Sunday, November 27, 2011

Slow down, you move too fast...

As a pregnant, CrossFitting mama to be, I sometimes feel pretty invincible.  Up until two weeks ago, I was still doing 20 inch box jumps and only switched to step ups at the request of one of the coaches.  I still use the barbell (albeit lighter weights and I'll take oly lifts from the hang, not the floor).  And I get pretty awesome pictures taken that look like this:


This is 29 weeks, practicing my snatch balance.  I mean, if I can still work on snatch balances and overhead squats, I've got to be pretty stable, right?  I despise taking help from people who feel like I can't complete simple tasks like carrying a bag of groceries because I'm pregnant.  I pooh-poohed all talk of how my center of gravity is shifting, because honestly, I never felt that my body was changing like that.  Just because my belly is expanded doesn't mean my balance is off.  I'm a strong girl, and a shifting center of gravity clearly didn't apply to me.
Until I tripped and fell right in my own house, slammed my stomach into the ground and somehow landed on my right ankle on Saturday night.  I don't remember that much about my tumble, other then it hurt.  The pain in my right ankle was so shocking, it took me a long time to realize that I also hit my stomach.  It took some cajoling to convince me to go to the ER -- I didn't want to be that pregnant woman who panicked over a fall, but what if something was truly wrong?  I didn't want to take a risk, and my lovely husband coaxed me into the car to head to the hospital.
And that's when I started crying.  I strive not to be the paranoid, over-analytical/hysterical pregnant lady, but the mere thought that my own stupidity could harm my little one was alarming and overwhelming.  Once we got to the ER and my husband wheeled me in (far more anti-climatic than I would have anticipated; I can safely say there's nothing enjoyable about being wheeled around in a wheelchair), it was obvious that the ER was a bit overwhelmed to have a pregnant woman to treat.  The hospital didn't have a maternity ward, and the nurse was nervous about finding the baby's heartbeat and kept trying to tell me that if she couldn't hear it, it didn't mean that it wasn't there.  In the meantime, I sat there sobbing and apologizing for my blubbering nature.  Finally, another nurse found the heartbeat, and eventually, my little one decided to move for me and say hello.  Reassuring.  (She's a good girl).
The doctor had to convince me to get my foot x-rayed as I was nervous about having any radiation near my body.  (At first, he was determined there was a break, and when there wasn't, he claimed that he had always known it was a sprain.  Hmm).  I was told to stay off my foot, and hopefully all would be well within a week. They gave me Tylenol and told me that they were going to send me to another hospital to have the baby monitored and to make sure I didn't start having contractions.  I was given an air cast for my sprain and then waited an hour and a half to be discharged.  I don't know if they forgot about me or what, but it was clearly a slow night, and I was annoyed, bored, and hungry.
When my husband and I got to the second hospital, the ER seemed confused about what to do with me, but the receptionist finally called up to Labor and Delivery, and thus all was right with the world.  "Where have you been?  We've been waiting for you!" the nurses and doctor on call all exclaimed, and I was whisked into a very nice birthing room (although the television reception was iffy), and was told that I would be hooked up to two monitors -- one to record her heartbeat and one to check and see if I was having contractions.  A doctor came in and did an ultrasound to check my placenta, but my husband and I got to see our beautiful little girl.  While I don't believe in having too much medical intervention, it was so wonderful to see that she was there, moving around, seemingly content (although that's me projecting my own feelings onto our baby, but clearly I'm allowed to).  I asked the doctor to reconfirm her gender, and yes, my daughter was spread eagle, clearly a girl.  Seeing her legs, I'm convinced she has my chunky thighs and will obviously be able to squat 200 pounds by her tenth birthday.  The best part, though, was that a medical student was shadowing the doctor, and the doctor pointed out to him that our girl was practicing breathing on her own.  And I could see it.  I started crying all over again, so comforted in the fact that if something did happen, and I sudden went into preterm labor, she'd be able to breathe.
How amazing is it that the hospital bed controls show a pregnant body!!!!!  I totally got a kick out of it and decided it was a photo worthy moment.

And it was a long four hours that I sat in a hospital bed.  One nurse sat with me while my husband ran out to buy us dinner, and I learned that she actually works full time at the hospital where I'll be delivering.  She was charming, sweet, and lovely, and I know that the baby and I will be in good hands in ten (give or take) weeks!  And thankfully, the baby's heartbeat was wonderful, I never had a contraction, and at midnight, the nurse bid me farewell ("Good-bye, Cinderella!") to then notice that I had never received crutches from the first hospital.  So, the nurse tracked down a pair, walked us out, and sent us on our merry way.  The whole ordeal lasted over eight hours and it was so nice to finally make it home.
Perhaps the most difficult part of the evening, though, was hearing another woman in labor.  It sounded somewhat inhuman, primitive, miserable.  My husband squeezed my hand while I sat in horror, wondering how I'd be able to handle it.  I later found out from the doctor on call that it was a very difficult, very pre-term labor.  Of course, she couldn't provide any details, and a million thoughts raced through my brain.  I felt so unbelievable lucky that my little one was safe, and so saddened that another one is not.  There's so much out of our control with pregnancy, and while I'm generally very accepting of it, it's hard not to worry or be concerned.  
So, I have to stay off my ankle, and it's off to the midwives tomorrow.  That means no CrossFitting any time soon, and I'm forced to take a step back and slow down.  (It was fun for a couple hours; now I find it grating).  But, I'm learning that I need to be a bit more accepting of my body's limitations while still being in awe of what it can do (like grow a really amazing person).  Right now, I'm just trying to enjoy her movement and I love when I can actually feel and see her moving -- so bizarre, but so awesome!  And maybe, perhaps, this is my body's way of forcing me to slow down.  I think this time, I'll actually listen (at least for the next few days).

5 comments:

  1. SO Glad to hear everything is allright! So sorry to hear about your tumble, but glad the little one is totally fine. Thank god for evolution and amniotic fluid right? You look fantastic :)

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  2. Amniotic fluid is pretty amazing! I kept on trying to remind myself of that while sitting in the ER.
    It's a good thing I have a GREAT photographer!

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  3. Lindsey, so glad you and your little one are OK!!! What a scary experience. How is your ankle feeling?

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  4. Sorry to hear that Lindsey--ankle injuries suck and I'm sure it's a lot worse when your pregnant. Good to hear everything's ok though!

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  5. Thanks everyone -- ankle is still pretty sore, and my midwife painting a bit of a grim prognosis, but hopefully I'll bounce back soon! I'm trying to be a good patient for both myself and my little one.

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