I hate to jinx it, but I've been pretty fortunate the first half of my pregnancy. At over 23 weeks, I have not thrown up once, experienced bad acne or had any unmanageable pain. (Okay, I almost threw up after eating at Texas Road House, but that wasn't pregnancy related. My advice is don't eat there, even if your dad has a gift card.)
People ask if I'm still training and the answer is no, but I haven't trained for anything since the summer of 2010. Am I working out? Yes. The pool is the one place I don't feel like a lumbering bear. The extra buoyancy is actually helpful. Once I sprint past the full-length mirror and actually get into the water, I don't even feel pregnant. Magic.
Yoga has also been a regular part of the routine, mostly because it keeps me sane mentally. I've found a couple good DVDs to do at home, which is nice for when I fall over. Some of the prenatal moves are pretty amusing. I told Husband he might actually like the workout, just skip the kegels and hip rolls.
Sadly, this is the time of year I love to run and bike, but I can't. Which makes it difficult to drive by all the folks on the Trolley Trail. I want to yell at them, "I'm an athlete, too! I used to wear short-shorts and have strong, tan legs just like you!" A couple things keep me from actually doing this. One, they could care less. Two, I embarrass pretty easily. And three, the shorts weren't that short.
A neighbor commented to Husband that I did not appear to be enjoying pregnancy. My initial reaction was duh. My second reaction was how can he tell? Do I have a permanent grimace? I've tried to be positive when people ask how I'm doing, but maybe I'm not pulling it off successfully. I wish I loved being in this state - that I walked around glowing, hands constantly on my stomach. But I don't. My discomfort cannot be hidden.
Apologies to all who encounter me in the next four months. It's not going to be pretty.