0 Birth is a good way to destroy your body

Earlier this week, I took a day off of work, drove the hour to Montrose for an MRI and went shopping at Target.

Yes, shopping at Target is just as exciting as an MRI. When you live in a small town, you get pretty damn excited about going to Target. Don't judge.

The MRI? Not so good. Bad, in fact. Almost depressing. Enough to make me want to cry. I've got the pubic symphysis issues, which we knew about but on top of that, I've got an SI joint that is completely out and torn  cartilage in my hips.

Yeah. I screamed a lot of obscenities. 

Lucky for me, my ortho is amazing. She even put my number in her cell phone so she could call me while she was on vacation. THAT would never happen in Portland.

Unluckily for me, rehab is going to take forever AND I have to stop breastfeeding.

I realize that breastfeeding and pelvic injuries seem completely unrelated but it turns out they are actually close friends. Breastfeeding increases relaxin in your body. Relaxin causes looseness in the joints which means no matter how many times the physical therapist puts the SI joint back in to place,  it will come back out again. And if the SI joint isn't stable, the pelvis won't be either.

Anyway. UUUUUUGGGGH. 

So...rehab is my life right now, along with wearing a super-cool-you-know-you-want-one belt to stabilize my pelvis and SI joint, quitting breastfeeding (which has, surprisingly, made me more upset than I thought I would be) and continuing to do nothing. Lots and lots of nothing.

Between my kids screaming on the bus to Crested Butte on a regular basis and this whole cluster, I am pretty sure I am the poster child for birth control. 

Evidence of me doing nothing: Hazel and I spent a sunny spring afternoon watching the skaters at the campus skate park (construction of the new athletic center is in the background).

Detail: Birth is a good way to destroy your body

0 BAAAAAAACK. Kind of.

Without further ado...

Yes, I "raced" my bike. Unfortunately, I cannot provide you a picture of me on the bike because Barkernews was busy chaperoning the kids at a birthday party and I'm too cheap to pay for a professional picture.

A lot of good things happened on the day this picture was taken. I finished the race. I rode almost everything, including the steep muddy uphill. I didn't puke. I laughed at the ridiculousness of riding my bike in 6-inch deep mud. I didn't get last in the Bs (ahem.), even though I had a baby 10 weeks prior.

It was pretty great. And it made me want more. Because next to last is never good enough.

I've got a long way to go. My top end is certainly missing. (Hello? Top end? Are you there? Where are you hiding? Can you come out and play?) Explosive power is noticeably absent. Endurance is still a joke.

You know what IS still around?

Determination. That I've got in abundance. And probably some craziness too.

So yeah. Maybe I didn't beat you. Maybe you passed me on the second lap, even though you're a C racer and started a minute behind me. Maybe I kind of sort of just a little walked those last barriers in the 6 pack (SIX PACK?! WTH?!).

But there's this: I did two cyclocross races in 2011 before injury forced me off the bike. I was pregnant for ten months, three of which were spent in "modified activity". I've been in some form of postpartum recovery for the past 11 weeks.

AND I STILL DIDN'T GET LAST.

Therefore, I say to no one in particular except maybe myself:

HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW???

Insert smiley face.

Detail: BAAAAAAACK. Kind of.

0 Sleep, recovery, patience, yadda yadda yadda

It's two steps forward, one step back around here these days. For one, we've got a very easy daytime baby who still insists on waking up every 3-4 hours at night. I know, I know...lots of you are probably saying, "What? Why are you complaining? Why, MY BABY..."

Here's why I am complaining: his sister woke up once a night by the time she was 6 weeks old. ONCE. And slept through the night at 10 weeks. And we're not talking about a 6-hour stretch of sleeping through the night. In my book, 6 hours is NOT sleeping through the night. That's a freaking cat nap. No, she slept a good 8-10 hours every night without waking until about 14 weeks. At that point, she slept a good 12 hours. Every night. Even while teething.

So you can see that poor Baby Tygh has a high standard to live up to. To help him reach this very high standard, we are extremely diligent about his 3-hour daytime routine (read The Baby Whisperer. Then you will understand). Because Mama needs sleep. Badly. I need 9 hours of sleep to be a nice person, 8 hours to be sort of humane to others. 7 hours if you want a very crabby but alive version of myself. Less than 7 and the weepiness will start.

Which is what happened almost 2 weeks ago. Tygh was waking up every 2 hours. That was so not working for me. One morning, I found myself on the couch crying from extreme lack of sleep and I called Barkernews at work. I practically shouted at him, "THIS IS NOT WORKING FOR ME! (sob, sniffle, sob) WE NEED A NEW PLAN! (sniffle, sniffle, sob) WE NEED A NEW PLAN NOW! (hiccup, sniffle, sob, sob)

(sob sob sob sniffle sniffle sniffle sniffle hiccup hiccup SOB)

So we got a new plan. New plan= Barkernews is on duty for half the night, during which he can feed Tygh a bottle of wine for all I care. And I get the second half, during which I will try to make sure Tygh gets actual milk, but he may not, depending on how I feel about it at 4am.

It's mostly working. I am getting more sleep. I don't know about Barkernews. I'm asleep during his shift. And Tygh has gone from 2-hour wake ups to 3-4 hour wake ups. Can I get a 5-hour stretch for 500, Alex?

Why does all this matter? It matters because I NEED TO TRAIN. And it's difficult for me to train on limited sleep. Screw that, it's difficult for me to recover from training on limited sleep.

On that note...training. Um, yeah. It turns out that when you tear your perineal muscle AND your kid arrives super fast with no time for aforementioned perineal muscle to slowly stretch and warm up, it takes a shit ton of time to recover. Yes, I am riding my bike. But then I have to take 2-3 days off because my perineal muscle is really pissed. So then I go to yoga. And that nagging muscle is pissed some more.

It's taking a looooooooooooooong time to come back. Which is irritating me to no end. And also boring me. I did power intervals on the computrainer last week and aside from the hot flashes (WTF?? As if pregnancy doesn't screw up your body enough, I now have to deal with postpartum hot flashes?? The universe is not on my side.), my legs felt fantastic.

The perineum? Not so much. Two more days off. *sigh*

Gentle Yoga felt- dare I say?- delicious. The perineum hated it. Two more days off for me.

Cross season is in full swing. Training for the road season has started. And I still can't ride my bike every day. Heck, I can't even work on my abs or lift weights.

But hey. At least the wet season has arrived and it's raining. I mean, there's that, right?


Example A of WE NEED SOME SLEEP. Barkernews falls asleep in his son's carseat:

Detail: Sleep, recovery, patience, yadda yadda yadda

0 THIS

Sunny October + maternity leave + (almost) recovered = 

Stay tuned for a post titled "Babies in Bike Trailers: Life is About Choices".

Detail: THIS

0 Activity

Slowly but surely, I have been working my way back. I know my baby is only 3 1/2 weeks old, but the couch is making me depressed and the impending rainy winter is freaking me out. I have to get out while I can, when I can. Also? The 6-pack abs will not be making a re-appearance on their own. 

While I am certainly not up to any ab work YET, I can work on my outlook by just getting outside. And getting my kid(s) outside. Because in this house? The kids HAVE to adapt to Mom and Dad's activities, not vice versa. (at least for now. One day, I may have to actually go to a soccer game or two. Ugh.)

Last week, Barkernews and I celebrated his last day of paternity leave with me by hiking to Upper McChord Creek Falls and Elowah Falls. We did almost exactly one more mile than we did the previous week. Progress? 

Progress!

Afterwards, I walked up the hill to yoga class. Granted, it was only Restorative Yoga, which is basically a nap you pay for, but still. I'll take it, especially the nap part.

(Dear universe: please let my baby gain weight so he will sleep longer at night. 6 lb. babies are LITTLE. Thanks. Love, Me.)

On Sunday, something big happened. I rode my bike!

Ok, ok, it was only a cruiser ride and it was only 7 miles.

But...PROGRESS. Pain-free progress, that is. Granted, the hula-hooping may not have been the best idea on Sunday, but the bike ride definitely was.

Tygh made it out for his first bike ride too. We start them young in this family. See: comment above regarding fitting in to Mom and Dad's activities.

Yesterday, I pulled the trailer myself, all the way up my #&%& hill and then some.

THAT may have induced *some* soreness, but the out-of-breath part felt GOOD.

It also left me wondering, how the hell am I going to pull TWO kids up the hill and all the way to daycare??

I will be super-powerful, I guess.

Or something like that.

Soon? Soon, I will try my road bike. And the 6-pack will come back. And my kid will sleep longer stretches at night. And I will race. And I will kick ass.

SOON.

Detail: Activity

0 Hike. Sorta.

Recovery has been kicking my ass. Second degree tearing is no joke, you guys. I had 3rd degree tearing with Hazel, but like an idiot, I did too much too soon after I had her and I paid for it.

This time, I am determined to prolong recovery in order to speed up my return to fitness. So I have been doing a lot of sitting. At some point though, sitting and looking at the beautiful sunshine without actually doing anything IN the beautiful sunshine gets to you and you have to get out.

Or, in my case, you have to walk up the hill to the local bar to have a drink. Which is what I did, exactly two weeks to the day that Tygh was born and the first day my doctor gave me permission to walk up the hill. 

Yes, I was sore later. But that cocktail was DELICIOUS.

The next day, Barkernews and I embarked on a short (2.5 mile) and easy (400 ft. elevation gain) hike to Ponytail Falls. Because I couldn't stand it anymore. 

We dropped the Hizz off at school because everyone knows that 4-year-olds hike even slower than postpartum women with perineal tears, and took off for the Gorge. 

It was slow (on purpose) but the company was fine and the views were beautiful. Tygh, on the other hand, could have cared less. That's the beauty of hiking with a baby- super portable and happy as can be in the Moby wrap.

It was a start. A very small start. As anxious as I am to return to riding, I will take what I can get for now. I am already plotting a hike (or two) for this week. Followed by a lot of sitting of course.

Detail: Hike. Sorta.

0 Helllllloooooooo pants that button!

We were at Kelley Point Park yesterday, enjoying the beautiful weather, when I was forced to approach another mom and apologize for Hazel's ridiculous behavior towards her daughter (4-year-olds who are no longer only children? That's a whole other blog post). The mom, who was overly generous in excusing Hazel's behavior, was 5 days past her due date. FIVE DAYS.

If that was me, I would have gone to my hospital, planted myself in Labor and Delivery, and refused to budge until someone, anyone, put some pitocin in me. I would call it the Occupy and Deliver Movement.

Point is, SO GLAD I AM NOT HER. 

She was not pleased that I still had another 5 days until my due date came around. Sorry, lady. Nothing I could do about THAT.

Back to the title of this blog post. 

That's me in that picture below! In pants THAT BUTTON! Nine days postpartum, I put on my pants and they fit. Granted, I hadn't even tried them on before that, given that I prefer yoga pants pretty much year-round anyway, but hey! Small victories! Woot woot!

Now, if only my parts would follow suit and heal a little quicker (2nd degree tearing is turning out to be just as unkind as 3rd degree tearing). I have been ordered by my doctor, who knows me too well, to not even TRY to walk up the hill next to my house until Tygh is 2 weeks old. Boo. It's still summer around here and nothing kills my soul like driving when I could be walking or biking.

Soon enough. Soon enough.

P.S. PANTS THAT BUTTON!!

P.P.S. Dear maternity clothes: I hope to see you again NEVER. 

Detail: Helllllloooooooo pants that button!

0 48 minutes

You can get a lot done in 48 minutes.

Cook dinner.

Create a week's worth of lesson plans.

Race a criterium or a cyclocross race.

Have a baby.

Yep. True story. Tygh Christopher Barker was born at 12:48am on Thursday, September 6th. Excuse me if I continue to focus on the time. It was a *bit* of a shock. And by *bit*, I mean a HELL OF A, HOLY CRAP THIS IS HAPPENING, OMG I MIGHT DIE kind of a shock.

As in, I might need counseling to recover from the whole event.

I mean, probably not, but you never know.

On Thursday morning at 12am on the dot, I woke up from a deep sleep to discover that my water had broken. This did not happen with Hazel. With Hazel, I casually strolled in to the hospital like I was going to the Hilton for a short stay. I was given pitocin. I was given an epidural. I napped and watched movies until it was time for her to be born. It was all very civilized and wonderful and elapsed time from beginning the pitocin to birth was 7 hours, give or take some minutes. 

Tygh is apparently not in to "civilized" or "calm". Within minutes of my water breaking, I was in an immense amount of pain. I am not quite sure how I made it down the two flights of stairs or how I managed to call a friend to come over NOW! PLEASE COME OVER RIGHT NOW! to watch Hazel. I don't even know how I managed to throw on clothes. I do know that at some point, Barkernews was getting desperate and he did mention just leaving Hazel at home, that SOMEONE would show up to watch her eventually. I did, rightfully, veto that idea just as our neighbor walked up and saved us.

Thus commenced a 75mph ride to the hospital in which I screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed. Barkernews told me later that he took the corners so fast, the Subaru was on two wheels. The pain was so blinding that it's difficult for me to remember the intricate details of the cornering part. 

I do remember this: about 2 miles from the hospital, I threw off my seatbelt. Barkernews asked me if I needed to push and I screamed, "YEEEEESSSSS!!" At which point, he probably threw up in his mouth.

At the hospital, Barkernews screeched up to the emergency room entrance, where two security guards manhandled me in to a wheelchair and I screamed a lot of obscenities. LOUDLY.

Turns out, Tygh was crowning upon our arrival at the hospital. There was no time for an epidural, despite Barkernews' pleas to "get some pain meds on board, STAT!" I made it to the Labor and Delivery floor, but just barely. I ended up delivering Tygh at 12:48am in my clothes, approximately 10 minutes after my doctor showed up. Due to the speed of labor, there was no time to insert an IV. Therefore, post-labor Vicodin took another 20-30 minutes to take effect. I felt every stitch, every pull, every push on my uterus. Due to adrenaline and shock, my body would not stop violently shaking. It was a pretty rough 2 hours post-delivery. 

In the end, I had my little 6lb. 3oz boy. WITH HAIR! (those of you who have watched Hazel grow up know she was hairless for the first two years of her life) But, WOW. I didn't realize it could happen the way it did. The nurses told me that a 48 minute labor means an extraordinarily painful labor because the body doesn't have time to gradually work in to it. They must be right, but I am not an expert since Hazel's birth was carefully managed from a pain standpoint.

Since last Thursday, a lot of women have expressed to me a desire for such a short labor. To which I replied (and continue to reply): No. You do NOT want a 48 minute labor! Trust me. No, really. TRUST ME.

Here's the thing that continues to surprise me: Barkernews NEVER freaked out. Not once. He drove hella fast, but he drove carefully. He never lost it. He was calm the entire time, despite seeing (and hearing) his wife scream bloody murder and in an immense amount of pain. He is a rock star. Seriously. Without him, I would have given birth in the Subaru, which I had JUST had detailed. How irritating would that have been? (Still. I would love to hear his full rendition of the story.)

Luckily, it happened in the hospital. Luckily, I had access to some amazing medical care. Luckily, everyone was healthy. Luckily, a 45 minute cyclocross race will seem SOOOOO fast after this experience.

Unluckily, I can't use the "this hurts too much" excuse any more when it comes to training. Bummer. 

For now, we in the Barker house are focused on recovery and relaxing. And looking at each other in amazement every time we talk about the experience, which I expect we will do for quite a while.

Moments after Tygh's birth. I may be wondering if I am dying.

HAIR! I have a baby with HAIR!

Um. What the? How did I get out of here so fast?

Surprised. Excited. Shell-shocked. Happy.

Hazel trepidatiously meets her little brother.

Family photo. We look sleep-deprived and high on pain meds because we, I mean I, am.

She held him for about 2 seconds and then she was over it. Welcome to a lifetime of sibling love/rivalry/love/rivalry, kid!

Tygh and the family at his first bike race at 4 days old.

Hanging out with Tygh, 4 days postpartum, at the cyclocross race.

Detail: 48 minutes

0 And then, something awesome happened

I got home from vacation and went to see my doc for my 34-week appointment. I fully expected to hear the words "bed rest", especially given the amount of recent contractions. And then I planned to foam at the mouth from craziness and cabin fever.

But no. I was wrong. I was released to "ride easy".

HALLE-FREAKING-LUJAH.

So guess what I did?

Yep, you got it.

I rode my bike. Every day that I could. Granted, on mostly flat roads (with the exception of the heinous hill that happens to be the start of EVERY ride from my house) and for an hour to an hour and a half. But I DID. NOT. CARE. 

I was riding my bike!! Wheeeeeeeeee!

Over about 5 days, I probably rode 60 or so miles. I didn't ride every day (most days were in the 16-18 mile range) but it's not bad for an 8 1/2 month pregnant lady. 

BAM! Happy summer to me!

Detail: And then, something awesome happened

0 Adventures in pretty much nothing.

I looked over the pictures from the summer so far. We have camped a lot. We have hung out on lawns and farms and listened to music. We have enrolled our 3-year-old in a whole lot of kiddie bike races. What is noticeably absent from all of my pictures?

My bike.

*SIGH*

It has now been 4 weeks of modified activity and I FEEL it. I am more tired, more irritable (more than normal anyway) and my body hurts from lack of movement. My fuse is short. I am sluggish. I haven't gained any more weight because I have no appetite and therefore no desire to eat. (I am not a bored eater. I rarely eat just to eat.)

I joked to my OB that she is going to put me in the mental hospital. She told me she would come visit me and maybe even bring me flowers.

HA HA.

All of that aside, I am trying my damnedest to make the most of what I am calling Sedentary Summer '12. We've been camping and beach-going and sun-seeking and "fishing". And I am counting down the weeks until I hit the magical number of 37, at which point I plan to ride my bike, no matter the consequences on my nether regions. I am even go on a long walk (GASP!) and take a yoga class (HORROR!).

Six more weeks. Six more weeks. Six more weeks.

Until that time, I will go on vacation with my family for two weeks. I will sit in my zero-gravity chair and I will float in my raft and I will read a ton of books and I will eat s'mores. And I will be patient. Very, very patient.

Detail: Adventures in pretty much nothing.

0 Here I sit...

Three weeks ago, I was in the middle of a routine ultrasound when I saw some odd numbers and I knew immediately that I wasn't going home right away. Being a non-freaker-outer, I just figured I would have a little consult with the doctor and be out the door.

Not so much. Turns out EVERYONE freaks out (except for me) when the numbers aren't normal. I ended up strapped to all kinds of machines, consulting with the high-risk OB, getting my cervix fondled and hearing the dreaded words "modified activity". 

Which is what I have been on for the last three weeks. Doctors are reluctant to give a definitive answer as to what exactly "modified activity" is, probably due to liability. They weren't so reluctant, however, to give me a list of NOs:

No cycling

No running

No walking

No weightlifting

No swimming

No yoga (seriously?!)

No laundry (such a bummer, really)

I am just supposed to sit on my butt and...get fat? be bored? go crazy? keep my baby out of the NICU?

Oh right. That IS the ultimate goal and it is a worthwhile one. 

I respect that goal. That is a goal I can get behind. 

Except it may be one of my most difficult goals yet. I was unflaggingly positive for the first week. The second week, I was still hanging in there. Then I had a meltdown. My body hurt from lack of exercise. I had had no time alone. I was tired all day. I lost my appetite. I slept worse. And I missed myself.

I realized that my time on a bike or in a pool or even in yoga? That's when I work things out in my brain, discuss things with myself, come up with my best ideas. It's also an escape. I have a specific number I need to reach, whether it's a time goal or power goal. I can focus on me and what I need to do to become better. It's a huge part of my identity and I feel a little lost without it. 

Last week, I was told, "modified activity for the duration". As in, no training until after September. I hung my head. And nodded in compliance. A healthy baby is worth it. I can't argue with the numbers and the numbers show that my cervix is bound and determined to betray me.

Luckily, the Tour is on. Luckily, my kid is enrolled in day camp. Luckily, we have a two-week road trip planned at the end of the month. Luckily, I love to read.

I can do this. I will not go crazy. I will not drive my loved ones crazy. The end result will be worth it. 

Really.

7+ months at the cabin in Central Washington. Not to worry. Right after this picture, I sat down. I swear.

Detail: Here I sit...

0 I will OWN 2013.

Remember that post about big post about 2012 goals?

Let's just say I plan to "delay" those goals a bit due to a little something I like to call "Barker Baby II: The Raddening". (naming rights go to Mike Kurfis. Well done, Mike. Well done.)

In the meantime, I plan to continue training through the nausea, the fatigue and the general feeling that there is an invader in my body, slowly plotting on destroying my 6-pack abs.  As I write this, I am on the last full day of a 7-day training camp in Arizona. While I am obviously out of the running for the 2012 racing season, I am pretty damn focused on coming back better and stronger in 2013.  It's been a 250-mile week on the bike. They many not have been the fastest, hardest miles I have ever put in, but they were infused with Vitamin D, good friends and great scenery. And possibly some dry heaving sessions.

Honestly, you guys, I am so freaking excited about Barker Baby II: The Raddening. I already have one bike racing, skiing, dancing freak of a 3-year-old. The next one will be just as great in his or her own way, I am sure of it.

And you know I am eyeing those three months of maternity leave with big training plans.

Watch out, 2013. You are ALL MINE.

Detail: I will OWN 2013.