Yep, that’s what my midwife told me about lifting anything more than 15lbs. Apparently when you lift weights, you contract your abs. (shocking) What I didn’t know was that the force of my abs contracting could actually crush my baby and cause me to deliver early. (insert eye roll here)
For Pete sake…..REALLY!? How did we as women decide that being pregnant was a “condition” which required special parking spaces, and super restrictions of our lifestyle? Who woke up pregnant and thought to themselves, “Wow, self, I think we should sit on the couch and eat pudding for 9 months because that sounds like more fun than actually doing work.”
GAG ME.
I’m strong. Like…REALLY FUCKING STRONG for a woman. Just the other weekend I overhead squatted my body weight (63.5kg’s) twice. The next weekend I set a new jerk PR, and put 66kg’s over my head. Somewhere in the middle of that I also PR’d my snatch, catching 53.5kg’s over my head. I’m not games-competitor-strong, but I like to fancy myself on the useful side when it comes to moving furniture, or carrying groceries.
Not only has CrossFit made my pregnant body strong, it has also made it mentally tough as well. I feel 100% in control of my body, my diet and my workouts, and that’s exhilarating for me. I feel empowered, and I feel that I deserve to experience child birth as it was MEANT to be experienced. I eat like a cave woman, so why not give birth like one too?
Somewhere along the way, doctors have convinced women that we are incapable of giving birth. I’m pretty sure that the same person who decided delivering a baby was a medical procedure also started assigning “expectant mother parking”, though I can’t say for certain. Delivering a baby isn’t some medical mystery from which I need to be rescued. I don’t need to be under bright lights with sterile doctors staring at my crotch to ensure my baby comes out alive. I can do that myself. I don’t need their supervision. I don’t need their insensitive, medical selves in the same room with me as I give birth.
Know what I do need? I need a midwife. I need someone who will come to my home and let me give birth on my own terms. I need someone who will understand what it means when I say “natural child birth”. I need someone there to guide me through the process, not someone to medically push it along so they can make it home in time for dinner.
Our decision to use a midwife for our delivery is shocking and upsetting to some of our family and friends, because it goes against “the norm”. Know what? My whole life goes against the norm. Big deal. We didn’t make this decision lightly, and we looked into more conventional options. After carefully reviewing both sides, we decided that we PREFER to give birth at home. I hate the hospital. I hate the way they smell. I hate the way the sheets feel. I want to take charge of my child birth, and experience it without the numbing effect of the hospital.
Week 9 was a tough week physically and emotionally for me. I have been constantly nauseous, and very tired. I actually feel like I wake up every morning with a horrible hangover because of the nausea and fatigue. I have taken a couple days off from working out so that I can focus my energy on…well…not throwing up.
Week 10 is starting for me, and I’m feeling a LOT better. I’m still slightly nauseous when I wake up, but it’s definitely manageable. I did “Helen on Pause” this morning, and it sucked….but no more than it would have sucked without being pregnant. 🙂
Over sharing....all the time 