I refuse to let my triceps go the way of the flabby wing. Today I began my new fitness routine, which is faaaar different than any other I’ve ever had, mostly because I’m suddenly a wuss. Last time I was pregnant, I was jogging a few miles and swimming a few laps nearly everyday. When I got pregnant this time, I had been jogging several miles with Isaiah in the jogging stroller. But this came to a hault after the tornadoes. I think I was emotionally drained long enough for morning sickness to kick in, and then I was just a goner. By now, whew, I think this baby has taken all my strength except for what would be necessary for a 90-year-old on a grocery errand. Nevertheless, I have decided that at least the habit of going to the gym is alone worth it. If I can come out of this pregnancy without the 50 pounds I put on with Isaiah, and by some miracle have developed some muscle tone, then mission accomplished. Also, if I can get my thyroid to revive itself (I’m on my 3rd round of homeopathics and it’s still not up to par), I think this whole thing might get a lot easier. Also-also, once the oppressive heat decides to let us out from under its thumb, I might be able to breathe again and not remain in a constant state of dehydration.
I still have not gone to the doctor because insurance is being a pain. Soon, though (hopefully). I’m in the “fun” stage of being pregnant, so I’m trying to embrace it. I’ve been cleaning more. That’s good. Today I had my first braxton-hicks, which I thought was way too early, but perhaps it was due to the unexpected workout after work, and the oven I stepped into which some might call a car. Right after it subsided, I felt a little thump! ACK!! First baby kick! Wow, it’s getting real! I sure would like for the insurance folk to get their act together so I can see this little chicklet.
One of these days I’ll post about something non-pregnancy related. Promise.
