A Fall To Never Forget

I have about half a dozen blog posts ready to go up to catch ya'll up on the grand adventures of Beanie Girl and the ups, downs, and in betweens of motherhood. Don't worry. They'll be posted soon enough. But tonight there is something more important going on.

On November first, a friend of mine lost her husband in a motorcycle vs car accident. She's a 34 year old mother of 4 young kids, one of which is special needs.  No, the 21 year old driver wasn't drunk or on his phone... he just changed lanes without looking. Yes, the motorcyclist was wearing a helmet, but helmets only do so much. Brain injuries too severe to come back from caused death.

Now, I always knew this gal family was special. Fun and rambunctious, they were always on the go. Excuses didn't seem to existas this Submariner's wife raised 4 young kids while getting her Master's degree and even then, went on to work with to help homeless Veterans find housing.

She chatted with me through buying our house while the Sailors were gone, workingon our foster license, helping me understand Submariner Wife life, and even after we parted ways, she inpressed me with her drive and unconventional parenting attitude. (One of her girls juat happens to play co-ed football and another is a cheerleader!)

It didn't surprise me to hear over 200 people visited him in the hospital over the 2 days he was there prior to organ donation. It didn't surprise me to hear they were donating his organs, or even that they had a plan for his passing. It's something we military spouses live with every single day. There is always a chance our loved one could not come home from a deployment, though we are lulled into security when they aren't 20,000 leagues under the Sea. Somehow on land they seem safer- indestructible. We know who is to take care of Beanie Girl or any future kids, if one of us passes. In fact, we have Plan A and Plan B and Plan C.

What struck me to the core is how his passing has brought together an already tight community.

For example, his daughter always wanted to score a touchdown. Not knowing that her dad was in peril yet, the other team (a KIDS league, mind you) conspired to help her score. Kifs can be incredibly unpredictable in the heat of a moment on a sports' feild. The best they could do was at least give her the ball and the opportunity to score. (Her dad was the assistant coach on the team, and they had been working towards that goal.) According to the final defender that was supposed to let her go, he didn't 'let' her... she flattened him! Her dad is no doubt smiling about that one...

The family is taken care of for meals for the next month, and I'm sure anything else as they figure out this new, unwanted, adventure.

But what struck me the most is the caliber of women I get to call 'friends' through this Sub life. I mean, yes, ALL of the stereotypes about military wives are true. I'm pretty sure I've met them all at one time or another. But I've also met people who continue to inspire, humble, and empower me. There is a reason why this gal made the cut. It's perhaps embodied in her reaction to the kid who hit her husband and changed her world in the blink of an eye.

She's mad as hell. (I mean, who wouldn't be?!) An accident like this would cost the kid his job in most cases in the Submarine world. Assuming this kid made a true error in judgment (which seems to be thencase as he's done EVERYTHING right regarding how to handle such an accident), he will have to live with the consequences. He, too, is a Navy Sailor, new to the area.

She sees that as punishment enough.

She sees that he has the capacity to turn this experience into the BEST OBJECT LESSON EVER of safe driving.  She recognizes that this guy could lose livelyhood and NONE OF THAT would rewind time and change things.

She supports him.

She's a unicorn; I'm convinced.

Since hearing about this situation, I also heard of a high school schoolmate being gunned down in her hometown by no fault of her own (wrong place, wrong time)...

So these days, I hug my little family a little tighter, rush to judgement a little slower, and count myself blessed to have such amazing people cross my path.

When Grocery Stores Change Your Perspective

A few weeks ago, I was walking through a local gourmet market with My Sailor and Beanie Girl. She started to cry, so I went and changed her diaper, but that only helped for a moment. It had been a long day out for a 6 week old (at the time), so I knew she was just over stimulated and just done. Which was fine, but we needed a few things before we ended up at home.

My Sailor left to expedite the process by getting the necessary shopping done, while I carried Beanie Girl in my arms, bouncing her gently and trying to get her to take her pacifier. For those few moments, I noticed people exiting the aisle quickly and generally avoiding the screaming baby. I  didn't blame them one bit. I hadn't lost my cool, but it was obvious my nerves were frayed and we were both exhausted, despite the reassuring tones in my words to her.

She might as well have been screaming, "NEW MOM OVER HERE! ROOKIE AT WORK! SAVE ME FROM THE LEARNING CURVE PLEASE!"

Suddenly someone approached us. I was waiting for a well intended peice of advice at best, or reprimand at worst.

Instead, the lady smiled at us and asked how old she was. I told her, still trying to calm Beanie Girl down, "Almost 2 months."

I couldn't bring myself to look at the woman. I thought, "Here it comes," and steeled myself for more of the unsolicited critiques of my lack of mothering skills that everyone seems to love to dish out.

Instead, the lady surprised me, complimenting Beanie Girl on her lungs and good looks. She passed by us, saying, "And don't worry. She's not that loud." 

And she left the aisle, without grabbing anything from the shelves.

An unexpected wave of relief washed over me, and I realized that THIS is what we need a little bit more of. 

Sometimes a situation doesn't need to be fixed. (Sometimes, it can't be.) But I can't think of a time when encouragement has been unwelcome.

So, thank you, grocery store lady.

And Beanie Girl thanks you too.

Beanie Girl Joins The 'Cyst'erhood Too Soon (Photo Heavy)

So, I've thought long and hard about sharing this information. It's a unique part of Beanie Girl's journey. What sold me on sharing this a) is that it's so incredibly rare, perhaps there is some other family out there that could use the information, and b) I've been an advocate for PCOS for so long, it seems wrong not to crack the window to it when it hits home. I'm now experiencing it from an entirely different angle -

My daughter's.

Following the legacy of 'the Impossible Girl' that she is, Beanie Girl has shown up with a condition that even the radiologist and pediatrician had never heard of.

Now, I don't have a lot of experience with infants this small, but meeting her needs thus far has been pretty simple. Feed her. Change her. Keep her warm. Love her. The basic demands of an infant are all there. She's pretty easy going (which we appreciate!). She is about six weeks old now, and sleeps well, nurses well, and is the resident expert in being adorable. While she struggled to put on weight during her first to weeks of life, she's now up to a whopping 8.6 lbs and is (finally) nicely filling out her newborn clothes, and starting to no longer wiggle out of 0-3 month clothes. 

She's busy growing and being adorable and doing all the usual baby things - hitting milestones a bit before their time. A bit of an overachiever, she's wasted no time in confounding her doctors.

About 2 weeks before she was born it was confirmed via ultrasound that she had what was thought to be a 7cm cyst on her ovary. That's right - her ovary. To give you readers some perspective, the ovary of an average adult female is only about the size of a walnut. A 7cm cyst on an adult is large.  The large growths that necessitated the removal of one of my ovaries was only 9 cm. There she was, not even born yet, and already outdoing her mom.




If that wasn't scary enough, the information out there about this type of condition is scattered and largely unhelpful. With a medical background, I have many resources. Research is my friend, but in this case, the research from the USA is completely and utterly mixed. (Here's the link if you're interested enough to read the report.) The report speculates that this condition is more common in children than we may think; we just now have the technology to catch it. While that's a little bit comforting (and makes me wonder what they would have seen on me had that technology been widely utilized in the late 1970's) the news regarding cysts her size was alarming.

To save ya'll some heavy duty reading, here are the concerning findings from that study for us:

"...large cysts are reported in 20-34% of newborns who succumb within the first 28 days of life." For the purpose of the study, 'large' is defined by 4-8cm. 8 was the largest one they found... Anyway, obviously Beanie Girl made it through her first month of life with flying colors.

While complications occurred in 34% of the study's participants - "The most frequent and frightening complication of simple cysts is torsion of the ovary." Torsion is when an ovary twists on itself, cutting off blood flow. It's vomit-inducingly painful and comes in with little or no warning. The large cyst IS the warning. When/if the ovary goes into torsion is any one's guess. While many adults have large cysts that don't result in torsion, they are more developed. Little humans are a bit more delicate when it comes to organs. Either way, adult or child, the result is the same. The offending ovary is removed. Having an organ (even one you have 2 of) removed is MAJOR surgery. (Trust me on this one - I know!)

"Other complications are intracystic hemorrhage, rupture, dystocia during birth, pressure on nearby structures such as blood vessels, uterus, intestines and urinary system."  Don't those sound like fun? Not...  Thankfully, she dodged many of them in utero, and continues to.

"Neonatal ovarian cysts may cause pain, irritability, vomiting, fever and abdominal distension. Peritonitis, anemia due to intracystic hemorrhage, fetal tachycardia due to peritoneal irritation or anemia, and sudden infant death syndrome may also occur." Before I scare everyone, they don't KNOW what causes SIDS. If they did, it wouldn't be called SIDs, it would be called whatever-it's-caused-by.  But needless to say, this requires some extra monitoring and caution. When she gets a fever, even a low grade one, we're monitoring it. When her stomach gets bloated (which is completely normal when a newborn eats), we're watching to make sure it goes down within a reasonable period of time. When she's crying, we're quickly running through everything to try to resolve it, because if we suspect it's caused by intractable pain, we're on our way to the ER.


Here's What This Means For Us

Since we know about her cysts, we can keep an eye on them.

Her first ultrasound (before she was born) showed a 7cm cyst. Her last ultrasound (about a 10 days ago) showed a 4x5cm cyst and a bunch of small ones where the 7cm one used to be. We're taking the conservative approach and watching and waiting. We need to go in every 4-6 weeks to monitor them. The hospital for the ultrasound is in Tacoma - about 45 minutes away from home - and we need to keep her NPO (nothing by mouth) for 4 hours before hand.

Though we know they aren't hurting her, it's far from 'fun' to hold her down while she screams in hunger and confusion on the ultrasound table...for over an hour... (They finally let me crawl up on the table and feed her as they tried to finish up their imaging...I get cranky if I go 4 hours without eating or drinking. I can't imagine how it must feel to a then-1-month-old! But I digress...)

So, here's where the conundrum lies - Small cysts studied usually shrink on their own. About 1/2 of the large cysts in the USA study (which only included 14 patients in 2 hospitals) required removal of the ovary due to torsion within the first 10 days of life. So we are somewhere in the middle right now. She still has a large simple cysts, but it's possible it's shrinking on its own.  

We are banking on that. Only time will tell. I hate to put all my eggs in one basket, but this is really the direction things take... Let's not find out if she Keloids too, please.

Now, when I had issues with my cysts I was older. I could tell folks what was happening.  I could tell them my back hurt, my stomach hurt, I was nauseated, etc...

We have just become Beanie Girl's translators. This makes things like childcare a bit more challenging. Babies cry (seemingly) inconsolably for LOTS of reasons. But we don't need our sitters to 'tough it out'. We need them to call us if they can't discover the cause of the tears. Torsion, left unchecked, can quickly become a life-threatening situation - especially in someone so little.

 Every time she comes down with a low grade fever (common for someone who is doing a lot of growing) or has a gastric issue (common for someone just getting used to, ya know, digesting), we're to call the pediatrician's office.

All of those could mean big things for her.

A Bean and her Boxer

But we're lucky. We have a team of physicians who admit they don't know everything and are up for the challenge of researching and learning about this with us - rather than a team who ignores what they don't understand. Stumbling upon a good team is truly a gift.

"I talked to the Radiologist after they talked to you and she said she was relieved. She said [Beanie Girl] has the perfect mom for her condition." - Dr. Awesome, Beanie Girl's Pediatrician, today.Okay, let's talk turkey here.

The reality of genetics is that Beanie Girl might not even have this condition if she was born to anyone else. There is a good argument for PCOS and similar conditions begin genetically passed on, but I don't blame myself (or my heavy back squats - which didn't cause, help, or hurt the situation, for the record). Blame is non-productive, utterly useless, and a waste of energy (and energy is hard to come by these days!). I believe she is supposed to be with us or we wouldn't have been able to have her to begin with.  Science told use we shouldn't be able to have kids, statistically. We didn't use any advanced medical methods to have her. She's here because she's meant to be and that's all there is to it.  Having had rather extensive experience on ovarian cysts (including decades of research), I have a few tricks for controlling them up my sleeves. However, they make things like formula an absolute no-go which, at the moment, isn't a problem since she's exclusively handling boob-juice like a champ. But in the future, we'll be avoiding/limiting her soy intake, since she's now prone to these cysts, as well as foods that encourage inflammation. Staying lean seems to help most 'cyst'ers, and I'm sure research will continue to turn over new ways of avoiding the complications they cause. While I feel that women's medicine is still (largely) in the Dark Ages, there are shafts of light from time to time.

Out and about on a rough day

 This is just part of her journey. 

And, whatever form or path this journey take - we'll be there for Beanie Girl.

After all, she's our Impossible Girl.
*Bonus points for those who understand the DW reference.*

Beanie Girl's Grand Entrance

The last picture of me pregnant - 3 days before Beanie Girl's birthday

I get a lot of questions about how the birth went. 

Questions like:

"Surely your labor was short because of all of that fitness stuff, right?" 
or
 "Surely your tolerance for pain must be immense since you can get through 200lb back squats, right?"
or
"Surely your water would break on the gym floor during some massive squat or deadlift, right?"

Well, here's the skinny on that.

We arrived at the hospital at 6:30pm on August 17th. And no, my water didn't break in the gym. (In fact, I'd been afraid that I would be one of those women who couldn't tell when her water broke. I can be kinda obtuse that way, and I've never had a kid before. All I knew was that "It doesn't happen like it does in the movies." Gee.. that's helpful. (Not.) That should have been the LEAST of my worries.) It actually had the good timing to (nearly audibly) 'pop' while I was on the toilet in the bathroom. Imagine that! Clean up made easy.

 I'd been in early labor for nearly 3-4 days and the slow progression was exhausting to say the least. For 2 weeks, the doctors were waiting for "any time now", so I had to cancel my appointments an hour away from my chosen hospital. It's amazing how long 14 days seems when you're told 'any time now'... It felt like an ETERNITY!

So I did everything I could to (safely) expedite the process. I tried hiking (logged at least 3 miles/day), pineapple, curry, spicy foods, bedroom antics, and I began taking Evening Primrose Oil. I was almost desperate enough to start Castor Oil (yes, that's a 'thing' when it comes to kick starting labor!!!) but nothing was getting labor going, until my nutritionist reminded me suggested that activity was my 'norm'. While it was priming my body, it was keeping The Bean far too comfortable. So she wisely suggested doing "nothing" and "actually rest". Three words I'm not as familiar with these days as I should be.

Turns out that's exactly what helped kick start the 'eviction' process. Go figure!

I still wasn't having contractions by the time we made it to the hospital, about 1/2 an hour later. My blood pressure was elevated, for the first time all pregnancy. That's never a good sign. They kept monitoring me and The Bean during labor and beyond.  (I'll tell you, I hated that constant blood pressure cuff more than the contractions. )

I asked for a birthing ball, and they gave me the run down of what to expect and asked what my plan was.  They were more than satisfied with my answer of "Whatever gets everyone out safely."
I was along for the ride, and trusted that my medical team (and my body) knew what to do.

  When the contractions kicked in almost an hour later, they didn't waste time and ramped up quickly coming hard and fast. I'd messaged a few friends to help bring My Sailor some food, and The Lady in Grey (mother of 4 and la maze trained coach) arrived. And it's perfect that she was the one who showed up.

You see, the labor and delivery ward was FULL that night, and for some reason, the monitor The Bean and I were hooked up to wasn't reading my contractions. So while the nurses went about their other duties, believing I wasn't REALLY in active labor yet, The Lady in Grey was able to track them down when, ya know, contractions were 2 minutes LONG and 15 seconds APART (though the big catalyst involved me throwing up everywhere... something NO ONE warned me about. Birthing is NOT a pretty process.) Within an hour and a half or so, I was 6.5cm dilated, and couldn't stop shaking with each set of contractions. The vomitting kept creeping up as well -though I had next to nothing in my stomach. (Labor killed my appetite.)

 That's when it was epidural time. They brought someone else in for me since the scheduled guy was doing a c section and, with climbing blood pressure, vomiting, shaking, the risk of me going into seizures was getting higher as the clock ticked onward. I'm still not sure how I held still for the needle... but the guy did a great job!

I was really nervous about getting stuck in the spine. I'd worked in OBGYN enough to hear a million horror stories of epidurals gone wrong. Maybe that fear helped me stay a bit more frozen in place for him, but I'm glad to report that I am not one of those horror stories.

I later learned that I'd been nearly breaking my husband's hand squeezing through the contractions... apparently it was turning purple. (I was just wondering why he wasn't squeezing back!) I had absolutely no concept of how hard I was squeezing. To his credit, My Sailor never complained. In fact, he just said I could squeeze his hand has hard as I needed to. So that's exactly what I did.

The epidural slowed down labor considerably. It then took about 7 more hours to get ready to meet her. The Lady in Grey went home. My Sailor got some sleep, and I channel surfed for what seemed like forever as the night wore on. Still able to feel a dull ache for each contraction, at least the vomiting and shaking had stopped. (A great side effect to epidural anesthetic for me is that it lowers  blood pressure. As long as it was in, my blood pressure normalized, giving everyone a sigh of  relief.)

  When my doc came in to check on me, she let me know we were ready for the pushing stage, and that she was zipping home to shower while the nurses came to put me in position and do some practice pushes with me. She'd be back in 30 minutes or so for the end game.

  She didn't make it back in time. The nurses came in. My Sailor woke up, and we worked on 2 pushes... and that's about the time they asked me NOT to push and, with a quiet level of slowly rising panic, they called my doctor.

She was still 20 minutes out.

So they called the on call doctor. He was down the hall, but The Bean wasn't waiting. Despite my lack of effort, she was coming,  ready or not.

Beanie Girl and I, 1 hr later

Quickly realizing the docs were too far away, they punted. On the next contraction, and instruction for 1 small push, Beanie Girl came into the world in her entirety.  No slow delivery here! The nurse that caught her had never caught a baby before. I'm glad to say, she didn't drop her. No catcher's mitt necessary (but it might not have been a bad idea...).

They put her on my chest and asked me not to move until the on call doc could get there to complete the delivery and the (now necessary and fairly extensive) repair work on the undercarriage.

Dad and daughter, Day 1

We spent a few days in the hospital, but emerged as a party of 3. Beanie Girl was 7lbs and 20 inches at birth. We're working on helping her gain some weight and we're working through some medical issues with her, but she's a trooper. She's 5 weeks old now - still growing up strong. As we're about to entertain the last of her Aunts/Uncles/Grandparents from My Sailor's side, we're slowly finding our stride.

And we're lucky to still have the best support crew ever up here.

Realizations from the Other Side

Jan. 1982

Family Candid from 2012

 This is my family. My father was a tall, dark haired man turned white. At 6'3", most people noticed him when he walked into a room. My brother, a blondish/reddish ruddy complexioned man. My mother is Irish, from her firey red hair to her powerful personality. And there's me - the blond girl in the middle.

Me and My Brother - probably in the 1980s

That's how I grew up.


For me, it wasn't at all unusual for family not to look like each other. In fact, it's one of the most beautiful parts about the way I was raised. I was no one's 'mini me'. I was just allowed to be 'me' - whatever that looked like. I wasn't expected to be a nurse, like many women in my mother's line. I love that my parents didn't waste time and effort looking for themselves in us. They just let us be 'us'. They were the bumpers that helped keep us out of trouble, taught us right from wrong, and helped us learn and grow.

As My Sailor and I are getting ready to welcome our first little one into the world, in a fashion I never expected to use to start our family, I find myself realizing that this is the first time in my life I'll spend my life with someone who might physical resemble me in some way. I mean, she may take after My Sailor more than me for all we know, but there are already signs that my genes have far from been omitted.

Becoming a parent makes us think about all the things our parents got right, and those things we'd do differently. My Sailor and I grew up very differently, so we've had some great discussions, but there is one thing we both completely agree on.

Neither of us need a 'mini me'. One of us in the world is enough.

If she never picks up a barbell, that's okay!
If she decides she hates theater, that's okay!
If she decides she hates sports, that's fine!

Instead, we look forward to getting to know her as she discovers herself and the world around her and finds all those things that make her uniquely her. That doesn't mean there won't be guidance, but we both believe in exploration.

'Family' doesn't necessarily mean a carbon copy of ourselves, but more partners along for this great adventure called 'Life' that we're all on together. 'Legacy' doesn't mean following exactly in each other's footsteps. Maybe it's about blazing our own path while carrying the ones we love with us...

I'm also looking forward to seeing her at my age - and seeing what kind of 'family' she chooses to have in her life as well. I've been incredibly blessed by mine. From my 'Strongman Sisters' to my childhood friends, from those I see every week, to those who see me a few times a decade, these men and women have all contributed into making me up nearly as much as the family that raised me.  I don't know where I'd be had these folks not crossed my path. 

A few of the gang from Strongman 2014.

We are only the first people to cross hers....

The Roadmap on my Skin

Late June 2015, 6 months pregnant

I've been lucky enough to have some great conversations with people at the gym lately. Like I've said before, I love my job, and with Strongman coming up quickly, I'm excited to see how my participating clients fare.

Nearly each person I meet considerately asks when I'm due (in about 3 weeks, for those curious) and how I'm feeling. My answer is usually something to the effect of, "Tired, excited, anxious, ready to be done being pregnant." And if they ask about my "birth plan", it's pretty simple. "Whatever gets everyone out of the hospital healthy." Sometimes I can imagine going all caveman and managing it all with minimal assistance, and other times I consider what it would feel like to be wheeled into an operating room for surgical help - and everything in between. I'm open to options. But the pre-admission paperwork is done and the hospital is ready for me and The Bean, so it looks like I won't need a cave after all.


One of the topics that almost always comes up is that I don't 'look that pregnant'. I'm not exactly sure what that means, since I remember my waistline looking more like this - well muscled and showing just the vaguest signs of firm definition underneath.

 But it's all this talk has made me come to a realization that I didn't expect -
I don't 'need' my old body back.  
In fact, I don't even think I 'want' it.


Here's what my 2 cents -
  We start off this world pretty prestine, for the most part. We may have birth marks or freckles, or spots, but those are the things that make us unique and distinguishable from everyone else in the world.  Me? I scar - badly - from everything.  My scars continue to outgrow the wounds that made them, regardless of treatments available on the market. I mean, seriously - I scratched the back of my hand 6 months ago a little too hard with my own fingernail - and the scar is already bigger than the scratch was.

  So, while I haven't gained any new stretch marks from carrying our daughter, I am sure this will leave its own mark on my skin. See, I've already been 255lbs in my lifetime, and I'm still well under that, so the stretch marks I gained from that experience have pretty much scarred over. I expected them to regain their color, but they haven't. See that 1/4 of an inch of extra skin at the bottom of my belly? I'm sure that will still be there - if not a little larger, when all this is over. Of course, if I end up getting surgical help, I'll no doubt have more scars to show for it.

  And I'll still wear a bikini when I want to. I figured out that, for me, getting my body 'back' isn't important. Now, that's not to say I'm not looking forward to getting into the best shape I can be in as a Mom - but I have no desire to 'reclaim' anything. Maybe that's because I don't see it as 'losing' anything... Becoming a parent, I didn't 'lose' anything. I gained a family member.  I know how to dial in my diet and I naturally keep active. The effects of that will be whatever body I end up with. I've met my goal of keeping my body fat added to a minimum, and I've been lucky enough to remain active (though I'm noticeably slowing down these days - spending more time in the pool and less time running and rowing). And I'm lucky enough to have married well - My Sailor finds something attractive even in my currently rounded state. (I just find it amusing that the clothes I wore YESTERDAY suddenly don't cover the belly THIS MORNING!)

  I do appreciate the reassurances that my body will bounce back quickly, but all in all -  I'm not too concerned about it. It will be what it is. Just as its always been.

Where the brain goes, the body follows.

We're just adding a few more lines to the map.

The Quick and Dirty Honest Update

The reason behind our Spokane Adventure - Lindsey Stirling!
She's an amazing contemporary violinist. Click Here to See one of my favorite songs.

As our last holiday as a twosome approaches, I figured it's about time for a photo heavy, short and sweet update. We've taken advantage of some of the time and snuck off for a quick overnight trip to Spokane. Neither of us have ever been to Eastern Washington, so it was a nice little get-away. We had gotten tickets months before for the Lindsey Stirling concert. It was completely worth it, even though we got seated next to someone who clearly belonged at a metal concert, rather than Pop violin music. Either way, it was totally worth it. I can't wait until more of the world sees this amazing talent.

The next day, we explored Riverfront Park, which was GORGEOUS.

And, in case you're wondering, yes, I am looking more and more pregnant, but it didn't stop me from getting in a good 5 miles or so around the city.  I couldn't have helped but think that my dad would have loved a trip like this - good food (we'd stopped at an Irish pub for dinner), great music, and a trip to a historic (beautiful) park and library. It would have been completely up his alley, and the thought of that made me smile. It eased some of the bittersweet feelings that sometimes creep up on me when I get to thinking too much about him missing out being a grandfather. But those thoughts are quickly remedied by remembering that he's not missing out. This is the adventure all of us were supposed to have - and it's perfect just the way it is.

 

A couple weeks later, we had some good fortune and ended up doing a quick trip to California, thanks to some frequent flier miles, a friend with a cabin, and some Disney Gift Cards I'd saved up for a rainy day.
 

Obligatory Pre-parade smooch

I wasn't sure what to expect from this trip, other than knowing that I wanted to see some of the 60th up close and personal - and My Sailor hadn't been to Disney in FAR too long. The funny thing was, it was actually kind of nice and relaxing. Sure, there were a few rides I didn't go on (lap belts and baby bumps don't mix), but we had a good time just soaking in the atmosphere. I was concerned about our shoestring budget, but ya know what? When I look back on this trip, I barely remember the cut backs we made. I remember going on the Haunted Mansion a few times - seeing the Hatbox Ghost up close and personal. I remember My Sailor getting his first set of Mouse ears, and watching the Paint the Night Parade a little overwhelmed by the thought that the next time I see a Disney Parade in person, it'll be with The Bean (on the outside, rather than the inside).  I'll remember the new World of Color and the way it was a fitting tribute to Walt.

As for everyday life, I'm still working out - and yes, it's all plenty safe.

The biggest challenges I've found with workout have come from overheating (hard not to do in the dead of summer - and the hottest, dryest summer Washington has seen in a long time) and low blood sugar. (Yes, my gestational diabetes test came back as clean as a whistle.) I've learned to sip at something sweet while I workout, and I keep a piece of fruit or two close at hand throughout the day. I take a few more rest days, but I'm still moving well, and that bodes well for me, The Bean, and recovery.




I went to a friend's baby shower - the first baby shower I didn't avoid. Some friends will be helping us out with throwing us a shower soon as well - which will ease some of the worry.

New parents always worry - so I expected that. Granted, it's nearly all financially based. See, Washington state doesn't have any temporary disability program for new mothers, and I work for myself, which means I can take as much leave as I want - if I'm willing to rebuild the business and/or take the financial hit. Since summer has been a bit of a slow season (which is awesome in some respects - ensuring I can physically get enough rest), it means I need to be back in the gyms training folks as soon as I can walk again. We're looking into places that offer daycare before 6 weeks of age. It'll be tricky, but ya know what? We're not the first people to figure it out. We won't be the last.

It's amazing the amount of judgement that comes with parenthood. And I'm sure we'll make our fair share of mistakes, but ya know, that's our journey - Mine, My Sailor's, and The Bean. In the end, every family does what works for them.

I'm hoping to be able to put together a 5 day trip to one of the Disney parks over the holidays, but we'll see how it all rolls out. For now, we're taking it one days a time.

And it's still good.