Ah blessed health…

My friends. I am feeling healthy. At last!  I have not had to contend with morning sickness (other then mild nausea from time to time) for over a week now,  I believe. And the allergies are not making me quite as crazy (thanks Benadryl!) It makes me so happy.  I try not to take my health for granted anyway, but after months of feeling truly awful almost all of the time, I realise that I did..so much more then I knew.
Because my former energy level is returning (oh blessed day!) I decided today that I needed to really channel that energy and balance the fact that my appetite is also back with a vengeance (and with it a distinctly pregnant appearance in areas which do not house a baby), and so my workout at the gym was more focused then it has been while I was feeling not my finest.  I really have tried to exercise as consistently as possible on the days when I was able to leave my bed but it’s been a much lower key regime then I am used to and it feels so good to be “back” in a manner of speaking.
By the way, speaking of being “back” the gym is awkward these days. I want to to wear a T-shirt that says “I’m PREGNANT” because especially in gym clothes I look just…well as if I have not been to the gym for 4 months…and  to make it worse…there I stand telling someone who appears to be in far better shape then I am what to do.  (You can just imagine those who don’t know what’s going on wondering, “why does the skinny one let the fat one tell her what to do? ”) ANYWAY…my vanity aside, I don’t want to put on an unhealthy amount of weight because well…that’s unhealthy and I also know that sweating keeps me sane.
So I worked out with focus today, I jogged a couple of miles, I did all the push-ups, the dips, the weights, the squats instead of just the things I felt like doing. I left feeling healthy and virtuous and sweatily well worked out.  I decided that I had done plenty for one pregnant girl for the day. I looked forward to tackling the grubby house.
Then I arrived at said grubby house and realised the dog needed to be taken for a walk. She had not been for 2 days and so she was due for a good one.   I decided to take a nice leisurely paced stroll down the trail. The trail was gorgeous today. Simply stunning with changing leaves, a crisp wind, bright blue sky…it was Autumnal perfection. We walked at as leisurely a clip as a young Golden Retriever who has been cooped up for 2 days and is now surrounded by taunting squirrels will allow for…it was sublime. I didn’t feel pregnant at all. I had just commented on this fact to myself and wondered how long this lovely reprieve would last…
And then.  1.5 miles in (which meant, 1.5 miles to get back  home) my bladder woke up and whined.  I NEED TO GO POTTY! Right. NOW! 
Now. I am very proud of my generally superior bladder control especially considering the number of babies who have bounced on said bladder (including one 9+ lber) but pride cometh before the fall, and it suddenly appeared to be the bladder of a stranger. Or perhaps my daughter (who seems to have the bladder the size of a lentil).  I tried every mind game I could to distract myself of the urgent need for a loo.  I focused on the pretty leaves, my mellow music…nothing worked. Then I started to scope out areas for emergency squatting. But the trail is well traveled and this is a small town so that plan was quickly discarded….all the while, my pace was increasing steadily.  By the time I had a half a mile to go I was in a brisk jog. With a quarter mile to go, I was in a flat out sprint and my mind was moving just as fast to figure out emergency contingency plans. I figured that instead of going to my front door, I would cut through the alley which was far more likely to be deserted in the unfortunate event of an accident (which was feeling ever more imminent).  This genius plan in mind I cut down the alley and immediately came face to face with a dad from soccer. And a neighbour (also a male) who were parked back there contemplating some construction. I sprinted past them  praying that if things should not go my way, they were unobservant or just thought I was a particularly vigorous perspirer….
FINALLY I got to my back door. The dog and I burst through it, she frantically headed for her water bowl. I to the loo. We made it.  I heaved a grateful sigh of relief. And wouldn’t you know…barely a trickle. The wicked, deceptive bladder of a pregnant woman.
And now I am rather tired. I feel like I should like to lie around and eat a hamburger instead of tackling the mountains of clean laundry that need to be folded and put away (my most hated task).  It seems a bit sad to have wasted so much of my newfound energy on a sprint to the toilet.
On the other hand I feel like I may have invented a new revolution in fitness…Full Bladder Training. What do you think? Few things are more motivating, that’s for sure.

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biguglymandoll said...

"The wicked, deceptive bladder of a pregnant woman" reminds me of a saying my neighbors have - "The liver is bad, and must be punished!" In the unlikely event you ever take up recreational drinking, your bladder at least will appreciate some new organ drawing fire for your wrath. ;-)

Also, "Full Bladder Training" = genius! Combined with my Yoga With Beer regimen, we shall take over the fitness world - it shall be magnificent!