If I knew then

If I knew then what I know now, I probably would’ve been able to breathe a little better.  I probably wouldn’t have cried so many times.  I probably wouldn’t have doubted myself so much.  I probably wouldn’t have wondered if I was ever going to feel happy again.  I probably would’ve tried harder to just enjoy the adventure, the craziness, the newness that comes with having a new baby.  After only three and a half months since our little Deacus was born, I have a hard time remembering the nervous, unhappy, exhausted, insecure new mom that I was then.  She is a distant memory.  None of those are describing words that I’m proud to have been.  But I am proud to have overcome them.  The wonderful moms I spoke with back then were right when they told me “It will get better”.  In my heart I didn’t believe it, but I wanted so badly for them to be right.  They definitely were.

If I could’ve told my old self anything, and could share anything with new or expectant moms, it would be this:  Relax!  I know, It’s nearly impossible to do, but try.  I promise, you will feel like yourself again.  Maybe not the exact same self you used to be, but a new improved you who happily balances being a mom and an individual.  No, things aren’t always easy, but you will find your new “normal”.  And yes – you will sleep again!  (hopefully sooner than later!)  Time goes by so quickly, so try and cherish it.  So many people told me that along the way, and I would politely smile and think “I friggen hope so, I am going crazy and I’m exhausted”!  But they were right.  I blinked, and my baby boy had grown and changed so much already.  The haze does lift, and suddenly the exhaustion is replaced with overwhelming love and enjoyment.  We stress about so many things, especially as first time moms (and dads).  That’s ok, and normal, it comes with the job.  Just know that all the little struggles that seem earth shattering at the time, eventually go away.  He will eventually sleep in his crib.  He will eventually sleep more than an hour a night.  He is eating enough.  He is happy and healthy and knows he is loved.  Then out of nowhere, he will start to smile, and even giggle, and it will be one of the best moments of your life.  He will start to show you he loves you, and it will melt your heart.  You will love him more than anything.  That unconditional, “If anything ever happened to him I don’t know what I’d do” kind of love.  The love you always dreamed you’d have for your child.  Some of us feel this way instantly, some of us take a little longer.  Don’t feel bad for whichever category you fall into.

Things will never be as they were before having a baby.  The idea of “free time” no longer exisits, and probably wont for about 18 more years or so.  There is no greater sacrifice – Yes, it is a sacrifice.  For a period of time we give up our body, our time, our sleep, our sanity, our independance.  But in my opinion, there is nothing more rewarding.  Every day I watch this little human grow and change right before my eyes.  It is surreal some days to realize that I helped create that life, and help to shape him every day.  It is a great responsibility (as in HUGE).  And I am glad I have been blessed enough to get to take it on.  If I had known then what I know now, I’d have told myself that this journey will be nothing like you imagined it would be.  It will be harder.  It will be better.

Thank you to my husband and the women who stood by me as I found my way, and discovered what they knew all along.  And to my little Deacus, (who with the wonders of modern technology will probably read this someday), I am so grateful that you are in my life, and so proud to be your momma!  Thank you for the smiles that light up my days and remind me what is really important in life.  You are so loved!

Enjoy the climb

I had stared down that empty country road many times.  I could barely remember what it looked like beyond the stop sign where I used to turn.  I hadn’t been down that road in a while, about 11 months in fact.  I tried to be positive, but inside my head I kept wondering if I would ever make it that far again.  Yesterday, only a few minutes after blogging about my fitness struggles, I laced up my running shoes again and hit the road.  Deacus was enjoying a visit with a friend (Thank you Taunya!!), and I was off to attempt another 7km.  I looked down at the ground for most of the run, dodging rocks and bugs, convincing myself it was only a little bit further.  A few km’s in, to my shock, I felt good.  I felt a glimmer of what I used to feel when I’d run.  Tired, but strong.  The wind was at my back (literally), and I felt as though I was physically being given that push I needed mentally.  I looked down at my Garmin (my trusty, yet quite old GPS watch that I couldn`t live without), checking my pace and time every couple minutes.  I could hardly believe it when I hit the 4km mark, turned at that stop sign that I hadn’t made it to in so long, and kept running.  It was at that moment when I decided today is the day!  I am doing it!  That hill that I had struggled with so many times, suddenly didn`t seem so big.  A challenging, but bearable 5km more and I was back home.  I did it!  10km!!  This 10km consisted of 1hr 8 minutes consecutive running, followed by a 4 minute walk then 9 more minutes of running.  Yes, it took me 1hr 21 minutes.  I have a lot of room for improvement, but I am proud to be able to say that I did it!  12 weeks since my sons birth, and 6 weeks into my training, I ran my first 10km!  I really didn’t think I could do it until I got out there and proved it (to myself).  I had lost the confidence I used to have.  I had been trying to stay positive, and be patient with myself and my new body.  But deep down, the fat girl inside me was telling me my body and confidence were gone forever and that a 10k run was too much for me.  I believed I was weaker now – physically and mentally.  Boy was I wrong.  The minute I started to believe in myself again, my outlook and progress changed – instantly.  As I ran, I just put one foot in front of the other, and told myself quitting wasn’t an option.  I began to feel such a feeling of accomplishment.  For the first time in a long time, I was proud of myself and the person I was working toward becoming.  I couldn’t wait to tell my husband and have him give me a high five and say “good job”.  Knowing that on inside he`d be glowing with pride.  Besides myself, he is the only other person who I know would really understand and appreciate what I had just done, and what it meant to me.  I vowed to him while I was pregnant that I would not be an out of shape wife and mother, and I felt good that I was on my way to keeping that promise.  I believe I am a better wife and mother and a happier person when I am fit, and my son and husband deserve that woman.  I deserve to be that woman!  This would be one of the most difficult, but more rewarding journey’s of my life.

I immediately think of the amazing ladies who have come before me and set the bar so high.  I am proud to know you, and hope to someday join you up there.  I’m up for the challenge.  It wouldn’t be that fun to be at the top of the mountain all the time anyways, would it?  Ok – maybe it would be a little fun.  But for now I’m going to give myself credit for what I’ve accomplished so far, and enjoy the climb.  To Victoria, a certain mom I know who recently ran 10km in 48 minutes, wow!  You inspire me, and push me to be better.  I hope to someday run beside you.

My weekly appointment with the dreaded scale

Thursday marked Deacus’ 12th week of life, and my 6th week of working out post c-section.  My progress has been ok, but I am nowhere near where I expected to be.  Somehow I dreamed my body wouldn’t mind the 9+ months of torture it had endured, and would cooperate when I told it to run 10km.  Pre-baby, I didn’t have a running plan.  I was relatively fit from exercising and running 5km or so regularly, and just decided one morning to try 10km – and I did it.  I wasn’t fast, but I did it without much trouble, and continued to run it often and increase my time from there.  Don’t get me wrong, it was hard, but I was able to physically do it.  It was more of a mental challenge.  These days my mental strength cannot mask the pain in my knees and the extra weight I’m carrying prevents my body from doing as it’s told.  I can push it, (and I do!) but only so far.  It is tough to feel so restricted by my own body, and to have lost the freedom to be in charge.  I will get back to where I was (won’t I?), but right now this is the body I have to work with.  This morning I stepped on the scale to see how I was progressing, hoping my track pants might start to fit a little less snug, and that my knees may have a little less to carry on my next run.  Or dare I wish I might even get into a pair of jeans again!  Most days I’m just glad the scale doesn’t just call me a fatso and tell me to get off!  So, how much of those 93 lbs had I shed in 6 weeks?  The scale beeped at me and gave me the good news.  I am officially down 57lbs.  Today was a good day.  With 36lbs to go, I might just get into jeans and even put on heels again at some point in the next few months!  With visions of the tiny stilettos snapping off from under me, I didn’t want to risk heels until I was closer to my goal weight.  Suddenly I found myself thinking of how the average woman gains around 35lbs total during pregnancy.  TOTAL.  I still have enough extra weight to be carrying a small child inside of me.  With 2 weeks until the 10km, and me still being 3km away from that goal, I had to put these thoughts out of my mind and hit the pavement.   Pre-baby I remember thinking I’d gain a lot of weight (I know myself and my body well!) but that I’d get back in shape fast.  What else would I have to do, right?  I could workout every day since I’d have all the time in the world.  WRONG!  Any mommy knows one of the biggest challenges is finding the time to workout.  After sleepless nights, and days that don’t ever really end, if I manage to muster up the motivation to exercise, now I have to figure out what to do with the little guy.  He’s a well behaved baby, but that doesn’t mean he is going to allow me to leave him on his playmat for more than 10 minutes that day.  So I can try interval training at home – 10 min run, 1 min insert soother back in baby’s mouth, and repeat.  My next option is leaving him with the gym’s childcare – a 17 year old girl who’s probably never even held a 3 month old, or has any interest to, (but for $10.50/hr. will do it).  No offence to the staff at the gym, I am sure they are lovely.  I have yet to even be to the gym since having Deacus, but this is how I picture it and it terrifies me to leave him there.  He still seems so little and fragile.  Where has my independance gone?  The days of getting up and going anywhere I wanted to, at any hour, are long gone!  Any outting now requires a jumbo sized duffle bag with all the goodies a 3 month old should need over the course of a few hours.  Including lots of diapers and changes of clothes in case we have any explosions (and we have many!).  I can see how fitness sometimes takes a backseat after children.  Even though it’s a time when fitness should be in the forefront.  I want to set an example for him.  I want to live a long, healthy life, and have the energy to be an active mom to my boy.  But sometimes it feels impossible.  Luckily, today I  have a friend who is kind enough to come all the way to my house and watch the little man while I get in some much needed exercise.  As hard as running is for me, I am beginning to enjoy my time on the road again.  Every part of my body hurts as I work towards getting my body back, and actually being able to complete a run without feeling the dreaded “out of shape pain”.  But while I’m out there I have time to think (and write my next blog in my head), and have some time for Shannon.  I love being a mom to Deacus, and I love being a wife to Nick.  But sometimes I need to just be Shannon.  For me, running helps me find her.  The girl I thought I lost a few short months ago.  The happy, healthy girl, full of energy who can look in the mirror without feeling ashamed of what’s staring back at her.  She’s still in there – somewhere.  And I believe one of these days, maybe on a long run in the middle of nowhere, I’ll find here and bring her back with me.  Until then, I will keep running, give myself some credit for my progress so far, and tell myself what I tell Deacus when we have a rough day of crying fits and no sleep.  It’s ok – tomorrow will be better!