5 Ways to Get Unstuck When You're Making a Change

When it comes to making changes, I am definitely not one to quickly pull the trigger. I consider the risks and rewards. I think about the pros and cons. I discuss it with others. And, sometimes, I think so much about all of the possible outcomes of the change that I don’t end up making the change at all, even when it is good for me.

Why is it so hard to make changes when we know that doing so would be, or at least could be, a very good thing? For some of us, making changes revolve around improving our diet and getting more exercise. For others, it’s about ending unhealthy relationships or addictions. Or maybe it’s something small like watching less television or being on our phones a little less everyday. Whatever it is, it seems like even if we’re highly motivated, making a change can be incredibly difficult.

Last week I asked you, the reader, to share what you believe to be roadblocks to making changes. Here’s what I got back from you (thank you) along with some of my own:

• Lack of time

• Lack of energy

• Lack of motivation

• Distractions (i.e. family, social media and television)

• Not feeling worthy of the time and attention it takes

• Lack of support

• Overcommitment

• Fear that the change will make things worse than the way things currently are

• Fear of being incapable of making the change

• Fear that the effort expended won’t be worth it

• Trying to change too much too soon

• Mental space is too crowded

• Lack of guidance and knowledge

For a lot of the things on this list, one thing is clear: attempting to make a change makes us vulnerable to an unfavorable outcome. But, wouldn’t you agree that the possibility of enriching our lives is worth the risk? So…..if we know that the change we’re trying to make could lead to a richer life, how do we go about it?

As a drug and alcohol counselor my first job when I met a new client was to gather information about their history and to assess what stage of change they were currently in. The hope was that they would be reaching another stage by the time they left. The transtheorectical model* of behavior change is not only applicable to people entering treatment, but to all of us. Here are the 5 stages of change. Which one fits you?

1) Precontemplation - a person in this stage is not planning to make a change in the foreseeable future. He/she has tried changing multiple times and failed and is not willing to acknowledge the consequences of what not making the change means. Sometimes this person appears to be unmotivated or resistant to change.

2) Contemplation - a person in this stage has an intent and desire to change sooner rather than later. They weigh the pros and cons of changing versus not changing, but focus more on the possible negative outcomes of change. They can become so ambivalent about whether or not to make the change that they don’t do it at all. A person can be stuck in this stage of change for a long time.

3) Preparation - a person in this stage of change is ready to change now. Chances are they already started working toward this change and have a plan of action.

4) Action - in this stage a person has made intentional and observable changes.

5) Maintenance - the biggest difference between this stage and the action stage of change is that not only has the person made intentional and observable changes, they’ve set up boundaries to prevent them from backsliding into the previous stages. Think of a person who decided to cut back on their sugar intake and now no longer keeps sugary sweets in the house so they’re not tempted to eat them.

Now that we’ve covered the 5 stages of change, look back at how I described my experience with change in the beginning of this article. Now, re-read the list of roadblocks that you guys graciously offered me. Do you see a theme here? All of the roadblocks, yours and mine, point toward a common theme. Most of us, if not all of us, have a tendency to be “stuck” in the contemplation stage of change. We want to make a change, but we fear the outcome. We let other distractions and uncertainties get in our way. We want to make the change, we’re just unwilling or unable to do so. We’re stuck!

So…..how do we get “un-stuck?” Below I outline 5 steps toward moving from thinking about making a big change to actually making a big change:

1) Decide if the change is worth it.

Any change we make, especially a big one, is going to have some period of discomfort. Afterall, if change were comfortable then we’d have no problem doing it! The question we need to ask ourselves is, is the change we’re making worth the time and effort it takes?

In an article for Psychology Today, Dr. Stan Goldberg says, “Uncomfortable change becomes punishing, and rational people don’t continue activities that are more painful than they are rewarding.” Whether we believe that the effort expended will be worth the discomfort could be easily answered by making a good ‘ol fashioned pros and cons list. But, I’d like to challenge this even a little further….don’t just make a pros and cons list of making a change. Make a second pros and cons list of not making a change. Exploring all sides will help clarify even more if the change is one that you want to make. If it is, go on to step 2!

2) Write your goal down.

You’ve probably heard this a million times. So, why is writing down your goal so useful? For one thing, it helps force you to visualize and specify exactly what it is that you want. We can’t plan a trip without choosing a destination!

Writing down your goals helps define what you want and motivates you to take action. According to a study done at the Dominican University of California, people who write down their goals are 33% more likely to accomplish them. So, get out that pen and paper!

3) Break down your goal into manageable pieces.

Now that you have your goal on paper, it’s time to refine it and figure out how you intend to make it happen. For starters, get specific! The more specific you get, the more measurable and attainable it is.

Let’s use the example of exercise since this applies to many of us. “I want to exercise more,” while a good goal, is not a specific goal. “I want to strength train two times a week, swim once a week and walk for 20 minutes everyday,” is a very specific goal, is measurable and is attainable.

Now that you’ve got your 3 types of exercise listed, or mini-goals, write action steps for how you want to achieve them. You want to strength train two times a week. How can you make it happen? Maybe it’s bringing your gym clothes to work so you can change and go from there. Maybe it’s getting a babysitter for a couple of hours twice a week. Same for swimming. Maybe for the daily walks it’s walking your kids to school everyday or taking a walk during your lunch break at work. Whatever your situation is, choose actions steps that are realistic and attainable for you.

4) Get others involved.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, most people who are successful do so with the help of other people. When you get other people involved in your journey toward change you get accountability (I said it out loud so now I really have to do it!), external motivation, encouragement, positive reinforcement when things are going well and support when they aren’t.

There have been multiple studies indicating that having a good support system in place is one of the predictors of success, so don’t hide out--reach out!

5) Be kind to yourself.

No plan we make is infallible. Sometimes there are personal, family and/or work scenarios that interfere with our goals. That is life. It’s important to stay flexible. Setbacks will happen, but it’s how we handle setbacks that makes the biggest difference. For example, if you’re trying to cut down on unhealthy foods, but you had a donut that someone offered you at work this morning, you don’t have to throw in the towel and make less than optimal choices throughout the rest of the day.

There are ways to get past the contemplation stage of change, but change is also a process. There will be ups and downs. Successes and failures. Don’t beat yourself up if something derails you. Remember, it’s about progress, not perfection.

Jill

*The transtheoretical model has a sixth stage of change, “termination,” that I’ve purposefully left off of this list. The termination stage of change indicates that a person has 100% belief that they will never be tempted to backslide again, but my personal belief system is that no one is perfect, and therefore, should always strive to be in the maintenance stage. The journey is never over.

Oliver's Birth Story

I haven’t really known how to start Oliver’s birth story. It keeps rolling around in my head and getting stuck on “shoulds.”

I “should” have gone into labor.

I “should” have had a "natural "birth.

I “should” feel that the most important thing is the baby’s health.

I “should” not mourn the loss of a birth experience I will never have because everyone is healthy.

But the truth is that there really is no “should.”

I can mourn the loss of an unmedicated birth experience while I am still so grateful for the beautiful birth I had.

I know that I had the experience that I needed. I know that I made the best decisions that I could for my son and myself. I know that I do not need to apologize for how I feel or the decisions I made.

Moving on.

There comes a point in pregnancy, maybe it's always there, when we start to really consider the exit strategy. How is this baby going to come out. And for many of us, it can be scary, empowering and exciting all at the same time.

Early in my pregnancy I thought that I had my exit strategy all figured out. I was going to have a c-section. I had had my son Dedrick that way and from what I had heard...once you have a c-section, you are locked in for a repeat. My OB told me that this was the safest way to go. It seemed an easy decision so I made it and moved on...

Until I saw Jill give birth.

Seeing Jill bring Jack into the world was an amazing experience. I felt so privileged to be a part of it. I saw Jill transform into a mother and it was remarkable. It got me thinking. My previous experience with birthing did not feel remarkable or empowered at all! It was scary and medical. It felt sterile and detached. At times during recovery it was dark and painful. That was not how I wanted to bring Oliver, my last baby, into the world.

So I started to research my options. I canceled my c-section. I hired a lovely midwife. And I started making plans to have a natural birth. 

Then the wait began. I was so sure that Oliver would come early. I had been having contractions for months. He measured big. I just felt it in my bones!

Perhaps that feeling was mostly wishful thinking.

Oliver hung on in my uterus like a koala bear! Dates and milestones began clicking by. The date of my previously scheduled c-section. Click. His due date. Click. One week overdue. Click. Click Click.

I went for long walks. I danced. I bounced on the birth ball. I drank the tea. I pumped. I chased my husband down for sex. I ate spicy food. I did everything that I could think of to induce labor.

My OB started to worry. Every day that passed put us both at higher risks. He was big and getting bigger reducing my likelihood of having him naturally even if I did go into labor. He hadn’t dropped into my pelvis so my cervix wasn’t softening or dilating. He was head down, but facing the wrong way, further weakening my chances for a natural vaginal birth.

My OB would not induce me because of the increased risk of uterine tear from the previous c-section. I had to decide whether to wait it out or opt for another c-section. This was one of the hardest decisions I have had to make. I felt like I had to choose between the experience that I wanted so badly and the health of my son.

In the end Oliver decided for me. I truly felt that he was trying to tell something. I weighed all my options. I cried. I talked with my son. And one morning I woke up and just felt certain.

So on February 18 at 3:30pm I headed into the hospital with my husband, my best friend and my midwife. When we got to the hospital it still didn’t really feel real that I was about to meet my son. We all joked and laughed as the nurses prepared me for surgery. My husband filled out the chart on the wall for the nurses, entering “misogynists” as my only allergy and “likes crazy pants” as the “preferences.”

The nurses seemed respectful but cautious of me. In truth, I felt a little like a high maintenance patient. Because I had done my research I had a very clear idea of what I wanted and what I didn’t want. I had some weird requests. I brought a big team with me. I wasn’t content to just go along with the way that they did things at the hospital. I wanted a different experience.

Even though I was having a c-section, I still wanted to do things as naturally as possible. Here are some of the requests I made:

Vaginal swabbing.

When I first asked my OB what the benefits of having a natural birth were he told me that the biggest one was the bacteria that the baby would be exposed to in the birth canal. My first thought was...well, if I have a c-section, maybe I could just rub some of my vaginal bacteria on my son. Seriously...why not. You wouldn’t believe my surprise and delight when I brought this up with my midwife and found out that it is really a THING! It has been researched and everything.

I won’t lie...the nurses at the hospital thought I was joking. Then, when they found out I was serious, they thought I was crazy. But, they gave me the gauze anyway.

Save my placenta.

Requesting to save my placenta for consumption did not help my cause with the nurses! So, for the second time since arriving at the hospital I got a “you want to do WHAT???” look from the nurses.

Before you have visions of Daenerys and the horse heart, I had my midwife encapsulate the placenta. Consuming my placenta has given me a little cushion in the rapid drop off of hormones after birth. Many of the hormones that we produce in pregnancy come from the placenta, so when we consume it postpartum, we can sometimes prevent the baby blues and postpartum depression. In fact, besides camels, we are the only mammals who don’t regularly eat their placentas after birth.

Skin to skin.

I requested that Oliver be laid on my chest immediately after birth. Traditionally, during a c-section, the baby is taken away to be cleaned, weighed and measured before given to the mother to hold. I wanted Oliver, goo and all, on my chest as soon as possible after his birth. I wanted to hold my son while the doctors stitched me up.

Latching right away.

This request went hand in hand with the skin to skin. I wanted Oliver to have a chance to latch right away if he was interested. I requested that my midwife be in the operating room with me in order to help me with this. I didn’t want to wait to bond with my son. I felt like I had waited a lifetime to meet him. I wanted to start loving and sustaining him right away!

Support system in the OR.

The last, but possibly the most important request that I had when checking in for my c-section was that my entire birth team be allowed in the Operating Room with me. I couldn’t imagine having Oliver without everyone there. My husband. My best friend. My midwife.

Jessie Mundell says that she didn't have the birth she wanted, she had the birth she needed. I couldn't agree more. Despite the fact that I ended up having surgery, I did have a birth that made me feel empowered. My c-section was “gentle” and I was able to do all the things that I requested when I checked in.

Once my IV was in I was taken into the OR to get an epidural. There was a big team of nurses in addition to my doctor and they talked through the surgery, ritualistically, as if I wasn’t there. The room was cold and bright. My heart fluttered. My anesthesiologist talked me through the epidural and joked about kids. I tried to convince him to have his daughter, whom he described as “strong but not fast” to try out the Highland Games.

The nurses laid me back and a warm rush flooded my body. I felt tingly and weird. It was a little hard to breath. My blood pressure dropped several times and the doctor worked to steady it.

My husband, Jill and Julia all came in looking pretty adorable in their sterile OR garments. It was such a relief to see these faces even as I was splayed out, naked from the waist down on a table. They sat behind me and I could feel someone put their hand on my head. They spoke encouraging words. I felt washed in their support.

Before I knew it the doctor was saying that we would meet Oliver in just a moment. My heart jumped.

Then I heard his cry for the first time.

It was like an angel singing.

This was my son I just heard!

It seemed like an eternity before he was on my chest, even though it was only seconds. I had to touch him. Kiss him. Hold him.

The doctor placed him on my chest. His warm skin touched mine. His smell was the only thing that I could smell. The softness of his skin was the only thing I could feel. His eyes were the only thing I could see. My son looked at me and my heart exploded.

Tears flooded my eyes and I looked back at Matt. He was reaching out for our son with tears in his eyes. This boy who would complete our family. This boy born out of so much love.

“He is so beautiful.” I heard Jill say.

Julia leaned forward and encouraged Oliver to latch...and he did.

All too soon, Oliver and Matt left the OR to cut the cord and get measurements.

9 pounds, 6 ounces. 21 inches. And 100% gorgeous!

It’s so hard to put into words the amount of love that laps at all corners of your life when you have a baby. I was so worried that bringing Oliver into the world would take away some of the love I had “allocated” for Dedrick. But it just made me love him more. I worried that I already loved Dedrick so much that I wouldn’t have enough love to give Oliver. But love is not a limited resource. It expands and multiplies. It is limitless. Oliver makes me love everyone more.

Oliver’s existence has crashed into our lives like any newborn would. We are up at night. Sometimes I don’t get out of my PJs until dinner time. Sometimes I don’t get a chance to eat. Sometimes I eat anything that is not nailed down. I’ve been covered in ALL the body fluids! I often don’t get as much time as I’d like to write or read. Sometimes I do my workouts in shifts between feedings. But I’m figuring it out and I’m loving it!

My experience has encouraged me to devote myself to helping other women feel strong and empowered throughout their pregnancies and integrate back into lifting postpartum. We help moms move naturally, eat primally and take unapologetic ownership of their place in this world. Movement Duets is also a part of the Mid Valley Birth Network and The Stork’s Nest, LLC, in which we host workshops on core and pelvic floor restoration. We plan to eventually take these workshops to the web. I also work part-time as a chiropractic assistant helping people move more like humans!

7 Things I Learned from Working in Rehab

If you’ve been following PUSH Fitness for awhile, you may already know that before I got into the fitness industry, I was an alcohol and drug counselor. I worked at a residential treatment facility for 4 years. It was one of the most challenging, rewarding, joyful and heartbreaking jobs I’ve ever had, and I’ve learned so much from it.

I’ve always said that without my experience in that field that I would not be half the trainer, or woman, really, that I am today. In many ways, working in addiction and recovery has prepped me for my current passion: helping others see the value of and implementing ways to live a full, holistic life through good nutrition, exercise, healthy mindset and connection with others.

I’ve found that the ways in which we can do this are strikingly parallel to the steps toward living a healthy life free from the addiction to drugs and/or alcohol. As we all know, acceptance is the first step toward making change, but there is way more to it than that. Here are seven things that I’ve learned from working in rehab that aid in living a healthy life:

1. Taking responsibility for where you’re at.

I seriously despise Dr. Phil, but one thing that I hear him say in his TV commercials is very true: we can’t change what we don’t acknowledge. When a person enters alcohol and drug treatment, they aren’t there because things are going well, and ignoring or not accepting the problem(s) is part of the reason that they are there. Whether their motivation is external or intrinsic (or maybe a little bit of both), true change begins when they accept that there is a problem that they need to address.

Same is true with health and fitness. We can choose to simply ignore the fact that we aren’t exercising or eating well, but that doesn’t make the issue go away. This moment came for me about 10 years ago. I knew that sitting on my butt all day playing “Where in Time is Carmen Sandiego?” while I ate half a container of pink frosted sugar cookies and drank a full glass of milk wasn’t healthy, but it wasn’t until I took responsibility for that behavior that I truly began the process of changing it.

2. Practicing a life of daily healthy habits.

One of the first things that residential treatment clients do is go over a schedule. Until they entered treatment, their lives were filled with chaos and erratic behavior. In treatment, they practice going to bed and getting up at the same time everyday, eating 3 meals and 3 snacks a day, exercising every morning, completing tasks by a deadline and being to groups on time.

Especially as a new mom, some of these things have been really hard for me to implement lately. But, as time goes on and as I continue to adapt to a new normal, it’s gotten a little bit easier day by day. One of the first things that I reintroduced to my life as soon as possible was exercise. As soon as my son was old enough to be in the gym’s daycare center at 6 weeks, I’ve been in the gym 3 times a week (and if for any reason I can’t, I do a home workout). I’ve heard some people call this selfish, but for me it’s an important part of my physical and emotional health and if I go without it I wouldn’t feel nearly as whole for my son.

3. Understanding that the only thing you really have control over is yourself.

Something that I saw a lot of when I was a counselor was blame shifting, as in blaming other people or circumstances for our problems. This was especially prevalent in discussions about relapse. “If she hadn’t had served alcohol at the wedding,” or “If my parents would just get off my case” or, well….you get it.

I’ve felt this way about food and exercise many times. “If he wouldn’t have brought that plate of cookies into work,” or “If my day had gone better than maybe I’d feel like exercising.”

Regardless of the circumstances, what it all comes down to is this: the way we act, what we do, the words we use, and the way we perceive things is solely at our discretion. When we see this for what it is, we realize how much power we actually have in changing our lives for the better.

4. Tackling your issues head on.

Once becoming clear of mind and after the novelty of being in an unfamiliar place fades away, the real work begins. In rehab, this looks like taking responsibility for a problem and then taking steps toward change. The more specific about these things the client is, the better. Generalization is a fantastic place to hide out when you’re scared or resistant, and it does nothing to facilitate change.

An example of this in my life is the moment when I acknowledged that I had been practically starving myself. I was under eating and overtraining, and it wasn’t until I stared the problem down in the face that I took steps toward change. I did this by getting help from a counselor, a qualified trainer and surrounding myself with like minded people.  

5. Letting go of resentment.

Nelson Mandela said, “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.” Resentment is a huge trigger for a recovering alcoholic/addict. Reiterating what I said earlier, blaming others or harboring anger is a lot easier than facing our feelings. And, in case you didn’t draw the correlation, drugs and alcohol do a great job of covering up uncomfortable feelings. Whether the issue is with another person or yourself, forgiveness is key in freedom from the pain of anger.

When I was in my early 20s I was in an unhealthy relationship for 4 years. My boyfriend at the time and I were constantly fighting and I was being put down so much that I started to close in on myself. Eventually, I got the courage to break up with him, but I was angry at him for a number of years. The chaplain at the treatment facility that I worked at suggested that I write this ex-boyfriend a forgiveness letter. So, I did. And nothing changed. He told me to write another one. So, I did. And nothing changed. I rewrote that letter 6 times, and when I read it aloud the sixth time, I felt it. I was finally able to let go of that anger. He never received this letter, but it wasn’t for him. It was for me. After all, who was suffering more from that resentment….him or me?

Our mindset must be as healthy as our bodies in order for us to live a full life. Whatever the issue is, whomever it involves whether it’s with yourself or someone else, remember this: forgiveness is a process, not an event.

6. Involving others in the process.

Most people who get well do so with the help of other people. A residential treatment client can do all of the self work and preparation for re-entering the real world that they want, but if they don’t have a support system in place, they are destined for a really bumpy road toward recovery.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve said to myself, “I’ll start working out on Monday,” before I actually did it. It wasn’t until I started making my health and fitness goals known to others that it became a reality, and eventually, a lifestyle. My workout regime became particularly set in stone when I got a workout partner. Accountability with lifestyle changes is much more sustainable with somebody else there to help you keep sight of your goals.

7. Having a plan for setbacks.

Relapse prevention is heavily covered in alcohol and drug treatment for obvious reasons. A client works on identifying his or her triggers, writing them down, creating a plan for dealing with them without drinking or using and (hopefully) shares this information with their support system.

The value of a workout partner and/or trainer cannot be understated here. I involve other people in my exercise and nutrition goals not only so I have people to keep me accountable, but to have people there for me when I fail. Having a plan in place is great, but nobody is perfect, and setbacks will happen. It’s how we handle these setbacks that matter.

Positive or negative, the things that we do over and over again are habits. Behavior is one of the hardest things to change. It requires patience and a plan. I’ve shared these seven things with you because I want you to be successful in achieving your goals. That’s why PUSH Fitness exists. Because YOU matter.

If you’ve found any of these things helpful, or if you have steps of your own that I didn’t cover--I want to hear about it! Comment on this post and let me know what they are.

Jill

Jack's Birth Story

Jack is our first child. My husband Sam and I prepared the best that we could by reading books, talking with friends and family and taking a birth preparation course at the hospital where our son would be delivered. As the weeks went on I began to feel more anxious and excited. In some ways, my labor and delivery experience was what I thought it would be and at the same time it wasn’t, because, how can you truly anticipate and fully prepare for something like that?

Sam and I made a pretty flexible birth plan. It was important to me to have options throughout the whole process and to maintain mobility for as long as possible. I wasn’t sure if I would use pain medications and/or the epidural or not...I wanted to stay open and see what happened. So….here’s what happened:

I started having contractions a little after midnight on Sunday, October 4, 2015. It felt like intense menstrual cramps, and they would happen about every 40 minutes or so. I knew these weren’t true labor contractions, so I didn’t bother waking my husband up to tell him about it. It could wait until the morning. Besides, I had been experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions for a few days now and ever since the first time I felt one, Sam had been on high alert….he was ready to go to the hospital at any time. I felt pretty relaxed about things at this point.

Later that evening we went to my nephew’s 16th birthday party. My whole family was there and asked me how I was doing. I explained the early morning contractions. And I experienced them at the birthday party, too. My family got excited, knowing that the baby could come at any time. I knew it was possible that he could come at any moment, but it was far off in my mind. Our son wasn’t due for another 12 days. And I’ve read the books; first time babies are usually late, right? I wasn’t getting too anxious.

Monday, the contractions continued. They were anywhere from 15 minutes to 1 hour or more apart. I still wasn’t getting overly excited as I knew that early labor could go on for days, even weeks. It wasn’t time yet. I already had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for that afternoon. My OBGYN blew my mind when he said that I was about 80% effaced and 2-3 centimeters dilated. Things were further along than I thought. He said that we were officially on baby watch and to just wait and see what happens. My chest got a little tighter. Wow. This really could happen soon....

Since my contractions were still irregular, I was considering going into the gym to lift that same evening. I'd maintained a pretty consistent workout routine throughout my pregnancy and if I felt like I could, I wanted to workout. The familiar routine could help keep me clear-minded and calm. I posed the question to my coach and training group: should I go in and workout, or should I take it easy and work through the contractions at home? But then when the contractions started to come on every 15-20 minutes, I decided that my workout for the evening would be early labor. It went on like this for the better part of the evening.

During the night while I was sleeping a good, hard one would wake me up about every hour or so, and then….they stopped. In my rational mind I figured, well, this is the part that they say can go on for quite some time. Nothing to get too excited about yet. I didn’t have any contractions for about 4 hours. And then…..

At about 11am on Tuesday October 6, 2015 I began having stronger and more frequent contractions. They were about 8-10 minutes apart and lasted for about a minute to 90 seconds. My husband was at work and I knew that they weren’t close enough together to go the hospital yet, but I knew that he’d want to know how I was feeling so I texted him. He came home from work early, and my contractions were getting closer and closer together.

There were 3 different laboring positions that I preferred. One was lying on my side with a pillow in between my knees and breathing deeply with the rise and fall of the contractions. Another was standing with my arms around my husband’s neck and leaning into to him as we swayed from side to side (also called “The Slow Dance”). But the one I used the most was being on all fours with my chest and arms draped over a physioball. My husband would place his hands on my hips and squeeze during the strongest part of the contraction (aptly named, “The Double Hip Squeeze”).

Around 12:45 p.m. or so my contractions were about 5-7 minutes apart and were lasting about a minute. Me being efficient and all, I wanted to eat lunch before we went because I knew that I wouldn’t get to eat again for a long time. Well, I don’t know if you’ve tried to eat a meal while in active labor, but the process gets a little drawn out! I would have a contraction between every 2nd or 3rd bite of food. In the meantime, my husband was making sure we had everything we needed in the hospital bag. He was really excited. I was, too, but I just wasn’t convinced that we were actually having this baby yet. He wasn’t due for another 9 days and surely my contractions weren’t that regular yet, right? As we were headed out the door I looked at my husband and said, “Are you sure we should go? Are you sure it’s time?” “Yes,” he said sweetly and gently. And away we went.

We got to the hospital a little after 2pm. We walked up to reception and I told the woman who was behind the desk, “I think we’re having a baby…” My mindset was still not allowing me to believe that this was actually happening yet. Not so much out of anxiousness or fear over having the baby, but as self-protection for not being disappointed if they sent me back home because it was too early.

However, my body talked back to me as I continued to have contractions in the waiting room and in the delivery room as the nurse was checking us in. She handed me a gown and a big plastic bag. I was to change into the gown and put my clothes in the bag on the back of the bathroom door. In that couple of minutes in the bathroom alone, I really started to think that this was happening. I’m in labor. I’m having a baby….I had another contraction.

I laid down in the hospital bed while the nurse checked my vitals and put the fetal heart rate monitor on me. I looked over at her and I said, “I can’t help but feel like I’m going to go back home.” She looked kind of surprised as she said, “Not without a baby, you’re not! You’re having this baby today.” Apparently, she never even questioned whether or not it was really time.

My contractions were gaining more intensity and were getting closer and closer together. After about an hour of being there, they were coming one after the other, with very little to no rest in between them. Sam called family and friends at my request to update them on our progress.

The first person to show up at the hospital was Cara. We had talked about it beforehand and we decided that she would be Sam’s relief person. She was so excited and showed up with trashy magazines because she knew I’d like that. The next contraction was coming….I hugged her, leaned on her and the tears started flowing. This was so exhausting and painful. And, I was so happy to have her there.

I started to consider pain relief. It was important to me to maintain mobility for as long as possible, but I wasn’t sure how long that would be a priority to me when I was in this kind of pain. The nurse filled up the jacuzzi tub for me and I had planned on using it, but my contractions were coming so quickly that I never got there.

I decided to go ahead and try an IV of fentanyl (a narcotic pain reliever). This was to help take the edge off. I was required to stay in bed for at least 15 minutes while it was taking effect. Unfortunately for me, the effects of the drug only lasted about 5 minutes, and I couldn’t try another dose until it had been an hour. When an hour had passed, I tried another dose. Same thing. 5 minutes, and then it was gone.

At about 6:30 p.m. I looked at my husband and I said, “Okay. I’ve had about enough of this.” We asked the nurse to order the epidural. Being a trainer, a lot of people anticipated that I would have a natural childbirth. I even thought that I might have one. Ordering the epidural did not make me feel weak, disappointed, like I wasn't a "real" woman or like I was letting anyone down. For me, it allowed me to be more open and relaxed for the experience. And besides, isn't desiring relief when you're in pain natural, too?

When the anesthesiologist arrived, the majority of my family had arrived as well. I have a big family and we love being together. I think my mom came before everyone else, but that’s a little foggy...They had to wait outside until the epidural was administered.

The anesthesiologist went over all of the necessary risks and benefits and walked me through what was going to happen before it happened. I continued to have contractions while he was talking and prepping me and it was really hard to focus. The hardest part of all was that he told me that I needed to stay very still, even if I was feeling a contraction, while he put the needle in. I managed to do it, and I barely felt the sting of the needle as I rounded my back per his instruction, especially compared to what I had been feeling. He asked me to let him know when the pain of the contraction started to go away. It went away in just a couple of minutes. Relief washed over me. I could finally breath and somewhat relax. I told Dr. Jensen that I loved him and offered to give my child “Jensen” as his middle name. Of course I was kidding. This was a good sign that I was feeling better.

I have never been hospitalized or seriously injured before and this was my first experience with a drug of this capacity. The strangest feeling was that my right leg was completely asleep. I could mostly feel my left leg, and it made me worry….would I feel contractions and pushing on the left side?

But, I couldn’t even tell when I was experiencing contractions anymore. To me, this was a good thing and a bad thing. Good that I couldn’t feel it, but bad because would I be able to tell when I had the urge to push? A catheter was also placed for my urine stream. Honestly, this was the most uncomfortable part of the epidural process for me. While it didn’t hurt, I could feel the tube the whole time.

My family was let back in. I was really grateful that they didn’t get there before I received the epidural. I love having my family around, but I wouldn’t have wanted them to see me going through the pain of contractions. Those were very private moments between Sam, Cara and I. I can’t say that I remember how long they were in the room for or what we talked about. I don’t remember talking with Sam or Cara either, even though I know that I did. I remember having a couple of popsicles and some chicken broth. And I remember the nurse having to constantly readjust the fetal heart rate monitor. This made it very hard to rest and/or sleep before pushing. In fact, I’m not sure that I fell asleep at all.

Around 11:00 p.m. I felt like...well, like I had to poop. I told the nurse and she said that that was a signal that we could begin trying to push. My husband shot straight out of the hospital recliner and came by my side. I remember my dad stopping by the room to check on me and I told him, “We’re going to start pushing soon. He’s almost here.” He smiled with a thumbs up and quietly stepped back out into the waiting room.

I was lying in a semi-reclined position on my back. Cara was on my right, Sam was on my left and the nurse was at the edge of the bed. She coached Sam and Cara in how to hold my legs to assist while another nurse was paging the doctor. Then I pushed for the first time.

Nothing really happened, but I felt relieved that I was able to push. The epidural was working well. I couldn’t feel anything but the pressure and urge to push. And, thankfully I was able to push as I felt like it.

I tried pushing on my back for a little while longer, but the baby’s heart rate was dropping too low so they helped me turn on my side, and I tried pushing there for awhile. This part is kind of fuzzy. I flipped from side to side pushing for a long time and that’s really all I can remember. At one point, the nurse said that she could begin to see my son’s head, so we were making progress.

After 2 hours of pushing, the attending doctor came in and assessed the situation. She suggested that I wear an oxygen mask and go back to the semi-reclined position on my back. The epidural was still working, but I was beginning to feel a little bit more. And really, I was grateful for it. There was a button that I could push any time I felt like I was feeling too much and needed an extra boost of the medicine, but I decided not to push it. I wanted to feel the progression of the pushes and meet my son as soon as possible.

Over the course of the next 20 minutes, I pushed. Everybody kept saying that he was getting closer. That they could see his head. The doctor asked if I would like a mirror. I declined. I was afraid that it would distract me from concentrating on pushing. The next few pushes, I pushed with everything I had. The doctor said that he was almost here, but I was feeling discouraged that after 2 ½ hours of pushing that he wasn’t already here. She said, “Reach down and feel his head.”

I did. I felt the soft, wet, warm head of my son. He had hair! I knew I could do this. I had to do this. I pushed again and out his head came. The hardest part of the pushing was over as the rest of his little body slipped out. I heard him cry. They brought him to my chest immediately. He was here. Labor was over. I was a mother. Sam was a father. We were a family. My best friend was still right by my side telling me how proud she was of me, crying with us and loving with us. I thought that my heart might explode, it was so full of love. This was the hardest thing and the most rewarding thing that I’ve ever done in my entire life.

Jack was born on October 7, 2015 at 1:22 a.m. He was 7 pounds 14 ounces and 19 ½ inches long. He was perfect. Beautiful.

After an hour of skin-to-skin time with me, the nurse did a few of the newborn routine tests and stats. I looked over as she laid him down on the scale, and he started to cry. Sam was over there, too, and he started saying, “It’s okay baby boy.” Almost immediately, Jack stopped crying. He knew his dad’s voice. It was amazing.

The family members who remained that late into the night came in briefly to see Jack and to say congratulations. Then, they took off and said that they would see us tomorrow.

After some time in the delivery room and after I met the requirements to be able to move, we gathered our belongings and headed upstairs to the mother-baby unit. And then the beginning of a brand new life for us began. Our first night as a family.

Jack is now almost 3-weeks old. His presence in our lives thus far has brought us immense joy, happiness, and hard challenges. As we continue our journey into parenthood I plan on sharing my struggles and joys with you along the way.

If you’re still reading this, thank you for taking time to read my story. I’d love to hear yours.

Jill

Fitness is the New Feminism

I'm sitting in the bathroom stall next to Jen Sinkler having a buddy pee. We had somehow gotten on the topic of whether or not she and Dave will have kids someday. It must have had something to do with my growing bump. Suddenly, I blurt out the dirty little secret I've been carrying around with me since the day I danced around in my bathroom with my husband holding a pee stick with two lines:

"I'm afraid I won't be able to have it all."

I want to work and stay at home. I want to sit in the stands at Little League games and run bootcamps in the park. I want to travel for work and volunteer in my kids' classroom. I want to have a career and support my children's interests.

And I'm just not sure that I can do it all at once all of the time. It will take balance. It will mean making priorities. It will mean missing out sometimes on things that are really important to me.

Will I have enough ME to go around? Will I make the right choices? Can I live a life worthy of my mother's burning bra?

I'm not sure that my mom would have ever considered herself a feminist, but it was never even a question for her whether or not she would work. Of course she would. Women had fought hard for their place in the workplace. My mom ran a childcare center, which may seem like women's work, but it was incredibly important to her not only to develop creative, compassionate children, but to create a space for mothers to leave their precious children so that they could go out into the world and thrive. My mom's very existence helped doctors, lawyers, counselors, bankers and many more women venture out into the workplace knowing that their children were getting the best care possible. Despite all this, I never really thought of my mother as "empowered" growing up. Despite her amazing work and contribution to society, it was always my perception that my mom was wracked with insecurities. My mom never seemed to feel comfortable in her body. I grew up knowing that it was "women's work" to feel bad about her shape.

In my opinion, Feminism has not reached its mark if most women still feel bad about themselves.

You don't have to look very far to notice that women are asked to be less, taught how to be "worthy" and asked to play small in our society.  Eat less. Weigh less. Wear less. Be less. Our playing small does not serve society! Until we can learn to spend more time thinking about how to find our passion and flow in life and less time thinking about the size of our thighs, we will need to keep having these conversations. Until we can do this, we need Feminism like we need a heartbeat.

I grew up feeling like I was always too much. I was the tallest, widest girl in my ballet class. I slouched to appear smaller. I apologized for myself constantly. I poured myself over the fashion magazines and prayed that I would wake up smaller, skinnier, less. I fantasized about taking a vacuum cleaner to my fat until I was cleansed of all signs of cushion and cellulite. I felt like boys who dated me were doing me a favor. I constantly compared myself to other women, hating them silently. It never occurred to me to just love myself anyway.

Jen Sinkler once asked, "What would happen if women were all just unapologetically strong?"  What if, indeed! What if we just decided to love ourselves right now, with all our imperfections?  What if we decided to really embrace the unique things that we have to offer the world without shame?

Fitness is the vehicle that I use to really embrace my own power and love myself thoroughly. Fitness is my new feminism.

Strong on the Inside and Out

Something pretty spectacular happens when you start to lift weights.  I've seen it in myself and in my clients. You start to get stronger and suddenly you start to have more confidence in your body.  This body confidence becomes a habit and you start to really feel more confident in your whole self! What might have started off as a way to lose weight or get rid of some knee pain has quickly turned into a way to personally believe in yourself enough to find other ways to challenge yourself.

When I started to get serious about lifting weights I decided to start competing in the Highland Games. I made this decision despite the fact that I had no experience in the sport and even less athletic talent. But I believed in myself. I was willing to put myself out there. I knew that no matter how I placed (which ended up being 2nd in my first competition and then 1st in my second) that my experience there had value.

The other thing that happened when I started to lift weights was that I started to write. I started to believe that I had something worthy to say that could actually help people. My confidence in my body had turned into just plain confidence.

Power in Numbers

When I look around my life I am giddy about how many amazing women I have connected with. Gone are the days of feeling competitive with other women. It is within these female friendships that I have found an enormous amount of strength! We lift each other up. We promote each others' businesses. We encourage each other to be our best selves. When you truly love yourself and have confidence in yourself it is so much easier to love and support others.

My fitness friends are not only committed to helping women find strength on the outside, but on the inside as well. We are committed to self-love and body image because we know that as long as we as women feel "less" we will never really be able to show up and take a seat at the table next to men.

My fitness friends believe in the unique value of female traits. We do not have to aspire to be like men in order to claim power. We need to embrace ourselves as we are. We are not strong for being girls. We are just plain strong.

Do It!

Being fit and getting strong is such a gift to me because it helps me stop looking in the mirror with my list of complaints and start doing. My life cracked open when I started to value the things that my body could DO, not just what it looked like. Can I carry all of the groceries inside in one trip? No problem. Can I get down on the ground to play with my son? Sure! Can I chase my husband up a hill? You betcha! My body is extremely capable! It may not always look the way I'd like it to (hello pregnancy!) but everyday my pride in what I can do outshines my shame about how I think I should look. 

Deadlifting may not look like feminism to you (where is all of the marching and bra burning!?!) but it sure as hell feels like it to me. Each workout brings me more confidence, connects me to other fit and fabulous women and helps me appreciate myself for the strong, big and powerful woman that I am.

Cara

Three Steps to Getting Your Body Back After Baby

Two pink lines.  I could never imagine that such an innocent image could strike such simultaneous joy and terror in my heart.  And maybe this wasn’t my first thought, but I did think the moment I saw those two pink lines was, how will I ever get my body back?

Because everyone knows that pregnancy ruins your body.

I felt this overwhelming sense of losing control of my body. The cravings. The hormones. The curves.

How will it affect my training goals?

How will it affect my waistline?

Will I get stretch marks?

Will I be able to lose the weight?

Will I have to throw away all my jeans?

The first time I got pregnant I was most likely the leanest I have ever been.  Pre-pregnancy I ate meticulously clean. Each meal was carefully measured out. I ate fish, lean meats and lots of vegetables. Not a morsel of sugar or fat passed my lips without careful calculation. So, when I got pregnant I just thought, screw it! It seemed like an opportunity to let go of the dietary jail I was living in. Plus, I figured my body would be a goner anyway, so who cares?! I gained 70 lbs during that pregnancy. And I can tell you with certainty that the damage to my body, while significant, was much more insipid than the damage to my self-worth. I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. I felt guilty and betrayed. I was furious that an experience that brought such a beautiful being into my life had robbed me of my own beauty. It took me years to undo the damage that I did to myself during that pregnancy. I spent years trying to reign in my body. I spent hours in the gym. I went back to my strict diet only to indulge in donuts on the weekends. I obsessed about my pre-pregnancy body. Restriction and deprivation led to cravings and overindulgence. This cycle threw me down a path of self-loathing and despair. Finally, I found a way to find a balance in my training and my eating and my self-esteem.

Strength training helped me focus on what my body could do instead of constantly worrying about what my body looked like. I started to eat to perform instead of eating to look a certain way. I started to accept, and even like, what I saw in the mirror.

Here are the three steps I took to "get my body back" after having my son. I plan on implementing this same plan with this pregnancy.

 Step 1. Get on the Same Side as Your Body.

 For most of my life I have thought of myself as two separate things. My mind and my body.  This is ludacris. I am my body. It is my ultimate home.  I had lost a connection with my body. I was always trying to control it and punish it for being bad. I refused to listen to my body and it was affecting my health and my progress towards my goals. It was me vs. my body. This way of thinking leads to stress and fight-or-flight emotional reactions. I was in a constant battle with myself. I became an over-stimulated, stressed “victims” of my body and I stopped taking responsibility for my own health. I started to resent my body.  I sought to conform to a standard of beauty that does not belong to me. I had been in a habit of  idolizing bodies that are not natural. When we try to fit into shapes, sizes and looks that are unnatural for us we usually end up trying to rigidly control our bodies. Only when I got on my own side could I really move forward on a path to health, love and true beauty.

But what does it mean?

 Step 2. Let Go of the Idea of the Perfect Body.

I had to let go of my pre-pregnancy body. In reality, my shape, my skin, my hormones were all different now.  That doesn't mean that I don't have a chance at a body that I can be proud of. It just means that I had to leave my expectations at the door and stop longing for what I had or what other people had. I started to listen to my body. Instead of punishing my body by starving myself or spending hours on the elliptical I ate healthy, hearty, nutritious foods when I was hungry, I rested when my body needed it and I found ways to workout that I truly loved. I made decisions about food, exercise and rest out of love for my body…not hate.

I do not have a perfect body. And for the first time in my life I do not want a perfect body.  I want MY body. No, I will never look like I stepped out of a beauty magazine, but that’s okay.  If I don’t believe in the diversity of beautiful female body types, I’m constantly comparing myself to other women. I start wanting what they have. I get to wishing I was different. And that is exhausting!  What if I could just appreciate the beauty in others and myself?  We all have a unique strand of DNA so there is no point in chasing other people’s notion of an ideal body. Most of the images we see and compare ourselves to are airbrushed and/or unhealthy anyway. The more we try to fit unnatural stereotypes the more unhealthy we tend to be. We begin to lose the resources to help love ourselves.

I had to take some time and effort to re-learn to love myself and my body, stretch marks and all. I started to pick out things about myself that I thought were beautiful. I started to notice things that my body could do that were pretty amazing and my love for myself deepened. I learned to appreciate that there is not just one way to be beautiful.

 Step 3. Make Decisions Out of Love, Not Hate.

I found that if I could love myself unconditionally (RIGHT NOW!) that I could set goals and make changes to live a healthier life. It is incredibly hard to flip this switch.  For years I put off going to the pool because I didn’t want to see myself in a swimsuit. I would suck in my belly in the mirror. I would fantasize about sucking the fat out of my thighs with a vacuum cleaner.  How insane is that?  It was only when I really let myself love myself that I started to make decisions that were healthy and long-lasting. I realized that my body is precious, it is the only place I have to live in this life. I started treating it with the love and respect it deserved. I knew that every time I went to workout or sat down for a meal I either had the opportunity to hurt or heal my body.

These three steps have helped me live in the freedom of my choices and have helped me give myself grace.

Cara