Tough Mudder Whistler: It Was Nice Knowing You All

So... yeah.

I am not fit.
I am fat.
I have no muscle tone.
I get dizzy walking up the stairs.
I had surgery in February that resulted in nerve damage in my abdomen.
It hurts to lift things and carry things and I'm not supposed to exercise using my ab muscles.

Oh... and I signed up for Tough Mudder Whistler.

I paid my non-refundable $160ish before I had my follow up with the surgeon. It goes without saying that I didn't quite expect the news he delivered to me.

Since signing up, I've seen the course profile. It is, in a word, terrifying. In several words, it's holy shit what I have I done I'm pretty sure I won't live to see my baby again.

Um, hi 16km mark. W.T.F.!?!???!??!

Look at his face. Now imagine what his balls must look like.

I wanted a challenge. My other Mama friends had decided to give 'er a go, so I thought it would be an excellent goal to work towards. A reason to run some of this baby fat off my frame. I'm not saying that I weigh only 10 pounds less than when I was 8 months pregnant, and I'm not saying that I still mix in maternity pieces into my wardrobe... I'm just saying that not being able to use my abs, coupled with all the health issues in the past 18 months, has rendered me quite... {{soft}}.

What's the big deal, you ask? Well, there are also obstacles along the course. So, barring the fact that my current treadmill record is 5.2km and 19km will likely kill me, all along the route energy will be expended doing things like swimming through a massive container of ice water (the "arctic enema"), getting electrocuted ("electroshock therapy"), and having to crawl facing the sky, in water, breathing through chain link fence. Seriously.

This is f*cking terrifying.

I actually lose sleep at night over it when I think about it. I really want to accomplish something that says I am strong again. My body works again. I can push past the obstacles, both physical and mental. And, you know, likely not walk right or be able to lift the baby up for the next two weeks as I recover in an ever-refilling bath of epsom salts while drinking some malbec straight out of the bottle. #ClassyMom.

You can bet your ass it's going to make an awesome blog post, even if it's "Hey, our car broke down on the way", or "I twisted my ankle putting my shoes on at the start line"... but still.

Anyone ever completed a Tough Mudder race? Tough Mudder Whistler? I'm mostly excited about bunking in a condo with two other couples and their babies. I'd say my priorities are in order, no?

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The Queen of Farts?

Whenever I'm feeling particularly gross about my body, I just think about Kate Middleton, aka Duchess Kate blowing a huge fart into her hand, running over to Prince William, and cup-a-farting that baby into his face.

In my mind, she then skips away, laughing maniacally. Not sure if he refers to her as Babykins in a situation like that or not.

Then, I feel a teeeeensy bit better about things.

I mean, everyone poops, but if royalty cup-a-farts, then all is not lost.


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The Frustration Continues...

I have wanted to write this post for a while... and then on Tuesday I was given more depressing news.

Since I found out I was pregnant, I have essentially been unwell. That puts me at 17 months of dealing with one or more health issues or infections.

If you have read this blog, you know that my pregnancy was tough. There were some bad times. Some scary times. Twice I thought that I had lost my girl, and I thought she was stillborn in addition to those times. I could write a long, detailed experience of each one, but I kind of feel that overall... well, that no one really gives a shit. I know people have encouraging words, and I know the people that read this don't wish bad things on me... but no one likes to read about downers.

Having said that, I apologize for this post.

But I have cried myself to sleep for the last 5 nights. Am I lucky to have what I have? Yes. Could things be worse? Why, you're damn straight they could, I should be blissfully grateful for all the wonderful people, experiences and things I have. But my reality is trying sometimes. I know that people overcome far more, and are so much stronger and so much more capable.

But it seems there is only so much I can handle. So much I can take. So I am going to list, in point form, all the shit I have been dealing with since I found out I was pregnant in October 2012.

Fun? No. Funny? Not this time. I'm quite sure no one will WANT to read this, but I need to do it for me. It feels like the only way to get it off my chest.

October 2012 - Discovered I was pregnant. Basically had symptoms of Mono, as well as a sinus/chest infection and a cold.

November 2012 - Excruciating pain, call to 911, ambulance ride, talk of ectopic pregnancy, forced morphine despite pregnancy, being told to shut up and "keep it down" by the ER doc. Finally diagnosed with a hernia in my gut. Finally heard that the baby's heart was beating okay.

December 2012 - Bleeding. Cramping. Visit to the doctor where she essentially told me to expect the worst. A day of waiting for my emergency ultrasound appointment, as I tried to accept the fact that my baby had probably died. Finally got in there for the scan. Was kind of in shock when the technician told me the baby was fine. Such a relief. It actually took me a few days to accept that she was alive and well.

January 2013 - May 2013 - Extreme nausea. Vomiting. Fatigue. Back pain. Hip pain. Inability to sleep. Bleeding from so many places. Serious discomfort. People telling me to get out and be active, while I could barely climb stairs or find the strength to throat punch them as required.

May 2013 - Traumatic birth of my baby girl (she is okay).

June 2013 - 10 days after she was born, I was still experiencing excruciating pain. TMI DISCLAIMER: After a trip to the ER on my birthday, and a brush off from the doctor, I had a follow up ultrasound the next day. Shit was WRONG. Baby and Hubby were at home. I had just come from our family portraits at Sears. I was told to head back to the ER immediately as there was still baby leftovers in me.

After waiting about 6 hours, I had to call the on-call OB-GYN. Otherwise I have no idea how much longer I'd have waited. I didn't bring a breast pump. I didn't have my baby. But my body was still HALFWAY DILATED to birthing with what was going on. I was admitted. There's more to the story, but I needed surgery.

June & July 2013 - Infection in my uterus, boobs, and more. Lots of pain meds and antibiotics.

August 2013 - More boob issues. So many nursing issues, they deserve their own post. A month-long unidentified bladder infection that my old OB claimed to have left me voicemail about (she was so so so lying).

September 2013 - Poor OB care and another uterine infection. My fallopian tube was ready to burst. Severe infection requiring twice daily IV antibiotic therapy in-hospital. Trip home cancelled to introduce my baby to family because I was so weak I couldn't even do stairs. More pain meds. Overall, 8 antibiotics administered over a 3 week period.

*All this time, I STILL wasn't supposed to be using my abdominal muscles because my hernia would pop out and be very uncomfortable*

October & November 2013 - More infections. More pills. More tears. Milk supply issues as always, still sore nipples, still pumping, still fighting for it.

I don't even remember December 2013 and January 2014, but I know there were many dizzy spells, still no use of my abs, no way to really get active and back in shape. Trapped, frustrated, unwell.

February 2014 - Belly hernia "day" surgery. Was supposed to go home at 5:30pm. Doctor ended up using mesh to repair two separate areas. My abs were totally wrecked from the pregnancy. When I woke up, I was in some of the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. I was admitted and doped up for 4 days. It was awful. More pain meds.

March 2014 - Signed up for a tough obstacle course with the Hubs and other mamma friends. Hoped to train hard upon surgery recovery, FINALLY. Still had sooo much pain to the left of the scarring and repair areas. Surgeon informed me this week that it is most likely nerve damage from the local freezing needles they used before surgery. That it may take months to heal, or may never heal. That I still can't use my abs, that the repair areas are full of "an impressive amount" of scar tissue, and that it will also take months for that area to regulate and not be sore every time my daughter's foot brushes against my gut. That I shouldn't do the race. That I can't do ab exercises. That pushing through the pain will not be helpful. And that I will likely need cortisone shots in my stomach to help alleviate the constant pain.

Now, I've left a lot of stuff out. This is the Cliffs notes. I know it could be so much worse, but I am so tired of being in pain EVERY SINGLE DAY. I can't walk the dog. It hurts to carry and lift the baby. I can't EXERCISE HARD and start to lose weight and feel healthy again. My body hates me. I don't know what to do next.

What do you tell yourself when you feel defeated? How do you push through when the days are long, and they hurt?


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