morning, so I have been crampy all afternoon and am thinking my baby might enter the world soon....or not.  But it's a very real possibility now.  I try not to think overly about her method of entry. I mean really, how DOES a woman's body DO THAT.  It's so much nicer to just think of it as something simple and beautiful like a flower blooming or something.  Lol.  Joking aside though, I have so much awe and respect for the body as Gods supreme creation and I trust in the incredible processes that are soon to take place.

I just read through some old posts of races I've done and it was almost like reading about someone else's life.  Maybe it's in part because I've taken a break from racing the second half of this pregnancy but it feels like a bit of a distant memory.

That being said, each race is still a part of who I am.  Each experience we have changes us forever.  The real power in any experience of life is who we become from that experience.  Through racing I have learned to pace myself mentally and physically, to manage pain, to break hard things down into smaller pieces in my mind, to have short and long term goals, to have fun and enjoy myself, even when things are hard and that I am not a failure when things don't turn out as I had hoped.  The preparation for races has taught me that worry doesn't help me at all, so no point doing it.  That fear is a lie and to just tell those fearful thoughts, "we'll see."  That I create the future in my mind before I ever have a chance of creating it in reality.  That I am a strong, capable woman and can do hard things.

I'm counting on all these lessons to help me in this impending experience of delivering my baby girl.

Wish me luck and if you are so inclined, keep me in your prayers that all will go well.

The lesson of the varicose veins.

You know how sometimes you learn something, either while sitting in a church class, reading a book or just talking to friends and it's one of those "aha" moments? Where the message reaches down deeper than usually, strikes a chord and opens up your mind and heart to some new truth.

Then there's the harder won lessons, that come from getting your hands dirty...

The lessons that are the results of a life experience.  The prize taken from passing through something difficult or new...that takes time to learn.  These truths tend to sink a little deeper.  They reach deep inside and introduce us to ourselves.

My varicose veins have been a catalyst for one of these introductions.

Now, I know there are many health problems much more ominous and threatening than varicose veins.  I also know that if I had something worse, that would become my new lesson and I would care a lot less about these darn veins.

Please don't judge me for how much my veins bother me, I am human and a work in progress after all.

So when I look down at my legs and see this, it's hard for me.

It's hard for me to see my body change, as part of my sacrifice offered in having this child.  But I am learning, through time and talking to others, how to put this sacrifice into perspective.  I am being introduced anew to a part of myself that values motherhood immensely.

These legs that have swam, biked and ran through miles and miles of terrain are now straining to give life to my little girl.  I am grateful for all that my body has done and for what it is doing right now.

I guess the lesson I'm learning is this:
What good is a body if it's only function is to look good?  (Well, some would say, that's enough for them.)  It's not enough for me.  This body I've been given is a tool.  A gift.  A precious gift from a loving Heavenly Father and I get to choose what I do with it.  As I use it to do good, there will be a cost to my body.  It's inevitable.  I choose to make that trade, even when it's hard.  That's the lesson I'm learning and that's the introduction to myself that I'm experiencing.

Pregnancy Tips

I thought I'd share a few pregnancy tips.  Not that I'm some guru or anything but these are just some things I've been thinking about that have been helpful to me and maybe they could be helpful to you.

• Don't compare yourself to other pregnant women.  Be kind to yourself and to others by giving each woman the respect and space to let their body do what it needs to do.

• Build up your storage of vitamins and minerals before you even get pregnant by taking a multi or prenatal vitamin daily.  I had my iron levels tested a couple years ago.  I was low so I took extra supplements for a few months and had it re-tested, to get my levels into a good place.  My iron levels have been awesome this pregnancy and I haven't felt as tired as I did my last two pregnancies.  I think once your levels are low, it's really tough to get them up during pregnancy with that precious little leech in your womb.  

• Along the same lines, I really believe in taking a good quality prenatal vitamin.  It's been proven that different brands of vitamins have much different absorption rates.  My naturopath recommended the Douglas labs "Pure" brand, which are relatively inexpensive.  I also take an extra omega 3 (for baby's brain development), zinc (cure for preventing anal fissures - a whole other story, which I'm happy to share if you're interested) and calcium/magnesium (because then I don't get any leg cramps).

• Sweat pants are your friend but you'll probably feel like a slob if you wear them everyday...I know I did. I felt more attractive when I started mixing in some jeans, makeup and doing my hair, even though sweats still have a dear place in my heart and in my wardrobe...with leggings following as a close second.

• Don't make pregnancy an excuse to eat crap all the time.  I've seen others do this, put on obscene amounts of weight and then they have to work so hard afterwards to get back to feeling good.  I do believe that some bodies will just tend to put on more weight in pregnancy, no matter how you eat (and you shouldn't beat yourself up if that's what your body tends to do because you should trust your body knows what it's doing) but don't make the damage worse by treating pregnancy like a nine month cheat day.  Not only for the weight gain issue but also for your and your baby's health...Nourish Yourself!

• Take time to rest.  Took me awhile to learn this when I was pregnant with Riley because I viewed sloth with the highest disdain and felt guilty if I wasn't productive all...the....time.  But I learned that wasn't serving me well and that, just as a worked muscle needs time to recover and rebuilt stronger, our whole bodies, as well as our minds and emotions need rest, in order to be well and balanced.  I find that I need at least one or two afternoons a week to rest (read, nap, whatever)

Marks of Motherhood

 I've wondered about the words, 'pregnant glow' lately.  Maybe that glow comes in part from being a little sweaty from having just thrown up your lunch.  Or maybe it's because you're flushed and oxygen deprived from the baby compressing your lungs.  Or maybe it's something more poetic and magical....

Pregnancy and child birth (not to mention raising the actual child) are certainly experiences that change you forever.

I've been thinking about some of these changes lately.
I've heard of so many different symptoms that female friends and family have experienced.  Depression, weight gain, nausea, insomnia, crazy dreams, joint pain, back pain, anxiety, water retention, mood swings, food aversions and migraines to name a few.  My sister's whole body would itch severely during her third trimester.  Pregnancy is so weird.

For my part, I had nausea with all three pregnancies.  I had some insomnia in my last pregnancy but thankfully not this time.  My feet were both a size 8 before I had Riley.  After that first pregnancy, they became a size 8.5  Then, miraculously after Kyla my right foot was a 9 and my left an 8.5.  It remains to be seen where my feet will end up after round three.  I had the strangest symptom after Kyla where the left side of my scalp was constantly greasy.  Didn't matter if I had just showered and blow dried my hair, that side was as greasy as if I hadn't showered in weeks.  Only solution I found was to shampoo with dish soap.  I struggled emotionally in my pregnancy with Kyla and I remember Adam saying, "I miss my Kimmy."  It was said in a sweet, longing way.  Not judgementally.  I missed myself too.

If you've spent much time with me the past month, you've probably heard me lament my most recent change that I'm grappling with: VARICOSE VEINS.  I love my legs.  They're strong, healthy, long and athletic.  I've never been much into flaunting them with high heels but I just privately find joy in them.  It's hard to see something you love become scarred.  I had some veins collapse last time but I hoped that after I had the baby they would heal up.  They didn't.  This time around, more veins have been struggling and bulging and darkening.  Not only that but they throb sometimes too.  One even has a clot in it that I will be getting an ultrasound on shortly.

It's astounding and humbling for me to consider these sacrifices.  I can picture in my mind's eye, many women that I love, offering their bodies as a vessel to bring a child into this world.  It is like they are stepping forward to an altar of sacrifice; silently, willingly, laying their offering there.  It is a deeply personal, divine experience.  It is an incredible sacrifice.  Hard, at times.  One that changes you, both inside and out, forever.

After having Kyla, my tummy carried some extra bulge.  I lamented this and obsessed over it a bit.  Then I started to learn something.  This was a mark of motherhood.  A mark on my body that I carried with me,  a sign of the sacrifice I had given.  To God this mark was beautiful.  I had a hope planted in my heart that perhaps with some time and perspective it would be beautiful to me too.  Perhaps all the marks I bear, both emotional and physical, will become incredibly beautiful to me.  They are symbols of my sacrifice.  Symbols of what I have offered.  Symbols that I am a mother.  

Six year old maternity clothes should be burned.

Ok so I'm 22 weeks pregnant now and I FINALLY decided to go through my old maternity clothes.  I've had these boxes stowed away in a closet for a long time.  Over six years to be exact.

You may wonder, what have I been wearing all this time? 

Well, I have bought some new clothes, specifically skirts and dresses but I haven't bought any shirts or pants yet.  I have a lot of long shirts, so I've just been stretching those out.  I'm totally fine with letting them get stretched out and "wrecked" because then I can throw them away after and buy new clothes.  In terms of pants, I'm down now to black sweat pants and black leggings.  I tried on all my pairs of jeans one morning last week before I went out to volunteer in my daughter's class and not a single pair fit.  No, it wasn't fun trying them all on, in case you were wondering.  

So last night I finally bit the bullet and pulled out those boxes.  It was worse than I expected....much, much worse.  Keep in mind that I was a poor student back in my previous pregnancies and I think some of the clothes I wore had even been handed down to me when I was pregnant with Riley, making them like 10 years old.  It felt like such a time warp.  A tragic time warp into maternity nightmares.  Adam laid on our bed reading a book while I groaned, moaned and sometimes laughed as I sorted through the clothing.  At the end of the experience, I laid down feeling tired and annoyed with my lack of clothing options for the next 4 months.  It's just so hard to spend money on clothes I'm only going to wear for such a short period of time.  He said something like, "Kim, pregnancy is hard enough with the changes to your body,  Don't make it harder on yourself by wearing clothes that you feel ugly in.  Spend some money and buy yourself some clothes you like.  Just donate the rest."  

Ok so before I donate these beauties, I thought I would share a few of them for your enjoyment.
I tried to really show off the two-toned tummy pouch and I think you'll also appreciate my modeling skills.

I Choose To Be A Mother.

Two years ago I was training for Ironman Cozumel with Adam.  We spent an of average of about 15 hours/week training.  In crash weeks we were training upwards of 26 hours/week.  It was very demanding and fulfilling at the same time and required a lot of planning and teamwork for me and Adam.  After the race, we were both on this athletic high.  The experience had been beyond incredible. We were so eager to keep the dream alive so to speak and signed up for two half ironmans, one in Hawaii and one in Miami.  We ended up making the heart wrenching decision to forfeit our Miami registration because the race fell on a Sunday, which is a sacred day of rest in our religion.  We did race in Hawaii and had an incredible experience.

On the one hand, it seemed that we had come upon an incredible lifestyle.  Training, travelling and racing held such appeal.  We were both getting faster and faster.  Adam often mentioned how great it would be to get our pro card.  We were at a bit of a cross roads.  I felt like I had been a good mom through all this training and racing.  I mean, how does anyone really define what a "good mom" is.  It's so subjective but I felt in my heart that I had been giving my mothering enough time and attention for my kids to thrive....I just wasn't sure I could keep doing that going forward, if I pursued triathlon even more.  At this new stage, I wondered if a shift was required for our family.

Please keep in mind as you read this, that these are my own personal musings and in no way reflect what is right and good for each and every family.  We are all so different and we all have our own choices to make and our own roads to travel.

Two roads seemed to stretch out in front of me.  Both held their own unique appeal.  On the one road, I could continue to pursue triathlon to see how far I could take it.  With my kids growing older and in school full time, I would have plenty of time for training.  I foresaw on this road a lean body, amazing experiences travelling and competing with Adam, medals, building of character through training and competition.  But I also saw myself feeling a strain and pull on my energy and focus between mothering and triathlon.  Even if I got my training in while my kids were in school, I knew that the emotional and physical demands of the training would effect my mothering.  I know that some women pull off being a mother and an elite athlete but I know my limits and I know for myself that although excelling in sport would provide some inspiration to my children, it would also have a cost.

On the other road, I saw us continuing to try for a third baby.  Whether or not I actually got pregnant, I saw myself being devoted even more fully to being a mother.  Not just making it something I did out of duty but something I gave more of myself to.  Not a side job but my main job and focus in life.  When I looked down this road, I looked further into the future.  I saw myself when I was eighty years old.  Sitting in a chair with my husband next to me, talking about our lives....reminiscing.  I imagined us talking about our children.  Discussing the ups and downs, the funny moments, the sacrifices and most of all, the people they had become.  I felt a taste of that joy.  The joy of raising a child into an adult.  Of giving them such a huge piece of myself through time and sacrifice and seeing those things blossom.

I wanted that more than I wanted the medals.

I still do.

So, I chose anew to be a mother.  I had made this choice before and I imagine I'll make it again.

I love my kids, I always have.  Triathlon, sport and fitness have been a part of my life for many years and I hope they will continue to be for many more years.  I have no regrets with the races that Adam and I have been able to participate in.  I treasure those experiences deeply.  They are a part of who I am now.  I hope that the character development from Ironman will help me to be an even better person and to have a greater influence on the people in my life, including my children.

I plan to earn more medals to hang on my wall in the future and hope that I can strike that delicate balance between being the mother I want to be and pursuing those things in life that bring me joy and help me to be a better person.  It's not easy but I'm going to try.

It's a GIRL!

I feel like it's risky to hope for a gender but....I was really hoping for a girl.

Everyone kept saying they thought it was a boy, everyone except my mom.  Early in my pregnancy my acupuncture guy said he was getting some really masculine energy from the fetus so he figured it was a boy.  Or a really masculine girl I guess, whatever that means.

Then at my midwife appt. earlier this week, she said she had a really strong feeling it was a boy and then she wrote her guess on my forms.  I asked her if she's usually right and she said, "I'm about 50/50."

Adam has felt strongly that it's a boy from the beginning.  We've mostly called it a "he" but I've had my little desire for another little girl, that I've tried to suppress because I wanted to be open to whatever little spirit is coming to our family.  And I would have loved a boy too of course.

I've been having super intense dreams leading up to this ultrasound.
In one dream I went to my appt and they removed the baby (don't know how) to examine her and she weighed 12 pounds.  I was so concerned about putting her back in because then she'd be so big to push out at full term, so my midwife told me I could keep her out.  Then I had to be super gentle and careful in caring for her because she was pre-term and for some reason, blind as well.
In another I realized my ultrasound was a day early and so I rushed out the door to get to the appt.  While stopped at a stop light, a big black lady got in the back of my car and demanded that I take her to her appt.  I refused, saying how important my appt. was and we fought for awhile.  Finally she got out and I started trying to get to my appt again, which is when I woke up with my heart racing.

So, needless to say I've been kinda worried and apprehensive about this pregnancy, which is strange for me because I'm not usually a worrier.  I've had a couple friends have miscarriages recently and a couple friends lose their babies and my heart has broken for each of these people that I love.  It's made me realize that there are no guarantees, even for people close to me and even for me.

I had this little fear that I would lay down on the technician's table and she would bring up my uterus on the screen and there would be nothing in there.

The technician I did end up having, not in my nightmares but in real life, turned out to be the nicest person.  She let my two kids, my husband and my parents into the room for the whole thing.  And when she showed me my little person up there on the screen, I was relieved and filled with love and amazement.  There really is a little person in there and she looked so perfect to me, even with her alien face.  Every little feature looked incredible, like a true miracle in my body.  I was teary when I first saw my beautiful little baby and I was teary again when she told me that it's a girl.  I was grateful for a kind technician that would make that experience special, safe and comfortable for me and my family.

Favorite moments:

- Riley commenting a few times, "I think I see a penis."

- When the technician said, "It looks like you're having a little girl."

- Riley asking how her computer works, how her instruments work, how the gel works, where the amniotic fluid was, what would happen if the umbilical cord broke and so on and so on...

- The technician telling me she was happy to answer all our questions and she loves her job, especially doing babies.  (I'm going to write her and boss a letter thanking her).

- Seeing how much my baby moves.  Her feet were up by her head, then stretched out, then she'd roll over.  I remember at my ultrasounds with my two other kids that the technician was surprised by the movement and it was no different this time.  Another wiggly, active little baby coming at us I guess.

- Telling my mom at the end, "I'm so glad you both could be here with us." My mom responded, "yeah, it was so special for us to be here." Then we both looked over at my dad and he was asleep in his chair.  So funny.  He has mild narcolepsy, as his excuse (at least I have diagnosed him with that).

A Pregnant Runner.

Pregnant running...just those words create lots of funny mental images for me.

I always enjoy watching people run.  Being a personal trainer and a longtime lover of running, I like noticing the different techniques.  I'm proud and impressed with anyone who gets on a treadmill or gets outside and runs.  Some are extremely comical though.  A common one is the "bouncy" gait.  You know, the people who spend more of their energy going up than going forward.  Last week I saw this guy who was running but yet, it was slower than a really slow walk.  I mean he had the running movements but he wasn't really moving.  And now, I fall into one of these comical categories.

A pregnant runner.

My belly hasn't reached it's full splendor but it will soon enough and I'll still be running then too...I hope.  I ran right up until the end of both my previous pregnancies.  I always ran outside back then (didn't have money for a gym membership back in the day) and I remember getting a lot of looks.  I could just imagine what was going through their heads...."is that girl pregnant....whoa....like not just a little pregnant.....but she looks like she could have her baby any day now.....whoa....she's actually running.....that must be like, really, really uncomfortable."  I loved those faces.  I just kept on running and thinking, "oh yeah, that's right.  Stare all you want, I'm totally in my element right now."

You see, running is like a major form of therapy for me.  It reminds me I am strong.  It releases the stresses of the day.  It fills me with all those beautiful endorphins, more that any other type of exercise.  I love it so much, I even wrote a poem about it.

Once a week I meet up with my dad and we run together.  It's bonding and fun.  I find we have the best conversations when we're running together and I plan to connect with my kids as they get older by going for runs with them.  We usually run between 5 and 8 km and we're not terribly fast but it's all good.  He's old and I'm pregnant, so we both have a good reason to just slow down and enjoy it.

Side note: I'm 18 weeks pregnant now and have my first ultrasound tomorrow where I will hopefully find out if it's a boy or girl.  So excited!

I AM NOT MY BODY.

I don't read blogs much.  Weird, I know, considering I write one.

The first time I sat down at my computer and got lost in "blogger-land", reading blogs of people I knew, I was left feeling yucky.  Yep, yucky is the best word for it.
I felt the foul tinge of envy from the lives portrayed by these bloggers.  I know that is a result of my own insecurities coming up to the surface but it's also the nature of the blogging world.  It tends to not be very 'real'.   One blog I do check fairly regularly because I feel uplifted when I read it, is Stephanie Nielson’s blog.

Her and her husband were in an airplane crash, in which over 80% of her body was badly burned.  They survived but her body is so scarred and she now stands as an example to the world of the beauty of the soul.  I say this because the incredible woman she is, shines through her scarred skin.  Her example has made me want to be a better person.  Her example has made me want to be a better mother.  Her example has reminded me that I am not my body, in a very poignant way.  I have cried for her and I have been in awe of her.

You should check out this youtube video about Stephanie called, My New Life.

She went from looking like this

To this

In the beginning of the video, Stephanie says, "I am not my body."
Those words struck me back a few years ago when I first watched the video.  They have come back to my mind this week.

Those words speak to me.

This blog is a lot about fitness, about the body.  I love trying to take care of my body.  I love learning about nutrition.  I like trying to look good but even more, I love feeling good.  I love feeling strong, healthy and capable.  Fitness and nutrition help me with that. Ultimately, I feel deep inside that this body I have is a gift.  It is a gift to carry me through this mortal life.  It is the place my soul resides while I am on earth.  My soul is who I really am.  My soul existed before I came to earth.  My soul will continue to exist after death.  My soul is eternal.  This body is not.  At times, I feel frustrated with my body but that's ok. I know it's normal for our soul to struggle somewhat trying to carry out a life in an imperfect shell.  I do believe that one day we will all be resurrected and receive an eternal, perfect body.  But for now,  I try to care for my body so that my soul can live more fully.  That is what those words, "I am not my body" mean to me.

"Begin to develop authentic power, which is not located in the physical body...You will know that you are not that body, and that the real measure of your humanity is in your soul housed in that body.  Your sense of self will shift from being totally identified with your body, to being identified with your invisible self."  

                                                                               - Dr Wayne W. Dyer from "Real Magic"

Sometimes mom whines too.

In the past three Saturdays we have biked for over 150 kms as a family.
The first Saturday, we biked from Canmore to Lake Minnewanka to Banff and back.  Wow, the scenery was incredible.  The climb to Lake Minnewanka was challenging, as it was a pretty long uphill but then it was a tonne of fun going back down.  When we asked our kids what their favorite part of that ride was, they said it was the ice cream we had in Banff.  Not the world-class scenery, it was the ice cream.  All right.  At least they appreciate a good Mcdonald's cone.  It did taste pretty amazing but most things do when you've worked up an appetite by exercising outside.

The next Saturday we parked up at Pierce Estate park and biked over to the Stampede grounds, around behind the Talisman Centre and then down to the Glenmore Reservoir and back.  A good reminder that you really haven't seen the beauty that Calgary has to offer until you've hit the trail system.  It is so incredible.

This past Saturday we decided to start from our house and ride over to the Glenmore reservoir and back.  My legs were tired to start with because I had been doing weights all week and had run almost 2 hours the day before.  It was a 58 km loop and as you can imagine, Adam and I end up doing most of the work pulling the tag along bikes.  The kids do pedal but it's kind of a casual rotation of the crank, rather than a real driving push.

As we got closer to the turnaround point, Adam seemed like he wanted to go for the yellow jersey and I had a hard time keeping up.  This annoyed me somewhat, so I may or may not have done some whining about that when we stopped for our snack.  Then Adam noticed that Riley's front tooth was looking gray-ish.  It's been loose for weeks but he has resisted our attempts to let us pull it out because he wanted it to "fall out on it's own."  We've respected his agency, trying to give him control over his own body but we reminded him that the tooth needed to come out.  So he turned away, gave it a pull himself and out flew the tooth into a pile of gravel.  Hmmm....that's great, but now we need to actually find it.

After finding the little item, we headed back.  This time I was determined to win the jersey and asked Adam if Kyla and I could lead.  We make it back to the Ranche (25km) in an hour.  After another snack/washroom break we started on the last short leg home. Adam thought we should loop around to the north bridge but as we started that way I realized my legs were shot and I was officially a whiny momma.  Adam said, "if you stop whining I'll give you a foot rub when we get home."  He also reminded me of the quote by Jeffrey R Holland that I always remind him of when he's the whiny one.  "Nothing is so bad that whining won't make it worse."  My mature little four year old was also buoying me up from behind.  "Mom, don't worry, we're almost there.  Just enjoy it."

Sometimes mom whines too.

Oh and we've decided that we are now the touring Mexicans.