My routine was simple. Wake up, go to gym, lift for about an hour, drink protein shake, come home, shower, get ready for the day, eat some chicken and drink an energy drink. Somewhere in there I went to work or I did stuff around the house, I would eat more chicken at some point along with some veggies, and I’d probably have another shake. My life was about my body, what I put into it and what I could make of it. I had gotten down to my lowest weight to date and felt a real sense of pride in what I was able to accomplish. I was getting to the point where I was ready to start adding muscle to my physique when a teeny tiny little plus sign changed everything.
That night I cried, as previously stated, but when the tears subsided I looked at my beloved and said, “well, I guess this means my diets off.” Then we walked to Betos and I chowed down on a burrito. Don’t get me wrong, there was a part of me that said I was going to eat healthy throughout my pregnancy but that notion faded out rather quickly.
I had spent months of my life avoiding cookies and candy, french fries and chips, and everything tasty in between. For the first time in my life it was not only acceptable for me to gain weight but it was encouraged! That being the case, I was more than apt to eat an Oreo or two, or ten….
Before we had told anyone we were expecting was probably the most difficult, especially for me. My coworkers had become really accustomed to my chicken and broccoli or my salmon and broccoli. They had congratulated me on all my weight loss and were asking me for tips on how they could achieve their goals. Then out of the blue one day I was eating french fries. The next day chicken strips. The next day a sandwich and *gasp* some bread. Aside from that there was the sudden, unexplainable absence of my long time friend, a can of Rock Star. One of those things was glued in my hand the moment I walked through the doors, so for there to just one day be nothing but some water or some juice… to say my coworkers were looking a me strange and questioning my sudden change in routine would be an understatement.
Its funny because one of the first questions people ask me or I’m sure any pregnant girl for that matter is, “are you having any cravings?” I mean, I might be having some but its hard to tell. With my diet being so restricted before and now suddenly most things are fair game, its hard to say. I’m just happy eating all the food I couldn’t eat and will for certain discontinue eating once this little babe is born. There was that one week I couldn’t stop drinking lime juice though… I suppose that was a craving?
Diet aside I was determined to continue working out. After meeting with the doctor she said I could continue to lift weights so long as I didn’t increase my repetitions or the amount of weight I was doing. More or less I had a green light for maintenance, save for maybe laying off the squats for a while, which hurt my heart a little bit but I was fine other wise.
I set out for the gym, as per my usual routine, but I could feel it, something was off. To my fellow exercise enthusiasts, the sensation is relatable, when you’re dragging through a workout and can’t seem to get a hitch in your giddy up. Its like you just can’t muster the energy to push through it. I would usually turn to a caffeinated beverage to help produce some of the energy needed but hey, since I was pregnant that was no longer an option.
This relentless fatigue followed me from the gym to home and then to work. I can’t complain much because I have honestly bypassed most of the dreaded pregnancy symptoms. I literally didn’t have a single ounce of morning sickness. That’s right all you mom’s out there reading this, go ahead and hate on me because I just so happened to be part of the very small percentage of women who don’t end up hugging that porcelain throne. But what blessings I received from not puking my guts out was more than made up for by the debilitating case of the sleepies.
I have always been a night owl so I’m sure it came as quite a surprise to Tycen when I was falling asleep around 9 o’clock. You’d think this early turn in time would result in my morphing into an early riser, FALSE, you are dead wrong. I’d sleep in till 11! The fatigue was crippling! I pretty much napped all day unless I absolutely had to get up for something like work. Apparently manufacturing placenta round the clock, 24 hours a day, takes a lot out of a girl. Soon my weeks of working out every single day turned into working out 3 days a week, then twice a week. Then finally came the a whole entire week without working out.
For 12 weeks I suffered through this insane amount of feeling tired, by the time I finally made it to the blessed second trimester and my energy levels picked up again, I had fallen so far behind on my work outs that I no longer knew what I was capable of in the gym. Once my long time friend the gym was now a stranger to me. Should I go back to lifting as much as I was before? Or would that hurt the baby? Everything certainly felt different. My body is a vessel for a tiny miracle, it just didn’t feel right to be punishing my body anymore.
Now I’ve settled into walking. Occasionally I’ll make it to the gym and I’ll complete an arm workout, albeit a much shorter and lighter one than before, but for the most part, just walks. Walks around the neighborhood, walks around the track, walks around the restaurant.
I see other pregnant women at the gym doing absolutely incredible things. More power to them and I applaud them, however I’m not there nor do I see a need to push myself to get there, at least not right now. Once that sweet little babe is outside my belly you had better believe it will be game on. The punishment and sore life style will begin again for me along with a highly restricted diet. Until then I’m going to enjoy my french fries.
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