Friday, August 14, 2015

Finding my fight again...


For those of you guys that have followed my blog, this has always been a space where I blogged about my fitness journey.  It started off as a way to hold myself accountable before getting married in 2013.

I totally had a great time posting all of the fitness things, offering advice, what was working for me, recipes etc. I got really really strong and was actually getting into incredible shape and doing man-like lifting right through last fall.  Every day was like leg day.


And then I found out I was pregnant with Lila Eve in October. 

The fitness posts dwindled, as did my blogging.  I had a fairly decent first trimester, but was SUPER tired and was working a really stressful job at the time.  I was super emotional and just downright exhausted at the end of every single day.  Walking and spinning made me feel better, so I tried to hang with it. The struggle was real. 

Second trimester was awesomesauce and I felt amazing and super healthy.  I ate great and I kept on with yoga, Pilates, and more walking.  I didn't think I could get big and feel beautiful, but I did! 

Third trimester was definitely hard.  I think this goes without saying for all of us that have been pregnant, those last few weeks are super tough.  I waddled more than walked, I was carrying more weight than I wanted to, but 30 pounds was all I gained.  On a 5'2 frame though, it was challenging.  Rolling over in bed and shaving became Olympic sports to me.  Don't EVEN get me started on the heartburn and reflux.  

And then our sweet nugget joined us and life has truly not been the same.  That little smile completely melts me every single day.  Even on the mornings after sleepless nights. 


In true chubby fitness girl fashion, I immediately contracted my friend and trainer that I knew from 2 years ago and came up with a plan to start working out as soon as I was cleared.  We met and discussed my goals (which was of course to be Ronda Rousey BA in a few weeks), and then started my training twice a week.  

Has it been hard? YES.  I've been sweating like a pig for an hour at a time, almost unable to breathe at points, but I'm doing it.  Is eating healthy again tough to do? Abso-freaking-lutely, because when you have a kid, good luck feeding yourself at regular intervals.  I'm lucky to shove in a sandwich some days before I realize it's dinner and I've had no other meals.  You come second to that little starving mouth which is always hungry!

But here's what I've learned in the past few weeks.  Underneath all the loose skin and farms (AKA fat-arms), is a strong woman that didn't lose her strength, she became stronger.  Mentally, I'm much tougher than I've been in awhile.  Well, minus those moments when I emotionally cry due to lack of sleep, but I'm seeing a warrior emerge in me, and that has really astounded me.  For 2 weeks, we've battled reflux and projectile formula vomiting and I stopped at nothing to figure out a solution.  The times I've wanted to quit during my training sessions, there's a set of eyes watching over me pushing me to go further, and at the end when I'm gassed, I did it.  One of the first weekends I worked out in a group, I went 6 rounds in an AMRAP and it's been at least a year or more since I've done that.  2 months after a baby and surgery mind you.  And while my body was tired, my mind pushed me to be better and to go hard like I always do. Bringing that little life into the world has toughened my skin in a lot of ways.  The little things don't matter and I care about the health of my daughter, me, and my family.  Even Jarrett is on the bandwagon!

Mommy skin is a unique thing. It's stretched and marked with new colors after carrying something so beautiful for 9 months.  It's made me look in a mirror and now I have a new drive to be a better version of myself.  It's also made me appreciate what women have to take on and how flexible but strong they have to be as they grow as mothers. 

When Colt asked me my goals about 3 weeks ago, it wasn't to run a marathon in 4 months out or to dead-lift 200 pounds.  My first response was "I want to get back to fighting shape".  He even wrote that on my assessment and that's now become my mantra.  To fight.  Not to fight against people or like go around beating people up.  Or even to fight for my right.....to paaaaaaaaaaartaaaaaaaaaaaay.

The fight in me is to do what I know in my heart is be the best "me" I can be.  Meaning mommy to Lila Eve.  A good wife to Jarrett.  A good daughter to my parents and in-laws.  A good co-worker and a good friend.  And this doesn't mean being perfect, which is something I've always struggled with.  Perfection is not my goal, it's being strong.  Allowing myself to break, but then get right back up again and keep going. Those days where I'm exhausted and the baby cries only after 20 minutes of a nap and all I want to do is close my eyes and sleep for a year....I just keep going. I don't know how, but I do it.

Happy Friday you guys.  Find your fight this weekend and be the best "you" you can be!

Thursday, July 30, 2015

The Struggle is Real

Y'all. I'm back to the grind.  Meaning....I had a training assessment with an awesome personal trainer and friend of mine this morning.  And now I'm sitting here chugging water and eating a Trader Joe's arugula, couscous and chicken salad for lunch. Yummy.  (True story, it's actually good, and I love healthy food).  I'm now strategically planning out next month's workouts since I have four weeks until I go back to work.

I don't even want to talk about how depressing that is.  4 more weeks with my munchkin.  Makes me sad.  Like my hero Scarlett O'hara said, "I'll think about that tomorrow".

Back to the story at hand. I looked at myself in the gym mirrors today with fresh eyes taking in a more shapely, rounded out Rebecca.  It was tough, because prior to getting pregnant, I was in full on beast mode throwing around heavy weights and doing things like 150 pound sled pushes while grown men stared at me with their jaws open. It was awesome.  I felt really strong and really proud of myself. 

Not that I didn't love being pregnant and proud of myself for bringing into the world the most BEAUTIFUL little nugget ever.  

(Insert shameless baby photo op here)...


COULD YOU DIE AT THE CUTENESS!?!?!?!?!?
I digress....


The other part of being proud of myself while pregnant was that I walked, I did yoga, Pilates and I pretty much ate lots of healthy stuff all along.  I indulged from time to time.  The last 3 months were incredibly taxing both mentally and physically. And at the end of everything, I gained 32 pounds.  Nothing terrible! And I had a pretty grueling labor ending up in surgery. 8 weeks out, I'm not in any pain and I am starting to feel back to normal. I have run some and even lifted some weights on my back porch.  I'm not where I need to be, but hey it's a start. 

But I got on that rowing machine this morning, rowed 1000 meters, and got a good side glance of myself in those mirrors. 

Those thighs y'all....well those got bigger.  I pulled in and out and felt my flabby stomach hit my knees over and over again and was like....well dang, that's new. I felt the soreness in my legs for the first time after rowing and thought....I used to bust out 1000 meters in no time, surely I can do it again. It took close to 6 minutes.  My butt looks like an extension of my back and has gotten flat. I definitely don't have "back" for right this moment. Hello pancake butt. 



The struggle is real.  Growing a human turned me into a soft and paunchy short lady that looks a lot different and hides behind maternity jeans and flowy shirts for now.  I have stretch marks all over my stomach. Can you say "tankini for the rest of my life"? My knees are creakier. That salad was good, but my husband's late night pizza in the fridge is calling my name, but I'm fighting the good fight.  "The girls" need their own zip code.  Good LORD. I think a plastic surgery fund may be in order.

I know I shouldn't be too hard on myself.  In fact, I was lying on an operating table hacked open about 8 weeks ago this time unable to feel anything below my boobs giving birth to the sweetest little girl.  As I was talking with my trainer yesterday about why I wanted to train, my main reason is to be strong for my daughter.  She needs to see mommy doing squats and lunges, running around with suns out guns out, and know that it's OK to be a girly girl, but you can do a serious dead lift if you need to.  She needs to know that mommies and daughters can be physically strong, and be strong for their families too. Being a good role model for her is just my thing and has been my goal all along. 

Thing is, having a child makes you re-evaluate your life.  Your concern for yourself becomes 2nd to that little tiny lifeform that depends on you for so much.  Try texting someone while feeding an infant and watch the rage take place when you don't hold the bottle just right. But in the end, I have to be healthy for this little girl and I'm diving back in headfirst. I am the heaviest I've ever been (well, minus at 9 months pregnant), but I'm excited to see where I am in a few weeks. 

Like Jax Teller said..."I got this"...


Stay tuned, new posts to follow after starting training next week!

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Life as of Lately

I've just now realized that I didn't even post about Lila Eve's birth story! Sorry you guys.  You can read about it here. Having a newborn makes you forget so many things.  Like where I put my grocery list.  Or where my car keys are.  Or trying to remember if I fed my child 3 hours ago. 

That's life as of lately. 



Life has drastically changed with my little one in the picture.  Late nights no longer consist of glasses of wine with my girls, they consist of feedings and diaper changes while I'm barely awake. My quick trips to the grocery store or Target are long gone. They require a sitter or a grandparents to just go and accomplish a small task.  My moments alone are spent napping or cleaning, not getting a pedicure.

I say all this with all of the love in my heart, because I truly wouldn't change it for the world.  I was not prepared for what a baby would be like.

I know, I know, you guys are all like...WELL YOU HAD 9 MONTHS TO PREPARE, HOW'S THAT POSSIBLE!?

Ok sure, I was prepared in the sense I had a nursery assembled and semi put-together prior to her arrival.  I had diaper bags packed with 12309123128 outfits for the hospital.  10 hats and 5 sets of headbands.  I read "What to Expect When You're Expecting" front to back.  I even bookmarked pages for Jarrett and quizzed him on all of the stages of labor.  I was prepared for a non-medicated natural birth followed by a beautiful experience breastfeeding and bonding with my child.  And then Care Bears would fill the room and sing a song about caring.  

Well, what I wasn't prepared for were all of the other things.  They need to write a book called "What You Don't Expect after You've Expected".  Or something like that. 

What I wasn't prepared for was my doctor telling us at 34 weeks that my baby was small and that she would make her appearance into the world early.  I started to panic making OTHER plans, realizing that the plan was that there would be no plan.

I wasn't prepared for putting my career aside and making it a second priority.  I had been so career driven for so long that the second I knew she was coming to meet us early, all of the emails, meetings and stress took a backseat. 

I wasn't prepared for caving for an epidural after about 2 hours of labor.  I felt like a HUGE wimp.

I wasn't prepared for my best friend showing up ON HER BIRTHDAY and sitting in the room with me watching the baby's heartrate and my contractions.  It's one of the best moments I could have shared with her, and we've had some beautiful ones. 

I wasn't prepared for how emotional that day would be.  Disappointment, then acceptance, followed by exhilaration, followed by immediate love.  

I wasn't prepared for hearing that first cry and thinking it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.  Weeks of worry washed away in cries that provided instant relief.  And then new worry. 

I wasn't prepared for looking over at my husband and feeling love swell so big I thought my heart would explode in the room and that surgeons would have to put it back together. 

I wasn't prepared for how much my family, friends and neighbors would pitch in to take care of me. 

I wasn't prepared for feeling like a complete and total failure at breastfeeding only to realize it wasn't about me anymore, it was about feeding my child.  IF that meant that milking a goat on top of the Swiss Alps, I was prepared to do it. 

I wasn't prepared to do just about anything for my child.  Like rock her to sleep for the 4th time after having a cranky night.  Or try 5 different swaddles only to realize she wants to sleep with her arms out. Or talk to her in the DUMBEST voice in the world.  But she loves it!

I wasn't prepared for those silvery purple stripes that appeared on my abdomen.  I look down at them shocked and sometimes disappointed in the fact that bikinis are probably a thing of the past.  But they're a badge of honor for getting her here, and I grew something awesome beneath those marks. 

I wasn't prepared to look in the mirror and see the bags under my eyes and the fact that my teeth may not have been brushed in 24 hours.  Feeling so put together for all my life went right out the window. 

I wasn't prepared to cry massive tears all over her little baby head telling her I loved her and would definitely screw things up at some point, but that I would be the best mom I could.  She slept and I just breathed in that amazing baby head smell that day and soaked it all in.

I wasn't prepared to love a little life form instantly.  I heard people talk about it.  For some of my friends, it took time for them.  Others fell in love instantly.  I did.  I saw her, she was mine, and I knew life would never be the same. 

It's been a whirlwind 6 weeks of tears, emotions, broken appliances, money drained, sleepless nights, and more diapers than I can count.  I've held little celebrations over things like adding another ounce to her bottle.  Or reaching the 7 pound mark, because she was TINY at 4 pounds 7 ounces.  I even danced around the living room one night dancing with her to "My Girl" with my door wide open for probably my entire neighborhood to see.  And I did not care at how foolish I looked at all.  I just cared how much I loved her. 

Writing has taken on a new life form for me.  Although this blog is not as busy with fitness posts as it used to be, it's still my place, my outlet, my little corner to write about my feelings.  I hope you all read this and share a little love with your families tonight.  Or if you have kids, no matter what age, you tell them you love them.  I sit here and stare at her little sleeping self next to me and cannot imagine life without her in it.  

Much love to you all! This chubby spin instructor is now a chubby (FOR NOW) proud mommy!

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Instant Love: Lila Eve's Birth Story

Hi everyone!  So I know that Chubby Spin Instructor has fallen a little by the wayside in the past few weeks due to an important life event.  I look at my fellow mommy bloggers and am always like "how DO they find the time to blog, take care of multiple kids, go to the gym, cook for their families and just literally stay sane?". But finally, our sweet munchkin made it into the world, a little earlier than expected, and I am finally happy to share with my blog family!

Meet Lila Evelyn "Lila Eve" Davis! She was born on June 1st, 2015 at 5:32 PM, weighing in at 4 pounds, 7 ounces.  She was a teeny tiny but VERY boisterous little girl that came into the world roaring to life.  And a head full of dark brown hair.  And just the sweetest spirit. It was a life changing day and it's been filled with so much joy. She has her mommy and daddy wrapped around her little finger already and I literally feel like a big ball of mush when I look at her every single day. I've already cried HUGE tears on her sweet little baby head multiple times vowing to be a good mommy. 


Her birth was definitely a bit of a surprise for us starting at around 34 weeks.  We knew based on her gender ultrasound that she may be small due to the way the umbilical cord was attached to the placenta.  But were told not to worry. Everything about my pregnancy was textbook and super easy.  I gained an appropriate amount of weight.  I felt so healthy and vivacious all the way through. I walked a ton and ate great.  I did have debilitating heartburn and reflux, which unfortunately sent me reeling to the kitchen sink multiple times a week, but, that was to be expected.  I cried in the bathroom floor vowing no more children on one particularly bad episode :) Jarrett was a trooper all the way through.  We breezed into our 34 week ultrasound without a care in the world and were like "oh yay, we have 6 more weeks, everything is fine, we still have time to hang pictures in the nursery and put together her pack and play!".

WRONG.

First off, I went to that appointment on a Friday after work alone, because I just felt like everything was so routine.  Jarrett was at work awaiting the normal updates. As I laid on that table watching her little sweet face on the screen, I was also side-eyeing the ultrasound tech, who had started chewing her bottom lip and saying less to me.  Immediate panic set in, so I started asking her lots of questions.  The size issue had reared it's ugly head again and LE wasn't growing like she was supposed to.  She was weighing in around 4 lbs 8 oz.  My doctor was not in the office that day, so I met with one of her partners, who then informed me that I would need weekly ultrasounds, and non stress tests due to her size, and that she was coming out at 37 weeks.  Would not stay in utero until 40.  I wouldn't go into normal labor like I had planned. And that I may wind up with a C section.  These were all things that I had in the back of my mind as possibilities, but were totally opposite of my natural-no drugs "I can squat-press this baby out, I got this"-birth plan.

Insert shock and immediate flow of tears down face here.  

I tearfully called Jarrett and started informing the parents, work contacts and close friends.  Like the planner that I am, I immediately readjusted my work schedule and started going into baby prep overdrive.  Each week at the doctor was like my first time there, because there was no progress with her growth and it literally was like a "keep a hospital bag in the car" scenario.  

Finally at our 36 week appointment, our doctor went ahead and set our date for induction, and we had a week left as a family of 2. We checked into the hospital on Sunday May 31st to start the induction knowing she would be born sometime on June 1st. A doctor with the BIGGEST MAN HANDS (for a woman) inserted the Cervadil and I was super convinced that sent me straight into labor.  No such luck.  In fact, nothing happened for about 6 hours until 1 AM when I started having mild contractions for 4 hours.  I didn't sleep, but Jarrett managed to.  I was too excited and scared to sleep. 

6 AM, out came the Cervadil, stopping all contractions.  And then my doctor checked me.  Not dilated at all. I was super disappointed but oh well. Plus the nurse let us know that the baby's heart rate had dipped some overnight so we knew that she may not be tolerating things well. I got a shower and put on some makeup. And then started Pitocin.  The nurses started cranking that up throughout the morning.  I was doing ok until they started getting stronger and closer together and I literally couldn't talk.  And I immediately felt weak.  In my head I was like "I squatted 155 pounds at my fittest, SURELY I can have this baby without pain meds". Nope.  And to this day, I admire the ladies that can do it, because it was a trip for a few hours.  Around 11 AM, I caved and went for the epidural.  30 minutes later of nakedness and talking with a really nice anesthesiologist, I was feeling like I was on cloud nine. A very tired, but very happy cloud nine. My water was broken after another exam and I laid in a pool of my own fluids for a few hours watching the fetal monitor as my sweet daughter was jolted around and continued to not tolerate labor well.  Lots of nurses ran in and out of the room. I was too drugged up to feel anxious any longer but I knew that things were not great down there.

Finally around 1 PM, my doctor made the call for a C section at 4:30 PM.  In hearing these words, I was already prepared in my head for this to happen, and I accepted what I knew was the safest way to get her into the world.  And managed to relax and spend the last few hours with Jarrett as we knew her arrival was closer.  Even in my exhausted state, I remember looking at him scared and afraid but knowing life was about to change forever.  I wish I could have captured that moment in a time capsule forever. What an amazing man to stand beside me through all of what was already a long-drawn out labor and delivery. (I'm like blinking tears back while as I write that). 

We FINALLY suited up for surgery around 5 PM.  I felt like I was pumped full of fluids to the point that when that blood pressure cuff squeezed my arm, I thought my fingertips would explode.  15 minutes later and lots of pressure on my abdomen, Miss Lila Eve came crying into existence and that was the happiest sound of my entire life! They brought her tiny self over to us and I dissolved into a mushy, emotional first time mommy and Jarrett could not wipe the smile off his face.  She was laid up on my chest for skin to skin and we snuggled while some fun activity occurred on the other side of that drape.  She was teeny but measured normally elsewhere and everyone in the operating room loved her instantly too. They took her and Jarrett out and he actually spent 30 minutes with her while they closed me up.  When they wheeled my bed in, he had her up against his bare chest doing skin to skin and once again, I dissolved into tears and snorty snots and was so in love with the both of them all over again.  We spent as much time with her as we could that night until my sister informed the nurses that I was falling asleep holding the baby because I was so exhausted.  She stayed in the nursery so we could get some rest after 24 hours of a crazy labor. 

We spent 4 days in the hospital getting to know her, trying to breast feed, and getting cabin fever together.  I was pretty out of it due to all of the drugs from surgery, but I spent those days learning her little queues and resting. Since she was so early, she would not latch onto me and I was immediately hooked up to a breast pump each time she fed.  And then I had 3 nurses trying to shove my goodies into her tiny mouth and she just was NOT having it.  We tried all sorts of contraptions and had to supplement formula, which made me die inside a little, because I was so pro-breastfeeding the entire time, but knew it may not work out (Today, after a lot of work and tears shed, I'm packing away our rental pump to return it.  That's a whole other post for a different day, but I was at least able to give her some of my own milk for a month, but it wasn't enough to sustain her).  I learned quickly that having your offspring ripped from your body 3 weeks early would cause you to cry or get angry at a rapid pace, so I definitely had my hospital meltdowns, but I had so many sweet friends come and visit us while we were there. If I could have skipped out of that hospital without popping my stitches, I would have. 

We have settled into life at home with our sweet baby and though I'm sleep deprived and I forget to brush my teeth most days, I could not imagine life without her in it. She is a wonderful baby, she LOVES laying on her daddy's chest to fall asleep, she is spunky to be so tiny, and is gaining weight after so many attempts with breast feeding and pumping.  She's a good sleeper and eater and just a beautiful, sweet soul.  We've been taking her to weekly doctor's appointments so make sure she's beefing up and she's almost 6 pounds now, which is a huge milestone for us.  I really could throw a party because it took some work to get her there. Next to marrying my best friend, she's the best thing I've ever done.  ALL of the grandparents are super in love with her and are spoiling her already. Between all 4 of them, we've hung pictures, shelves, had multiple dinner brought our way, and been allowed to run some errands and SLEEP. We even had our first date night last night and it was amazing. 

In the midst of my sweet girl arriving, my precious grandmother, Granny Price, passed away 2 days before she was born.  I truly think she was trying to hold out to meet her new great granddaughter, but her tired body gave out after 95 amazing years.  We gave Lila Eve her name, "Evelyn" as her middle name, and I really think that my child definitely inherited her spunk and feisty personality.  She is strong like her great-Granny.  Though I miss Granny and was so sad to miss her funeral, I know she was able to kiss and hold my sweet angel before she made it down to earth. And that thought gives me so much peace knowing that they were able to meet each other. What a beautiful circle of life that brought my baby to me and sent my sweet Granny onto heaven to reunite with my Grandpa and other family members. 

Thank you all for letting me share her birth story.  Like I mentioned before, this blog continues to evolve every time I write. I have 9 more weeks left of maternity leave so I hope to be able to write more in the coming weeks and get back to more regular posts.  I've already planned some posts on living with a newborn, losing the baby weight (can you say FARMS/fat arms), and getting back to clean eating.  Which surprisingly hasn't been that hard, I've taken great care of myself now that I have a little one to be my daily inspiration to be my best. And apologies in advance, but there will be a gratuitous amount of pictures of this sweet girl from now on, because she's so STINKING cute and changes every day. Much love to all of you and Chubby Spin Instructor is back! Happy Saturday!