Pregnancy exercise: a review.

In honor of everybody else's New Year's resolutions, I stayed away from the YMCA for a week.  Last night for Milo's swim lesson we found a parking spot, so perhaps it's already slowed down, or perhaps the fresh snow kept the crowds down, or perhaps the resolution people are on a MWF schedule.

I took a leisurely half-hour swim (baby went nuts when I tried breaststroke, so I stuck with front crawl) and reflected on the first-ever experience of regularly exercising through my whole pregnancy.

Over the 14 or 15 months before getting pregnant, I had worked up to a solid 3x/week gym routine of two swims and one treadmill run per week.  One visit during a school day, the kids staying in the child care; one visit on the weekend; and one whole-family visit in the evening with Mark, often on swim lesson night.   My fitness level was probably the best it's ever been.  I have visible swimmer's muscles in my arms and back now and have probably more upper body strength than I've ever had, including when I was lifting weights (which are not nearly as much fun as swimming).  I ran my first 5K just before getting pregnant (28:24) and my second 5K right after finding out I was pregnant (28:27).  

When I got pregnant, remembering the exhaustion of first trimester, I resolved that whatever else happened, I would at least show up at the gym those three times a week.  If I had to drag myself up the stairs on all fours, I'd still get in the water twice a week, I'd still step on the treadmill.  Then if I wanted to get right back out of the pool and spend 40 minutes in the hot shower instead, I could; if I wanted to spend my whole "run" walking at 1.5 mph while watching a syndicated Simpsons episode on the little treadmill TV, I could.  But I would keep getting into that pool.  I would keep stepping onto the treadmill.  Every week.  I thought:  If nothing else, I will keep the "going to the gym" habit.

I did better than that, though.  The exercise tended to knock me out -- I usually needed a nap afterwards if it wasn't already bedtime -- but I had enough energy to complete the workout, and it usually felt great.  I remember a few times when it felt like swimming through syrup, but not more than a few.

I found some honest-to-goodness technical workout clothes cut for pregnancy.  Not so lucky with the swimsuit:  there being no good maternity swimsuits anywhere, I went for my first two-piece.  Let me tell you something.  When you let the naked belly hang out, it multiplies the "Wow!  You must be due soon!" frequency by about fifteen.  At first I felt extremely exposed, but after a while I got used to it.  The bottom of the two-piece is starting to feel a little small by now, though, so I try to get into the water before too many people can see me.  I'm not about to buy another one with 3 weeks to go.

I kept running until about 23 or 24 weeks, when the jostling got too hard on my belly.  Switched to a fast walk with the incline turned up.  From time to time I would have a session where I couldn't go fast at all -- I waddled two miles an hour, telling myself I was exercising my habit at least, and that the weight-bearing exercise would be good for my pelvic floor, hips and spine.  Other times I felt almost ready to run again and had to hold myself back from trying.  

I look forward to my exercise sessions now maybe more than ever.  "Running" is still what I call it, what I do on the treadmill, though by now entirely inaccurate.  I put on the headphones and let everything else disappear; if something starts to hurt, I turn it down, if I'm feeling good and untaxed, I turn it up.  The pool is heaven:  I can't just jump in anymore, have to wade down the ramp into the shallow end, and the feeling as the water embraces me at the waist and lifts the burden from my back and hips... mmm.   Getting out isn't quite so great:  wading back up the way I came, I almost sob when I come up out of the water and the belly hangs dripping from my frame again; but there's that hot, powerful, institutional shower to look forward to, and I enjoy every minute of that, let me tell you.  I stand under the water, curtained away, and feel the baby shift and react, maybe to the rain-on-the-roof sound of the shower pounding down on my belly, maybe to the change in my posture as I turn and feel the heat on my muscles.  He knows something's going on out there.

Sometimes, stroking across the pool, looking out the window-wall in front of the treadmill at the gathering darkness, I try to figure out how we're going to keep this happening after the baby comes.  They won't let me use the treadmill with the baby in a sling, and of course swimming is impossible.  I mentally juggle our schedule, consider the other children's swim lessons, try to remember how Mark and I managed it each time we had a child who wouldn't stay in the YMCA child care.  We took turns, then:  I had my half-hour, he had his half-hour, one of us stayed with the kids in the "kids' gym."  I guess we'll do that again.  Maybe Mark will sit by the pool and hold the baby while I swim, staying near in case the baby needs to nurse.  Maybe I will walk on the track with the baby in the sling, on the days I go to the Y in the middle of the day.  Eventually I stop trying to figure it out.  We will see when we get there.  

I have gained 40 pounds in this pregnancy.  This is on par with what I have gained in previous pregnancies; it is exactly the weight I lost in 2008.  It seems strange to see that old number in a new context, and to reflect on the difference between carrying a baby, and just carrying around more of myself.   I'd be lying if I wrote I wasn't really curious what the number will be six weeks after I give birth.  And I'm curious, too, about what I will be doing when I get to the gym, those first few times with new babe in tow.

Comments

[Christy P]

I think that you need a modification of the 'Mark by the side of the pool plan' that substitutes one responsible older (likely homeschooler so that s/he is available during the day)child/teen wearing the baby in a sling on the pool deck while s/he interacts with the baby or more likely reads while the baby naps happily in the cozy sling on the warm pool deck.

I'm almost 7 months pp, and frankly, I haven't even considered running yet because I haven't found a sports bra that fits well enough to support my nursing breasts without putting me in serious danger of plugged ducts. Therefore I ride a bike. Although today I walked briskly on an incline.

[bearing]

I suppose I could get Oscar to do it. That seems like the sort of job that would be worth paying him for.

Re: nursing bra, I'm going to try the Fiona Bra by Moving Comfort to start. Straps unhook in the front, no underwire, and rated for heavy impact. But I won't know whether it works until I've tried it (that's the annoying thing about sports bras.)

[Celeste]

I really liked reading your reflections here--thanks for sharing them. I'm going to have to write up something similar for myself. I have found that working out while pregnant has really been a complex and sometimes emotional experience, surprisingly. I know that sounds rather strange! It's something about the connection between pushing my body and listening to my body, I think. Anyway, I sense something similar in your write-up here. Very motivating!