Diastatic

As many of you know, I have been suffering from lower back pain for the past few months, and from sciatic pain on and off since my first pregnancy. I've tried everything from rest to massage to exercise, and nothing has relieved the pain. Exercise only made it worse, so my frustration about the pain was compounded by my lack of ability to reduce my stress through exercise. I became an immobile ball of stress.

A few weeks ago, at my first chiropractor visit, I was told I have diastasis recti. This came as no surprise, having birthed two behemoths. What did surprise me, after some research, was the correlation between the diastasis and all of my other symptoms: lower back pain, pelvic pain when running, sciatica. Basically, the muscles designed to hold me together were falling apart themselves.

Diastasis recti, before rehab and after

A friend referred me to The Tummy Team in Camas, WA, a group that specializes in diastasis rehab. I read their website, front to back, and decided it was worth their exorbitant fee to possibly feel better. I made a series of appointments with Kelly Dean, the founder and physical therapist.

My first appointment last week confirmed by belief that I'd done the right thing. The entry of the office in Camas has a store dedicated to new and expecting moms, complete with nursing supplies and natural maternity-care items. It didn't have the clinical environment I'd feared. Kelly walked out soon after I arrived and greeted me. After some initial paper work, we got started.

Kelly assessed my diastasis to be 2 fingers wide at top, 3 in the middle, and 3 down low. Basically, like a zipper that was only zipped down to my sternum. That meant she could essentially push into my internal organs with most of her hand, as the muscle was no longer there to stop her. I gasped at the size of the opening, but Kelly assured me it was not bad--she'd seen up to 10 fingers of separation (!!).

Self portrait

As a result, my upper body is essentially disengaged from my lower body. The "girdle" provided by the transverse abdominals was weak and not functioning, causing my body to behave like one of those inflatable promotional things at car dealerships. My pelvis and lower body is literally clinging to my upper body, using other muscles to try to hold it in place. I slouch when I sit because I have nothing holding me up. Enter, back and hip pain.

The first thing Kelly did was tell me to forget everything I'd learned about ab exercise. Crunches, planks, everything that caused those external ab muscles to contract, were useless and did nothing to strengthen the muscles that really mattered--the transverse abdominals. And crunches in my condition basically mean pushing my internal organs out of the wide opening in my muscles. Appetizing, eh?

Kelly then showed me simple things to engage the transverse without taxing my other muscles--ways to get into and out of bed, carry the kids, etc. I learned strengthening exercises to practice throughout the day while sitting up (straight) at my computer.

I also received an abdominal splint, which is basically a new-school girdle designed to make me conscious of how I go through my day. I can no longer lean over to pick up the kids; I have to use my legs to crouch. Hunching over my desk is out of the question.

So far, I can say I have no back pain, but then I haven't done much to test it out. I have 3 weeks until my next appointment, during which I will increase the strengthening exercises. While I may not have a six-pack at the end of these 5 sessions, I will have a core that can support my workouts and daily life. I am OK with that; I threw my bikini out after the second kid, anyway. ;)

Remastering the Master

I am stressed and exhausted. Like, all the time. Having 2 young children and 2+ jobs will do that to a woman.

Our house is also stressed and exhausted. It's in a constant state of chaos--the ever-present laundry basket full of clean clothes, the myriad trucks on all surfaces, and the Cheerios. So many Cheerios. I no longer look forward to going home. It's a place of anxiety, not a sanctuary.

So I have decided to carve out a little place of peace. One untouched by humans under 5 feet tall.

Our bedroom is probably the least chaotic place in the house, as it is, but it just isn't cozy. Sure, we have the nice Cal-king-sized bed, matching furniture, and decent lighting, but I want to feel as though I am visting a bed and breakfast on the coast when I finally retire to bed. To me that means lots of whites and blues/greens, fluffy pillows, and reading nooks that may or may not ever be used but would look darn good on the pages of HGTV magazine, my new favorite mag.

My first order of business is to try out some paint colors. The walls are currently a beige color, with off-white ceilings. I ordered paint samples from Home Depot, based on extensive online research of possible palettes, and on advice from my color-genius mother. They should arrive soon. Here they are (it just occurred to me how green these are--was hoping for more blue). The purple would be an accent color; don't panic, Bill.

Starbucks Reflections

I was kicked out of my house by the housekeeper, so here I am at Starbucks, listening to the usual 11:48am-on-a-Wednesday chatter.

Overheard:

• Man coughing, productively and constantly, behind me
• Well-dressed, society-type women wearing "Yes on 79" pins, talking politics (does anyone know what measure 79 is?)

Witnessed:

• The line going the WRONG WAY. You get one novice in here and the pros have no choice but to follow.
• Obese man sitting in car outside of window eating fast food. Sad.

That is all for now.

UPDATE: Obese man just came in to order a cinnamon roll. Where is Michelle Obama when we need her?

And So It Begins

Judging by the scale this morning, my wonderful post-surgery-and-other-ailments weight loss has come to a screeching halt. Well, it's probably been more of a rolling stop, considering I haven't weighed myself in weeks (too busy eating cookies and drinking beer).

Something like this

The good news is, a visit to the chiropractor yesterday inspired me to make some changes. I went in with back pain that radiated down my leg and around the front of my hip, causing me to have trouble walking and lifting heavy things, like my children. The chiropractor discovered four things:

• Apparently, I put 70% of my weight on my right side. Who knew? 
• I likely have inflammation in my hip sockets, also mostly on my right side.
• My ab muscles are separated, thanks to pregnancy.
• My posture sucks (I should have listened to my dad).

The doctor (?) gave me a couple exercises to do to strengthen my hip, and prescribed more water and acupuncture (clearly, a holistic approach) to make me generally healthier. And, as is par for the course for chiropractice, I am going back to see him next week to continue working on my decrepit frame.

I live vicariously through Flickr (OBX, 2007).

What all of this is caused by, we don't know, but I don't think my increase in weight and decrease in (read: complete lack of) muscle tone is helping matters. Evidently, I am not 25 anymore. When did that happen?

All of this leads to the point of this post: I need to shape up. More important than weight loss right now is my overall health, which I am hoping will lead to weight loss, but I am willing to accept that my pre-pregnancy figure may never return.

Unfortunately, my back pain means my usual activities (particularly the high-impact ones, like running) may be tough going for a while until I get my core strength back. I am looking for activities that will help me regain that strength, and I know many of you are thinking, "duh, yoga," but this lady has little time for such expensive frivolities, as beneficial as they may be. If those same people who are thinking yoga is the ticket want to come over and babysit, please let me know!

Coupled with my poor strength is a diet that is lacking in, well, a lot. Sure, I am lacto-ovo-pesco vegetarian, which on the surface sounds healthy, but *technically* banana bread from Starbucks is vegetarian, as is 2 lbs of pesto pasta.

I am also beginning to face the fact I have a sugar addiction (mmmmm Safeway cookies), so I aim to cut that out almost entirely. No, I won't cut out those "hidden sugars" like those found in pasta sauce--I don't have time to read labels that closely--and I have no intention of giving up my beloved beer, but I think I can do without the daily pastry.

So you heard it here first: Meg is on a mission toward better health. If any of you sees me at Starbucks ordering banana bread with my tall dark roast, please feel free to intervene. My decrepit frame will thank you for it.

Open Water Hijinks

Last weekend I completed the 1.3-mile Swim Across Suttle Lake. It was my first non-triathlon open-water "race," and it felt good knowing that I could spend all of my reserves on one sport rather than calculating how much to hold back.

Unfortunately, my tank was close to E when I started the swim. Sunday was the last day of our Central Oregon vacation, and I had just spent six days drinking too much beer and eating too few vegetables. To add insult to injury, J spent the week fighting a cold, extremely dry air, and budding teeth; she did not sleep more than 3-4 hours in a stretch, and neither did we.

Our canoe on the Suttle Lake shore, 2009

At 6:15 AM on Sunday, after 4 hours of sleeping on the couch to escape J's coughing, I joined my swimming cohort, Sarah, on the one-hour drive from Sunriver to Suttle Lake. We eyed the car thermometer with dread: 45 degrees. Sarah, sadly, did not have a wetsuit. I, sadly, did have a wetsuit, but opted for solidarity over common sense and left my wetsuit in Portland.

We jumped into the 68-degree water right before the 8 AM start, and in the spirit of non-wetsuit badassery, we dove in as the "gun" went off. After 5 minutes of fast swimming. trying to escape the fray and feel my limbs again, I settled into a good rhythm. The point we were told to aim for did not seem that far off. "I can do this," I thought.

That point never got closer. In fact, it seemed to get farther away. And I'd found the loneliest spot in the pack--100 meters behind the faster group, and 100 meters ahead of the slower group. I was swimming alone, I couldn't feel my feet, and the point seemed miles away. Not to mention my lower back was aching, thanks to extremely out-of-shape abs, thanks to two years of childbearing. But I digress ...

Fortunately for me, swimming is easier and less taxing than walking. I just slowed down and enjoyed the views, knowing that I would get there--it was just a matter of time. As the sandy lake bottom came into view, I anticipated getting vertical again. My somewhat-numb body, however, lagged behind my mind, and I stumbled a bit as I stood up to cross the finish line.

My finish time was around 50 minutes, though official results have not yet been posted. I estimated I came in 4th in the category, based on the number of ladies on shore without wetsuits. Not bad for my first swim, and considering two out of three of those women who beat me looked to be in high school, I was pretty proud of myself.

So, I'm pretty hooked. I'm eyeing the 2013 open-water season, and have an informal agreement with some friends to swim the Portland Bridge Swim as part of a relay team.

Back in the Not-So-Fast Lane

Who is that--Missy Franklin? No, that's just Meg gliding effortlessly through the water like someone half her age. It's hard to tell the two apart, really.

Ah, one can dream.

But seriously, my re-entry into the familiar world of Masters swimming 3 weeks ago was an easier one than I'd anticipated. I'd envisioned myself collapsing on the deck after 500 yards; instead, I managed to push through 2,000. I'd worried I'd have to be introduced to a whole new crew of swimmers; instead, I was warmly welcomed by a familiar crowd, who barely recognized me without a pregnant belly (there is something in that water, I swear).

Getting back in the pool has done worlds for me. Sports and exercise are such important aspects of my mental well-being that, up until a few weeks ago, I was starting to feel a bit depressed about losing the athlete in me. I am sure there are many moms who feel the same way--with pregnancy comes exhaustion and discomfort that makes exercise dreadful, and life certainly doesn't get any easier after the kids arrive. We become mom-bots, mothering all day and all night, leaving little room for sleep, let alone such luxuries as exercise.

But I have gained some perspective on the matter lately. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. I don't have to train for a half-ironman or break my PB in a 100-yard sprint to reap the mental health benefits of sports. I can bike to work a couple times a week and join my Masters friends for a good workout when I can. And if I am lucky, in a few years my kids will want to join me.

P.S. I'd like to give a shout-out to my husband, who has endured, without complaint, multiple chaotic dinners and bedtimes as a "single dad" while I swim in endless circles for an hour. You rock.

Pre-kid athletic luxuries, like multi-hour rides with friends,
have become a thing of the past.

Six Weeks of Misery

(Since I originally wrote this, 12 people senselessly died in Colorado. In light of this, complaining about a short run of minor health issues seems petty. I am grateful that my family is healthy and safe. My hearts go out to the victims and their families.)

Until 6 weeks ago, I'd never been a big believer in karma. But after three hospital stays and one slightly abbreviated fingertip, I am wondering what I did in this and my past life to deserve such a run of bad luck.

June 9, 2012

My appendix decides my body is no longer a welcoming host and takes the laparoscopic way out. I won't bore you with the details, as I wrote about it after the fact here. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the appendectomy marked the launch of Bill's career as Best Husband Ever ... PhD. 

June 27, 2012

I undergo surgery to deal with the damage my two behemoth children left behind, so to speak. Recovery was painful and longer than anticipated and, as prescribed after the appendectomy, I was not allowed to lift my heavy toddler for another 6 weeks. Bill's fledgling career as BHE is taken to a new level, thanks to a wife who can do little to help with childcare and spends a good part of her time doped up on pain medication.

July 10, 2012

Evil contraption

I decide, as an instructional designer, that I am too good for instructions and hastily employ the mandolin slicer to make some zucchini chips. Several slices in, I leave more than a zucchini chip on the cutting board. Bleeding and crying, I do my best to show my "mommy's fiiiine" face to my toddler, but he doesn't buy it. Back to the hospital (well, urgent care) we go.

Diagnosis: avulsion. Prognosis: 7-10 days to heal. Prescription: a bandage the size of my foot. Things to avoid: pools, hot tubs ... and dishes. I am now limited to lifting only my infant, and only with one arm, and I can no longer clean up after the dinner that Bill inevitably has to make because I am now terrified of sharp objects.

Bill is begrudgingly promoted to senior management.

July 13, 2012

We wake up prepared for our fun weekend with Bill's visiting family and my parents in Central Oregon. Bill has taken the day off to pack and get stuff done. Despite my aching finger, life is looking up. Then the niggling stomachache I'd been experiencing attacks with fury. So much fury that while Bill is dropping the kids at daycare, I call an ambulance because I couldn't get through to Bill's phone. I am sweating, shaking, and unable to move because of the pain. I begin vomiting. I spend 2 days in the hospital because I can't keep fluids or medicine down.

Diagnosis: colitis, gastroenteritis, and a urinary tract infection. Prescription: rest, antibiotics, and pain meds while in the hospital. Prognosis: 1-2 days to feel better. Things to avoid: "controversial" foods. Bill reaches the pinnacle of his career as he cares for our children (with the help of my parents) while I am gone, and misses the much-anticipated visit with his family.

If the appendicitis, avulsion, colitis, gastroenteritis, and UTI don't kill me, guilt will.

July 20, 2012

My amazing family

As I weigh the options for making it up to my husband (get your minds out of the gutter), I am also trying to glean a lesson from the past 6 weeks. My theory is that my body was worn out after endless months of just trying to get through the day, with two very young children, a terminally messy house, one regular job, and multiple freelance clients. My body threw up the white flag, subjecting me to lots of pain and frustration, but also hours of rest and recovery.

In light of this, I decided with a heavy heart to give up one thing that was draining me and causing me stress--pumping at work. I hate pumping and I dread it, but I also dread the day I have to stop breastfeeding completely. It was a hard decision to make, but something had to give. J still gets half of her nutrition from me, and I've accepted that that is enough, given the circumstances. I now relish my lunch breaks, which are mine and mine alone. 


So, thanks to my wonderful family for your support through this time. I am so lucky to have you. Here is to a 2012 spent far, far away from any hospitals (with the exception of visiting my sister's new baby!).