But it’s not that bad, I can still see my toes…when I lean forward a little.

It feels as though my belly grew an entire centimeter, its weekly “quota”, in one day and lately the baby has been sitting low. Yesterday I felt several punches (a guess) to my cervix and for most of today, the head (another guess) has been pressing against my bladder and I’ve felt like peeing all day.

Despite these discomforts, I went for a slow jog. I thought about not going, with my legs making low grumbles about rest. But they didn’t plea enough to stop me. It had been a few days since my last run and frankly, I was worried that if I didn’t get out today, the next time would be hard enough to discourage any more running for the rest of my pregnancy.

And that’s how it goes on. I consider that I might reach a point where running or riding my bike is too hard. But secretly hope that I’m able to keep these activities up until the day I go into labour. I’ve heard it’s possible…

It’s great to live in an age where many forms of exercise are known to be safe during pregnancy and in fact, encouraged. Even so, there are limits. Your body is going through a massive change and one way or another, your capabilities and the way you exercise will change too. It’s been a huge learning experience dealing with these changes, listening to my body and understanding my limits.

Or “negotiating” them as I sometimes think of it. Which discomforts and pains are okay? Which are not? When might exercise give me a boost of energy and mood? When is my body begging me to conserve energy for a baby growth spurt?

Pressure on the bladder, ligament pains, oddly shifting core muscles, shortness of breath, sore ankles, indigestion and heartburn, loosening joints, and more… These discomforts are caused by your increasing oxygen intake and blood supply, the extra pounds, a uterus expanding into the once roomy quarters of many other organs, and the relaxin hormone that “relaxes” your ligaments, musculoskeletal system, digestive track, and arteries so that your body’s flexible enough to do all its baby-making magic. Luckily, it doesn’t happen all at once. There are good days and bad days, as well as a different “phases” throughout the pregnancy.

Given all the above, and topping it off with morning sickness, sleep deprivation, anxiety, and a whole slew of other crap going on, I can totally understand how someone might completely retire from an exercise routine while pregnant. Heck, this week I noticed a cobweb spun off my road bike. And while contemplating a winter ski trip in the fall, in the end I decided ‘no’. The risk of an accident given my marginal skills and the consequence of injury were too high. A broken leg and this huge belly? Um, no thank you.

So while I hope that doctors, midwives, books, blogs, and all the other advice givers continue to encourage exercise and reassure women of the many activities they can do without hurting their baby, I also hope it doesn’t become another pressure. An addition to all the DO’s and DON’Ts compiled by those who like to establish standards for how you can control your child’s success and be the perfect mother. Hmm, I sense another topic starting so maybe I’ll wrap up…

My advice to myself if I decide to do this again: listen to your body. Find a balance between confidence in its abilities and strength and giving it the rest it deserves for all it’s doing.

Thirty-one weeks. I now understand why pregnant women are always rubbing their bellies, and it ain’t just for good luck.

Before the long weekend I was feeling a bit restless and sad that I had no adventures planned, especially with the weather forecast a row of golden circles. Under different circumstances I would have gone surfing with friends. But I presumed that at this point the beach ball between me and my board would be uncomfortable and I wouldn’t want to risk stretching out my wetsuit anyway.

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one staying in town and before I knew it, the three days off were full in the most enjoyable way.

Starting with sunset from third beach on Friday.

Colouring eggs with Marten & Julie. We discovered that you can indeed, with a dark enough dye, dye brown eggs with rich, intense results.

A trip to the garden store, fresh soil, a spring crop planted and further exploration of the many plants coming to life around the yard.

A passover potluck and my first matzah ball soup (I left my camera at home).

A wander around the Reifel Bird Sanctuary to see swallows back for summer…

…plenty of ducks…

…and the sandhill cranes.

Spring finally arrived and with a good hint of summer. It felt like a real turning point from my due date being in the distance future to the weeks being truly numbered. Which is a bit funny to say because they’ve been numbered since October, but now I can count them on my hands as long as I add a few toes.

It’s also when most people (if they didn’t have one in the first trimester) get their first and only ultrasound. It’s the chance to see proof that yes, there is a baby growing in there, and to find out the gender, though we decided to keep that a surprise.

I knew the images would be grainy and that it was possible I wouldn’t be able to tell the head from the bum, but my excited held. Finally, the day came and I was speechless as the technician passed her wand over my belly, clicking away on the screen to mark organs and take measurements.

I don’t know why, but it hadn’t occurred to me that the ultrasound would show movement. I guess that unless you’ve had one before, you’re most familiar with images, the snapshots, shared afterwards. But there it was, a little creature squirming around inside of me, its legs pedalling and arms paddling away, completely out of my control. It wasn’t only proof of our pregnancy, but a display of this life and all its complexities that will soon be added to our own.

I came home with a few snapshots and spent much time over the following days studying them, focusing on little things that stuck out to me and remembering how the baby kicked.

The round head, a fist, little toes.

Within a week, subtle signs blossomed into full-on pregnancy symptoms. My first trimester was characterized by nausea, frequent and strong hunger but no appetite, a heightened sense of smell, aversion to coffee-flavoured desserts, and the inability to sleep throughout the night but the need to sleep ten hours a day. Aaron likened me to one of those dolls with eyes that roll closed whenever you lay them horizontal.

Not being a puker, I think I had it pretty easy. Though it was still a huge change from life only weeks before. The capacity of what I could do in a day was halved and I had to consider: given everything of importance to me that requires some energy, what is most important? What should get my limited energy?

I figured these questions would be a common and necessary exercise once caring for a baby. But prior to being pregnant, I didn’t realize they’d be necessary so soon. I also didn’t know about the insomnia. People tell me to “enjoy your sleep now”. I laugh and tell them I’m in sleep deprivation training.

Every day of the first trimester came with the potential for exhaustion, nausea, anxiety, and so on. I wondered why pregnancy involved so much feeling like hell. At the same time, I was stupid excited to be having a baby. This combination made the weeks stretch on forever.

(Another thing I learnt: we usually talk about the 9-months of pregnancy and how many months someone’s along, but the real unit of time passing is weeks. Forty weeks in total and with every one you finish, you give yourself an imaginary star sticker.)

When I was 8 weeks pregnant, the 32 still ahead felt like a lifetime. Impatiently, I wanted to fall asleep and wake up 4 months later with a belly.

With loads of time before the due date and time spent too tired to do anything else, it was a great opportunity to tackle a big knitting project: a baby blanket (from this pattern if you’re curious).

Today, at 27 weeks and the beginning of the third trimester, this all seems ages ago. I’ve come to better understand why, as crappy as it could be, the first trimester was really important to go through. Not only was my body prepping for an immense physical undertaking, but there was so much to think about, learn, and get used to before the celebrated baby bump made its appearance.

A friend advised taking prenatal vitamins even before trying and at some point, I found myself at the drugstore with a pamphlet on folic acid in my hand. I put it back and left empty-handed.

A little later, I was at MEC picking up a few supplies for a trip and this onesie caught my eye (for obvious reasons):

Before I knew it and with lack of thought about a purchase unusual for myself, it was in my basket. I was buying something for my future, yet-to-be-born, child. Not only unborn but not yet conceived, not in existence, only an idea.

It was a little scary and I didn’t tell Aaron right away. It was also a little embarrassing. Was I getting ahead of myself? Being too presumptuous or impulsive? I hid the onesie in the back of my closet and thought about it for a month or so.

In that time I had not one shred of doubt – I really wanted to make and raise a child with Aaron. I also started taking prenatal vitamins. In a realm where I’m learning that “ready” is only an idea you fabricate for yourself, I felt positively ready.

A year ago today I landed in New Zealand to start a 5 week bike adventure. It was my third annual spring bike tour and what was becoming a great tradition, a carrot at the end of these rainy Vancouver winters. (Or perhaps a doughnut would be the more appropriate incentive?)

I thought about this a lot today while riding around under blue skies, a taunting taste of warmer days to come. Especially because this spring will be different – there will be no bike adventure. Instead, I’ll consider myself lucky if I can still ride a bike come May, what with the extra 20 lbs already, an estimated 40% more blood for my heart to pump through my body, and an ever-growing belly…

Yup, a totally different kind of adventure awaits this year. Some time in June, a tiny new human will join Aaron and I. I hear it will be crazy challenging, but immensely rewarding. (Hmm…sounds like some hills I’ve climbed.)

Now that that’s in the open, I hope I can write a little more about the experience and eventually, what bike touring and other adventures are like with the company of a baby.

So much growing and so many life-changing events happened in this home. I lived there for almost 4 years.

But all good things come to an end. Thankfully, often to make room for more good things. Knowing that within a year the home would be too small, we decided to move on. I didn’t expect it to be so soon, but a place with promise came up. It was a hard decision. Usually change excites me, or I’m fed up with where I am and ready to leave. But it was really hard to leave a place so comfortable and fitting.

We rolled our possessions three blocks down the hill, further east. I was scared but once I placed the first belonging, a houseplant, inside, I knew that we’d be able to make this a good home too. Every day of moving and unpacking reinforced that.

Almost settled now. I’m looking forward to new experiences as well as the same old experiences in a new light: mystery flowers to bloom in the spring, an apple tree, laying on the grass in a sunny backyard, north shore views from the bedroom window, sun in the kitchen, house guests, grandma visits, crosswords and coffee watching the weekend buzz outside…

Still, I will always miss the old home.

Actually, I had been wondering if I’d ever get back to posting given that these days, the stories and thoughts I feel like sharing might be better shared over tea.

Then my birthday came along. Aaron gave me a new camera, a fantastic camera, ordaining me as the family photographer – a position I happily accepted!

And with the new camera comes photos I want to share, even if they lack a written story.

The trail started by the Keenleyside Dam in Castlegar. For the first kilometre or so, you ride between the old rails but after that, it’s just a rail bed with a surface of varying condition.

We were on loaded touring bikes with beefed-up tires (I can’t remember the thickness, but thicker than my usual tires). I was worried the fatter tires still wouldn’t be sufficient for the reported loose gravel and sand sections. The first day was quite hard, but it got better further along the trail and as I became used to controlling a loaded bike again. Things became especially fun and easy at kilometre 50, when we reached the trail summit and started the gradual descent to Grand Forks.

On the way we rode by views like this:

Over old railway bridges:

(A woman we met told us that back in the day the bridges did not have railings. They’re so wide, I’m sure it’d be fine but still…eep!)

There were a few sections reclaimed by the elements. The trail once crossed here:

A good reason to check the Kettle Valley Rail Trail website for any washout or landslide notices beforehand. Luckily, a new path was created on the left. But without the friendly rail-grade, we had to portage our bikes and panniers down and back up the path’s very slopes.

We went through tunnels, as one should on a rail trail, including this kilometer-long tunnel…with a curve at the end…blocking out ALL LIGHT…for almost a kilometer. It was spooky.

Bring your headlamp.

Did I mention that James and Verena heroically brought 1-year-old Cassia along? She provided hours of entertainment with her smiles, giggles and five word vocabulary.

The five of us:

That photo was taken by Roy (I think that was his name…) who we at our first camp spot, next to the trail in a clearing where there was once a station. This wasn’t his first time on these rail trails and I was envious of his suspension and BOB trailer set up.

The second night we camped by a rambling creek and the third, next to the Kettle River:

A bit of a hike down the staircase with all the gear but worth the perfect campsite, a swim in the river and the silkiest sand I’ve ever set foot on in BC.

We ate delicious food, including a curry-off one evening. Aaron introduced me to the joys of his dehydrator and we (pre)made a lamb curry using this guy’s recipe. I highly recommend not using the 40 chiles he calls for. He must have had a very mild variety. I only used 4 small chiles and it was still pushing the limits of too spicy for me.

The dal that James made was incredible. I would have eaten seconds but that would’ve involved fighting Cassia for a share. We were all surprised at how much she loved it and her parents are quite happy that she already has a taste for curry.

On the fourth day of riding, we left the forests and entered a dryer, more desert-like climate as we transitioned from the Kootenays to the Okanagan.

Our end-point was in Grand Forks, not terribly far from Castlegar. Sadly, it was only a short trip, but the good thing is that we still have hundreds more kilometres of the rail trail to explore.