{Originally posted on Fitness For Mommies}

A silly post for all the things I’d like to see invented for the active, athletic mom that I am.

1. I am an avid exerciser and need to wear my heart rate monitor when I run. HOWEVER, I always get nasty welts/blisters/chaff burns from the combination of the strap and the jog bra. The bra must be moisture-wicking, BOMB proof, and does not chaff my arm holes either. As yet, my best bra (CW-X extra Firm hold) does not solve the HR monitor strap problem.

2. A cup holder for my Mountain Bike. We do a lot of riding around town on the weekends and I’d surely would appreciate a way to cruise home with my speciality drink held securely on my bike. No spillage allowed.

3. Flash cards. I need flash cards that are laminated, BOMB proof (nobody can destroy them) for weight training. I have the equipment, I can carve out the time, but, I need routines written down and illustrated for me. Something I could grab and go do! Preferably the cards would come with multiple routines with various levels from beginner to advanced.

4. A DateBook. I need a datebook that has a calender, blank pages to write down all the food I put in my mouth, tracking of my workouts, as well as space for grocery lists, to do lists, etc.. It needs to be stylish looking on the outside- but very functional on the inside.

5. Stylish clothing for bike commuting that are also incredibly functional. My Lole top worked great today because I realized it had a pocket in the back for my cell phone. However, my really cute skort shorts were too short underneath- which lead to my inner legs to rub on the saddle- ouch!

{Originally published by ConverseMomma on Ordinary Art.}

When I was having the first of three miscarriages, sitting on the couch stuffing ice cream in my mouth, and sobbing at all the EPT commercials on television, a bloody maxi pad tucked between my legs, I got a phone call from someone close to me. She was pregnant, young, scared, and about to have an abortion. She wanted me to console her. She wanted me to wrap my arms around her and rock away the regret. I remember wanting to slap her. Instead, I spoke calmly through clenched teeth. I told her it was going to be okay, assured her that I loved her, even as I felt the soft spots of my heart, that once she had claimed, hardening against the impact. It was not fair of her, of me, of circumstance. But, this is how it was.

Two miscarriages, an oncologist office, and a handful of “experts” later, they told me I would never be a mother, not in the traditional sense that I had always imagined when I was young and reckless with the way I used my body. Instead, I pinned my hopes to adoption, on an 18 year-old girl. She wore a tiny bikini the weekend that we met, and swam beside me in the hotel pool. She just knew she could never have an abortion, not with all those couples eager and waiting. She wanted, instead, to give a gift. I thought about her capacity for bravery, and all I could do was hug her, go back to my hotel room, and cry.

When my son was born, and the nurses called me Mommy, the woman who carried him for nine months and pushed him out into this world, lay weary in her bed beside us. The beginnings of her loss were already creeping across the hospital room. I just could not see it. I did not think her choice was anything but noble, me being on the receiving end of it. We celebrated with popsicles sticks that left our fingers sticky and blue, and I tried not to see the way her mother had to hold her up, her unsure legs too shaky for the long walk to the parking lot, unassisted. In the months that went by, her grief only grew. It became something large and imposing, threatening the fragile bonds that we had established all those months that she had been convinced the choice would be an easy one, but turned out never to be. My son is a gift she gave me, but at what cost to herself? That is the question left unanswered between us.

I did not want to acknowledge the loss. I just wanted the simple celebration that I thought should be my right as a new mother. For a long time, I was so thankful for my son’s birthmother’s decision that every time I heard the word abortion I considered it a slight against the blonde-haired child that I held in my arms, and sang lullabies to against the backdrop of silence, in the nursery with the walls I had painted in blue. I felt abortion was a kick straight to the empty damaged uterus that I carried inside my body. How could a woman be selfish enough to have an abortion when adoption was an alternative, when couples waited years to fill their homes with the pitter patter of little feet, when my son was alive and growing strong because of his birthmother’s choice?

{Originally published on The Belly Project.}

***

***

59 years old, 1 pregnancy (baby given up for adoption 40 years ago)

***

22 years old, 0 pregnancies

{Originally posted on Schmutzie.com}

Over one year later, I am still discovering the shape of my grief over the loss of my uterus.

I miss a thing I could never see. I have no documentation of its existence. It does not show up in family photo albums. My clothing fits as it did before the surgery. I never touched it with my hands. I cannot trace its outlines in pictures or where it is no longer on my body.

The only evidence that it was ever here is a pregnancy test that I keep pushing to the back of the bathroom cupboard behind the cleaning supplies.

I do not like that it was cut up into tiny pieces and vacuumed out of me. I do not like that it became medical waste. No part of any body should be made into medical waste. Our bodies hold far too much power, far too much meaning, to be so degraded.

I am angry that I could not take it with me, that I could not find my own place to put to it to rest. I hate not knowing where its pieces are. I imagine it having its own sapling beneath which it could rest and feed its growth. I need to imagine it being less alone.

The shape of this grief is little more than a chronological line between two points, from there to here. It has yet find its flesh.

{Originally published on SUSIEJ}

At my annual check-up this week, my doctor pulled out that little stick, drew the blood like a vampire and certified that I am low in iron levels; a major contributor for my exhaustion. So, together, we worked out a plan of foods, herbs and supplements she approved of, to help me feel energized and happy.

So far, I’ve emailed portions of this list to many friends, other tired women who say the same thing, “I’ll do anything to feel better.” And they mean it.

We’re sick and tired of walking around exhausted, while our kids are running circles around us. So here, is the list, hammered out with the help of my doctor, to bring my energy levels back up to normal. My favorite? The greens… instant energy in a powder. Another benefit — it makes me feel full, so I end up eating less. Enjoy!

1. Herbal Teas: Anemia (low-iron levels in the blood) is common among women, with side affects of fatigue. Your doctor can preform a blood test to find out if you have this or not. If you learn that you are low in iron, one safe way to restore your iron levels — and energy — is through teas made from the following roots; now widely available at whole foods. These herbs are the roots of yellow dock, burdock, dandelion, and Chinese wild yam. Gather a teaspoon of any or all of these dried herbs, and pour boiling water on top, cover and let steep overnight. Strain and drink.
2. Greens: Sometimes, the last thing we need is another supplement; what we really need is healthy nutrition. None of us eat enough greens, yet their full of vital minerals and vitamins. Greens Plus, is a powder that you mix with water or juice, and it provides you with the benefits of greens in one drink. Don’t even bother with the chocolate-flavored powder- it’s horrible. Berry is a much better alternative; but don’t get me wrong, the stuff is not going to be one of your most favorite-tasting beverages; but like most Moms I’ve talked to have said, “I’ll drink anything to feel better.”
3. Carrots: Carrot juice also assimilates iron quickly in your blood stream. Carrot soup, or a vegetable-based soup of carrot and beets, will increase your iron levels naturally.
4. Watch the Tea: Black tea, my favorite bevereage, unfortunately does slow down the absorption of iron. So monitor your intake. So, instead of making yourself another cup of tea in the afternoon, make your self a drink of greens plus.