Not your typical Father’s Day….


I thought I knew what I was going to post here last sunday.  Father’s day- an important day in our house.  Chris did such a good job with Mother’s Day, that I wanted to make sure his Father’s day would be just as good.  He woke up to several presents.  Muppet gave him a card and a treat stick so that her favorite dad could keep giving her treats (she’s such a puppy!).


The pea (our nickname for the little one on the inside) gave him Jimmy Fallon’s book “Your first word will be dada.”


And Mabel and I gave him a massage gift certificate, as a reward for his 100 mi Best Buddies bike ride and half iron man done recently.


We then went on to run a local road race.  We ran it last year, and in many of the years previously.  It’s a fun run, 5miles, passing along the water in Connecticut, with lots of onlookers and cheerleaders, ending in a festival.  And running a race this far pregnant was awesome- so much enthusiasm and cheering from the crowd.

At one point a woman cheered us on from her balcony and I looked up and smiled.  A moment later she said “Hi Mabel!”  I did a double take- confused, wondering if I knew this woman.  Then I realized she was talking to the people across the street with their dog.  I stopped and asked the people if their dog was named Mabel.

“Yes! How do you know Mabel?” they asked me.

“I don’t.  Mabel was my daughter’s name,” I replied as I pat their dog and then moved on.

Chris finished in about 45 minutes and I chugged a long in a jog/walk pace, finishing in about 75 minutes.  I’ll have you know, at 36weeks and 6days, I was not the last one to finish!  I finished 1439 out of 1460 :).


Of note, I had discussed this race with my midwives beforehand and got clearance to do it if I stayed hydrated- note the water bottle in hand.


Chris and I post-race selfie

Chris and I post-race selfie

I was a little inspired by the woman who ran a marathon at 39 weeks a few years ago and then went into labor- half joking that maybe it’ll do it for me (half joking because I was far from ready for labor and a baby- lots more logistical and emotional work to do beforehand).

We spent the rest of the day doing errands and house things.  I was somewhat limited because of the extreme soreness I had doing all that jogging (still with the pubic bone pain this time around).  I was having some mild pressure contractions- not painful- like I had had a week before, though I thought nothing of it because I figured I was still a little dehydrated from the race and they weren’t painful.  After a dinner of Chicago pizza (literally from Chicago- a gift from Chris I had been saving.  Deep dish Giordano’s pizza shipped frozen for my birthday) and an hour or two of tv we went to bed and I fell asleep.

Then this happened:

At some point I’ll take a minute to write down the whole birth story in my own words.  It was so fast, I’m still processing it all.  I am extremely grateful that all turned out well.

So I’d like to take a moment to introduce:

Felix Odom Constantino
Born 6/22/25 at 2am
At home, on the toilet, into the hands of his mother! (By accident after a VERY fast labor)

7lbs 3oz, 20inches

IMG_7351 IMG_7353 IMG_7356




Sharing too much

She was hemming and hawing over whether to take a particular medication in pregnancy. My opinion was that she would benefit greatly. Sure, everything has its risks, but women (and also some other providers) err on the “conservative” side recommending avoidance of all medications in pregnancy. Women and babies sometimes miss out on some valuable benefits. I’ve seen it done when discussing exercise. “No you can’t do crossfit,” “don’t let your heart rate go above 140,” and “if you don’t exercise now, you don’t want to start in pregnancy.” Baloney. None of these recommendations are evidence based and they do a disservice to moms and babies. Exercise has so so any benefits. I often want to share with my patients what I did in pregnancy, leading by example. I’ll make a quick offhand comment but quickly divert so there are not further questions. I would hate for them to probe too far and learn my baby died.

As I talked to this woman on the phone, I sensed she needed more assurance that the med would be okay. We had already gone over the risks and benefits, but she was still hesitant. Finally I said, “Listen, I was on a very similar med all through pregnancy. I only tell you this because I want you to know I wouldn’t recommend something I wouldn’t do myself.”

I hear the relief in her voice. Correct me if I’m wrong, but sometimes patients want our personal opinions. She began to seriously consider.

“Can I ask you one more question, if it’s not too personal?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Did you breastfeed on the med?”

Sh*t. Just when I thought I had done the right amount of sharing, it backfired.

“My baby died shortly after birth- nothing to do with the med, so I couldn’t breastfeed. But had she lived I certainly would have. No doubt.”

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

I was reminded of this experience while reading C is for Crocodile’s post . How badly I want to maintain membership in this group- the “I’ve been pregnant too” club, as well as the “pregnant making hard choices” club. They are silent clubs, like most of ours are, so I have to allude. But by announcing my membership, I sometimes inadvertently have to share that I also belong to the babyloss club- something that sometimes feels right, but sometimes feel unprofessional. Here, it didn’t feel so good. I didn’t cry- I’ve become quite good at saying “my baby died.” It just felt crummy that my contribution, my commaraderie with this woman, suddenly became tainted. It’s as if it nullified my membership.


Has this happened to you? Have you had a time when you felt you shared too much? What happened?

Dear Bootcamp Instructor

Dear Bootcamp instructor,

I was never a fan of group exercise.  I was happy running when I wanted, for how long I wanted.  But as pregnancy shaped my body and complications with my baby arose, I found I couldn’t run for both physical and emotional reasons.  With a broken elliptical at home and no gym membership, I was uncentered and anxious without my exercise routine.  I finally caved in to a friend’s entreaties to join her at “bootcamp.”  My first class, I arrived early and sat in a near panic attack as all the women in the 6pm class performed different exercises in near seamless coordination.  Everyone looked so good!  I was overwhelmed.  Then the warm up nearly did me in.  I left feeling on the fence about whether this bootcamp was for me.  I tried again at an early morning Wednesday class and left still feeling undecided.  I had an ultrasound later that day with my doctor (a fellow bootcamp-er) and I remember telling her I was like 50/50 on whether I liked it or not.  I gave it one last shot on a Friday morning class that you were teaching.  When I left, I began thinking, I could like this.  In the car on the way to dinner later that night I was telling my husband about my day and told him about the good class I went to with the friendly instructor.  And then there you were at the restaurant- smiling and remembering my name!  Like I told you the other day, that’s what sold me.

Over the next three weeks, the exercise saved my sanity.  I learned to love jam ball slams for the anger I could release about my baby’s health.  When I was admitted to the hospital, the doctors (my colleagues) all had a good laugh at rounds about how their admission for the day (me) would be late because she wanted to go to bootcamp.

I tried to continue the pace in the hospital, taking time each day to do a mini-bootcamp while tethered to the fetal monitor.  You’d be surprised what one can do in a small hospital room attached to a six-foot wire.  My husband even got me a medicine ball for my birthday, which I celebrated in the hospital.  I yearned to do some jam ball slams, but my midwife and doctor (also fellow bootcamp-ers) didn’t think it would be a good experience for the patient in the room below me.  My doctor thought I was a great research project in itself, showing that a baby with no fluid did just fine through vigorous exercise.  How cool it was to watch her heart rate never falter while I did ball taps and squats.  Your class was even on my mind in labor as I told my midwife between contractions, “this is harder than bootcamp!”

My midwife let me return to bootcamp at 2 ½ weeks postpartum, under her supervision.  My daughter was buried, my family had all left and my husband was back at work- I was alone and terrified of my grief.  In the initial days, I wouldn’t get out of bed, barely eating.  Going to bootcamp gave me a reason to get out of bed, brush my hair and eat breakfast.

Upon returning to my first class, I sat in the car crying until the last possible moment.  I was scared of the memories- being somewhere that I only knew in pregnancy, seeing people who might ask about my baby, unaware that she had died in my arms.  I made it in that day, as you know, and many days that followed.  That first day wasn’t the only day that saw tears.  The nice thing about bootcamp is I can’t make it through a class without a red face dripping with sweat- a nice camoflauge for the emotion that would spill out without warning. 

Bootcamp allowed me to step out of myself for a bit.  I took a momentary vacation from my sadness everytime I thought “only ten more seconds of climbers,” and sometimes I dove deeper into my grief, using my anger to push me further.

As you may have noticed, I come pretty much exclusively to your classes.  I found myself going almost exclusively to your classes, looking forward to the bubbliness and kindness you showed.  You didn’t treat me weird- you didn’t ignore the fact that I was back, no longer pregnant but childless, nor did you treat me like I had some sort of leprosy.  I was comfortable.  I was coming to your mid-morning classes (one that I dubbed the “mommy class” because of all the kid chatter that happens before warm up) and I could come alone- without the crutch of my friends from the earlier classes- because I knew you.  You knew my name from day one.

I often think that the person you see at bootcamp is not the “real” me, though I’m not so sure anymore.  There I know I am quiet and keep to myself. Other bootcamp-ers might even find me unfriendly, as I learn how to smile and make small talk again.  I might not show how much I enjoy being there and how much my body and mind need to be there.  This new timidity and shyness is a function of the “after.”  In my other life, the one “before” I carried a baby I knew might die, “before” I had to take my daughter off life support, “before” my world came to a halt, I was outgoing and friendly and would have told you all this in person.  I suppose that is why I am writing this.  All the times I have referred to “bootcamp” in writing this, I‘ve really been thinking of YOUR bootcamp.  I feel like I’m in AA, going back, making amends, thanking all those who have helped me on my journey.  I was procrastinating writing this because my journey is far from over, but a friend encouraged me to do it.

So in case I haven’t been vary clear… Thank you.  Thank you for your cheer, your motivation, for knowing my name, learning my story and welcoming me.  Thank you for giving me a temporary reprieve from and insight into my sorrow at the same time.  Thank you for making your class a warm place, full of exertion and encouragement.  You’ve helped me enormously.  You are an excellent trainer and wonderful person.

Thank you.


Finding my boundaries

“Oh my daughter was in the NICU!” I said, sort of cheerily, finding something in common with my patient who has worked in a NICU.  The moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were a mistake.  She didn’t respond- I don’t know if she had read the sign and felt it was inappropriate for me to be bringing it up, looking for pity.  My instinct was just to find some common ground, but I realized after I said it, if we elaborated any more, I would have to say my baby died, which wasn’t fair to the patient.  The visit was about her and her pregnancy- not about me and my daughter.  Recognizing her unease, I quickly changed the subject and went on to the next order of business.  She asked about exercise in pregnancy– something I have strong opinions about.

A patient once told me how one of my colleagues told her to stop crossfit in pregnancy.  I told her the exact opposite.  In the absence of complications, most exercise routines can be continued with some modifications.  I encourage my pregnant patients to exercise- continue their regimen or start a new one.  I had a patient who ran half marathons while pregnant.  I, myself, was very active in pregnancy.  Again, I wanted to bond with this patient sitting across from me and mentioned I did bootcamp through the end of my pregnancy.  This time I quickly transitioned away from me, not giving her a chance to respond, focusing the attention back on her.   She asked about deep squats in the third trimester.  I wanted to say so much more- about how I would exercise in the hospital while hooked up to the monitor.  And if a baby with no fluid could tolerate it well, an uncomplicated pregnancy should have no issue.  My high-risk doc thought I’d make a great study- showing the lack of any fetal distress in the presence of exercise and oligohydramnios.  These thoughts whizzed through my head, but I kept them to myself.  I just thought they’d hammer home the point of just how OK exercise is in pregnancy, but I also knew saying them out loud could lead to more questioning.

It did make me wonder what would I have said if I had a baby at home.  Would I have talked more easily about my pregnancy because it wouldn’t cause discomfort to others?  What do other providers say to patients, if they themselves have had a baby?  Before Mabel I could only talk in generalities or tell other people’s stories, but now I have personal experience.  I recognize over time, as the memories of my pregnancy and labor fade, I’ll be able to speak in more generalities again.  But how do others do- those who have just had babies.  Do they bring in their own experience?  And do patients find it helpful?  I can see how in some ways it might not help at all- providers who say- well this is how it was for me so this is how it should be for you– might come off as insensitive.  But in that exercise example, I thought it would support her.  In the future, someone dealing with loss- would it help her to know her provider had a loss too?  I wouldn’t want to take away the attention from her, only show her I can understand on a different level.  I think it would have helped me when I was a patient, but would it help others?  For the future, I wonder if when I want to reference my pregnancy, I could say “I know someone who…,” [meaning me, but not actually saying it’s me]?

To everyone in general, how do you feel when/if your provider to brings in a little personal experience sometimes?

To those who have experienced loss, have any of you had an experience with your providers (nurse, doctor, midwife, etc) who have had a loss and shared about it?  If you haven’t, would it have been helpful?


The Road Race

As we lined up at the starting line, we agreed to meet in front of the ice cream store after the race.  I had already told Chris and our friend that I’m slow.  Last year I had my personal best- I ran the annual five mile road race at my 5-k time.  This year, I was back to some of the goals I had set when I rant he race for the very first time.

A few years ago I took up running, out of laziness.  The extra five minute drive to the gyms sometimes killed my motivation.  Running was simpler: I could do it anytime, anyplace.  So I made a goal, I trained for an annual five-mile race in a nearby town, a distance I had never run before.  So several times a week, I went out and slowly upped my mileage.  Three months later I was ready.

I had three goals for the race: finish without stopping, finish in under an hour and beat Chris.  Chris decided to run the race too, but had only been running twice in the months beforehand.  I had been training several days a week for the past three months and I felt I deserved to be faster!  Race time came and I completed all three goals.  I ran the race a few more times in the following years.  Chris did too, but he became a lot faster.  Last year I ran my personal best- a 9:30mile.

This year, I haven’t been running so much.  I ran regularly while pregnant up to 25 weeks and then became quite uncomfortable.  I ran once more at 28 weeks and again at 31 weeks, but couldn’t do it anymore, partly for physical reasons and partly for emotional reasons.  I resumed “running” at 4 weeks postpartum- intervals of jogging and walking, eventually working myself up to my normal three-mile route.  But I was slow.  Some days I was as slow as I was at 31 weeks pregnant.  I’ve been doing more bootcamp than running, which plays a big role.  And my pelvis still isn’t the same.  It still hurts when I run.

So I ran the race at much slower pace than last year.  And even as I huffed and puffed, surrounded by good people-watching, bands playing on the sidelines and pretty scenery, I could not escape my daily obsession: my baby is dead.  Every step of the way, I was reminded that I was slow because I had been pregnant… but I have no baby.  I tried to push those thoughts aside and focus on running, but I was either constantly passing or being passed by women and men pushing strollers.  I should have been pushing a stroller during this race…. but my baby died.  I thought back to the last race I ran- a turkey trot on Thanksgiving.  I was pregnant then… what do I have to show for it now?  As I took each step I tried to remember what it felt like to run while pregnant.  And then I remembered- a burning pain in my symphasis and an uncomfortable pressure on my tailbone remind me.  Though not as strong as in pregnancy, I still had the similar pelvic pain brought on by running.  My body won’t forget the baby it grew, held and pushed out.  My mind and my body just won’t let go of the memory of Mabel, even for a minute.  I became frustrated at myself – can’t I get through just one thing, without being reminded of what I have lost?

After the race, Chris and I found a tall shady tree to lie under, staring up at the leaves.  I asked Chris what he was thinking about.  “Trees are weird.  They grow green leaves, they fall off and grow back again.”  And then he asked me what I was thinking about “pregnancy,” I responded.  “I asked you because I forget what normal people think about.”

I forget what normal people think about.

A simple lunch, not so simple

I sat with Chris in the small waiting room at the Maternal Fetal Medicine office.  We were eagerly awaiting our first trimester screening.  It would be Chris’s first time seeing the baby on ultrasound.  I was especially excited for him because at thirteen weeks, I didn’t look pregnant yet, so I thought the ultrasound would make the pregnancy seem more real to him.  We didn’t know yet, that the ultrasound we were about to get was about to change our lives forever.  Sitting kitty corner to me was a familiar face.  I figured she was a patient, though it is sometimes hard for me to recall out of context.  When she spotted me she said hello and confirmed who she was- a gyn patient of mine, now pregnant.  I hadn’t seen her since the beginning of her pregnancy so I hadn’t known yet.  She looked at me, realizing I was there with a patient wristband, in an office really known only for doing ultrasounds in pregnancy.  “Are you pregnant?” she asked excitedly.  I nodded, because there was no real denying it.  “But I’m very early and my office doesn’t know yet.”  She smiled, assuring me my secret was safe with her.

I saw her a couple of times later in pregnancy and we could talk frankly to each other about some of the pregnancy pitfalls- aches and pains, the necessity for exercise.  When I was visibly pregnant it felt great to be making a suggestion to a patient- like exercising at least three times a week- and being able to back up the advice with my own experience.  When they say, “Oh, I know I should, but I’m just so exhausted when I get home.”  I could reply, “I know! Me too! That’s why I exercise in the morning.  I went for a run before I came here to work [my 10 hour day].”  Helped put a little perspective on things.

I saw her again.  Today.  I was out to lunch with a friend and I could see her a few tables away.  She sat with a group and had her baby with her.  She was only a few weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy so her baby is not much older than what Mabel would have been.  When I first saw her and her baby, my heart ached.  I could feel my pulse rise a bit and so I tried to slow my breathing down.  She saw me- I could tell by how she would every now and then glance towards me, in the same way I looked in her direction.  I was terrified she’d approach me and ask about the baby.  I don’t know how she’d react- whether she’d be dumbstruck, say something well intentioned but hurtful or find comforting words.  I was on edge the whole meal, wondering if the interaction would happen.

My therapist had advised me that when I start feeling the physical symptoms of grief and anxiety in an interaction- like heart pumping, blood rushing to my face, chest aching- to not run away.  Sit with those feelings, become used to them.  It was exposure therapy.  Learning how to deal with those feelings would help me in life and especially at work.

I didn’t tell my friend the discomfort I was having simply sitting there with that women and her baby in my line of vision.  I could have asked her to switch seats, so my back would be to her.  But since she had seen me, I didn’t want to offend her.  And at that moment I didn’t want to let my friend in on how everything can be a struggle sometimes.  I feel like now that I’m a working woman, it’s time to buck up and just deal.

The woman got up at one point to find the bathroom.  My physical reaction peaked as I wondered if she’d walk by us.  She found her way there without coming near us, something I wondered if she had done on purpose.  Maybe she knew.  Maybe she felt weird seeing her midwife in casual clothes.  Maybe she didn’t want to interrupt my personal life.  Maybe my body language sent a signal.  It’s not just the interactions that are uncomfortable, it’s the mere thought of them.  The possibility they could happen.  It’s almost worst when they don’t- there’re no release.

This is it.  I’ve said it before and it’s my new motto- this is my life now.  A simple lunch out is not so simple.

To run or not to run?

I went running today.  Yup- 31 weeks and 1 day.  Ok, so maybe most people wouldn’t call it “running.”  But I think it can be classified as a slow jog, especially if I moved my arms back and forth fast enough.  I had been running (I’ll use that term loosely now) since the beginning of pregnancy.  I was never fast.  I took up running a few years ago out of a sort of laziness- it felt like too much work to go to the gym and running I could do anywhere.  I both loved it and hated it.  I hated how hard it was.  I loved how much of a workout it was, how it made me feel physically and how it helped with my anxiety.  I ran in the light and the dark (with lights); the cold and the heat.  Before our wedding last year my husband and I ran a 20k.  To give you an idea of how “fast” I am, nonpregnant I run about a 10 minute mile, 9:30 on a good short race day. Since being pregnant I’ve seen that number creep up to a 12-minute mile.  I’m no superstar.


Side note: I want those who haven’t met me to know- I’m not a crazy exercise buff.  I’ve never had a six-pack.  I’m not that lady who plans to run a marathon at 37 weeks, nor publish photos of myself weight lifting huge amounts.  In fact I started this pregnancy a smidgen overweight.  This post is about being active, no matter your size or condition.  It’s a mindset, not a look. Staying active also gives me a huge mental health benefit.  I have had diagnosed anxiety for years- controlled mostly with a great therapist, some low dose meds and exercise.  Plus if I exercise more, I feel less guilty about how much ice cream I eat (a lot).


I had signed up with Chris and two friends to do a triathalon in September.  It would have been my first (Chris’s second).  We trained- swam, biked, ran.  When I found out I was pregnant I continued training.  Race was set for when I’d be 13 weeks.  I joked I’d be the fastest pregnant woman there.  I was nervous- mostly for the swim because though I’m a decent swimmer, I don’t like swimming in the ocean and with so many people around.  But I had paid my money and announced I was doing it, which made me motivated enough.  We ended up having our CVS the day before, which then restricted me from exercise that whole weekend.  I was secretly a little relieved, especially because it turned out to be 40 degrees the morning of the race.  I was also sad, because I still have yet to run one.  My sister also did a triathalon recently while newly pregnant and she did an Olympic (read: double the distance of the one I signed up for. Read: kind of awesome).  I was jealous.


Once I was off exercise restrictions (one whole weekend), I resumed my running routine- about 3 miles, usually before work 3-5 times per week.  There was a study recently publicized about how exercise in pregnancy can help boost brain development in later life for the child.  Heck yeah, I was going to do anything I could to help my baby’s brain development.  I started taking a choline supplement too (reported to help with neuro development in a mouse model study of mice pregnant with down syndrome-equivalent mice babies).  The benefits to my baby helped motivate me.


As I got more pregnant, it became a little more uncomfortable, mostly after I ran.  I saw a chiropractor to help with the tailbone and pubic bone pain the running seemed to exacerbate.


At 25 weeks, I ran a turkey trot 5k. I had my pregnancy-best time! (10min 15sec mile).  I was so sore and tired after, I vowed that was my last run.  I would switch to the elliptical and training bike.   I have had it relatively easy physically throughout pregnancy- minimal nausea in the beginning .  I moved around easily.  I could go all night without peeing.  And I would listen to pregnant woman all day at work with many physical complaints (that I’m sure were real- I don’t mean to minimize).  After that turkey trot, I wondered if that was how other pregnant women feel all the time.  Maybe the physical ease was my trade-off for the emotional hardships I had faced.  Or maybe my mind was too busy focusing on the worry surrounding Down Syndrome, that it didn’t have time to focus on the physical issues of pregnancy.  Maybe I just wasn’t far enough along to really feel how hard pregnancy was on the body (still could be true).  The soreness after running gave me a taste.- though it only lasted that day.


When I was hospitalized in mid-December I was on bed rest for a couple days as we tried to figure out why I had low fluid.  Being on bedrest made me realize as much as exercise seemed like a chore at times, I needed it.  Once discharged and my doctors and midwives made it clear I wasn’t on bedrest, I got back into the swing of things, elliptical and bike.  And one day shortly after, we had a 60 degree day in December in Connecticut.  So I put on my running shorts (yup, shorts in December) and gave running another shot.  I was slow, but it felt good to be outside.  And then I was super sore the rest of the day.


That, and as I was running I couldn’t help think about my little baby in there, bouncing up and down with so little fluid.  Pregnant woman often worry about certain activities harming their baby, and I assure them that it’s really hard to hurt a baby on the inside.  Babies have this super tough water balloon with lots of cushion that they’re swimming around in.  Babies don’t mind most activities one bit.  But that reassurance didn’t help me.  My baby had so little cushion that I worried a bit while I ran.  And then when I got home I spent some quality time trying to feel fetal movement.  When some time went by and I wasn’t feeling any, Chris brought me some chocolate and tall glass of water. I got a little teary eyed as I waited for movement, thinking my selfishness wanting to run might have led to me killing my baby.  I know that may sound dramatic, but first of all- I am pregnant and so totally emotional.  And second, I think I get a little leeway as far as emotional status with all the new complications.  Chris tried to reason with me- our baby is more of an evening and nighttime mover, so of course s/he’s not moving much mid afternoon.  I was having nothing of it. At the end of the story, the baby moved.  All was well.  But the soreness and the emotional strain was enough for me to stick to my last time running vow.


Until today.  Another warm day in Connecticut. They are few and far between, especially on a weekend in the winter while its light enough to go outside.  Plus, our elliptical has been broken (that’s another story), the training bike is uncomfortable in different ways and I can only take so much Jillian Michaels in her exercise videos.  So I decided if I run slow, I’d be ok.  You’d think I’d learn.  Now 31 weeks, it’s harder to run- things hurt more; I had to stop once; I felt like I had to pee the whole time.  And that worry about the baby in low fluid crept back.  I came home and laid on the floor waiting for movement.  Baby eventually moved- but I don’t think I can take it anymore.  Now that I have no fluid, what’s cushioning my little baby now?  It’s enough pressure having to make sure the baby moves everyday (it doesn’t help that baby is most active at night and that now that I’m back at work and seeing patients, I’m so busy I barely think of it during the day).  The thought of my running causing extra stress (imaginary or not) on my baby is more than I can handle right now.


So today I vow (publically) that this was my last day of running.  The elliptical repairman came and supposedly fixed it.  My midwife has convinced me to try this somewhat cult-like bootcamp that all the other OB people go to.  I’ll be trying that this week, if I can keep up my nerve (Don’t worry, both my midwife and my MFM doc both attend, plus a myriad of other midwives and labor and birth nurses- so I’ll be in good hands).  Another friend introduced me to a pretty heart pumping 7-minute workout online.  So I have options.


It seems like yet one more unfair thing this pregnancy- all these complications not only cause me extra anxiety, but also limit my exercise which is one of the things that helps manage that anxiety.  But, I will stay active and try not to feel guilty about it.  I will help boost my baby’s brain power without worrying about squishing his/her cord.  Exercise is good, right?