I tend to get annoyed at the way 'hormones' seem to be blamed for everything. It seems to have become such a catch all cover-up. Mostly, I find it irritating that those who are accusing 'hormones' of being the culprit don't even know which hormones they are referencing... Anyway, I'm finding myself jumping on that bandwagon, as I found myself a bit more emotional and irrational while I was wearing three estrogen patches at a time. In particular, I had two near-crying episodes over my weight. I know it is something I should let go, but for some reason; I can't. Somehow, while limiting activity, I managed to lose a little weight during my stimming and early pregnancy. I was back to 150 just after my D+C. After running three 10Ks, two half marathons, going to cross-fit three times a week and playing tennis, my weight ballooned to 156. I know what many of you reading (if you are still reading this) are thinking, but Jane, it's muscle! I had myself evaluated with the hydraulic body fat test. I'm at 23% fat.
It's just not where I want to be, which is adding another layer of frustration to this process. We've been trying to have a baby for just over two years. I've had two entire years to lose weight and get my figure into top shape before embarking on a pregnancy, and I couldn't do it. More so, I am starting to fear that if I do become pregnant; how will I ever manage to lose the baby weight? I vowed that I will not gain as much weight as Myrtle did during her pregnancy. Not just because I am petty and pathetic and feel I need to do something better than her, although all that is true; because she did gain an excessive amount of weight.
I know I should be focusing on metrics other than the scale. To prepare for my half marathons, I did three training runs and ran three 10 K trail runs. My times for the 10Ks weren't quite where I wanted them to be, but I found that I felt really good while running, which I attribute to Cross-fit. During my first half marathon, I had a slow start as it was quite cold and raining hard, but I found my stride after mile 6 and finished strong. My time actually reflected a negative split, but it wasn't where I wanted it to be. Two weeks later, I was signed up to do another half marathon. I had been struggling with a cold and Husband encouraged me to switch my distance to the 10K. As the location of the race was on one of my training courses, and because I am too stubborn, I proceeded to run the half. This time, I got off to a good start and at the half-way point, I was way ahead of the volunteer 2.20 pacers. Maybe I could actually pull off a sub or near 2.15 time! I stopped at the aide station by mile 10 to remove my jacket. When I attempted to return to the course, I stumbled and placed all my weight on the side of my food whist trying to keep my balance. It wasn't a serious injury, but it was enough to slow me down. Slow down enough to watch the 2.20 runners pass me. I finished at 2.21:18. Not where I want to be, but I would take it.
Switching to another arena, I ended up taking a bit of a hiatus from swimming. When I first learned that the embryo's growth was delayed, I stopped exercising as I feared I would spontaneously miscarry and for some reason, I was really concerned it could happen at the pool. Okay, perhaps not getting up at 5:30 and swimming outdoors when it was subfreezing temperatures was also a way to console myself about the miscarriage... I was so happy to be back in the pool after the Christmas break, I almost didn't mind that the water was bone chilling cold. Later that day we learned that the heater and pump were both broken and it would take a over a month to fix. January would become the second month without swimming.
I knew our coach would be all-business when we returned in February, but I didn't realise how serious she was until she has us do timed sprints that week. The 4 x 100 timed sprints is one of the most dreaded workouts. Any time she's counting swimmers as they arrive, and gets out her clipboard to re-arrange lane assignments; it's not a good sign. I had only swam a few times since Thanksgiving, I had no fitness for sprinting! My best time during these trials was a 1:15. I told myself to be happy with anything in the 1:20s. I went 1:23/1:25/1:27/1:22. To my surprise, my coach was actually pleased with that. "I know it's not where you can be, but given the little time you've spent in the pool, I'll take that!"
On the morning of my transfer, I actually arrived to the pool early enough to get in some warm up laps. As I grabbed my board to do some kicking, I saw someone using the ladder to enter the pool. Use of the ladder is strongly frowned upon by our coach. We're expected to jump into our lanes (using the diving blocks is preferred) and get out "like a champion" which means you push yourself up on the side of the pool. There are only a few exceptions when using the ladder is permitted; if you're injured, if you're Lou, the oldest swimmer in the pool at the ripe age of 78, ... or if you're pregnant.
It was Amanda. I hadn't seen her since we returned to the pool after the broken pump. I remember feeling envy when I learned about her pregnancy while I was stimming. She was 14 weeks then, I would be about 18 weeks by now, so she must be 33 weeks or more. Damn! Good for her! There it was; the ultimate reminder that I'm not where I want to be. I recall in the days of my beta draws we were once in the same lane, and I was giddy over the fact that there were two pregnant swimmers in that lane. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I couldn't even look at her. As I was able to go straight home that day, I left the pool a little early to avoid seeing her on the deck.
At times I just feel that I should have more to show for myself. As I haven't been able to produce a sustainable pregnancy in the past two years, I should at least weigh less, swim better and run faster. I'm halfway through my 2WW, which is actually only a 9 day wait, thanks to my RE who likes to test early. Husband notes this is perhaps the only advantage of IVF. It's funny how certain aspects can sneak up on you. I can work with pregnant women all day long and not think about the fact that I could be a little bit sort of pregnant right now, but checking the expiration date on a carton of milk reminds me that I'll know one way or the other by the time the milk sours.
No, it's not where I want to be, but I'll take it. Actually, I'll do more than that, I'll embrace it as I know I'm fortunate to be in this position. Eventually I'll get over my other issues... someday...