Bittersweet

And no, I'm not talking about the massive amounts of chocolate I consume on a daily basis. I am happy/sad because tonight is my last night to teach spinning to a class full of sweaty overachievers. A beloved pastime that has helped me, get a free gym membership, be paid to work out, fit into my wedding dress, and make grown men throw up (sorry hun, I told you it gets hot in there).

A few weeks ago I started feeling some mild discomfort down by my lady bits. Mild as described by me as, "Well, it feels like a fifth grader kicked me in the crotch with a muddy soccer cleat." Like how can you possibly describe to someone that the BONE behind your LABIA is aching? Really? The joys of pregnancy.

I mentioned my encounter with said fifth grader to my doctor at my appointment last week. He checked my cervical length (um, uncomfortable much?) and said that considering my medical history,two cervical ablations in the past three years, he was thrilled with a high, hard 4cm cervix at 26 weeks. He then said he wants to be extra careful with me and watch for preterm labor so we'll start biweekly internal exams.

As he was leaving the room he told me to take it easy, to which I replied, "So is it still okay if I teach my cycling class?"

and his head started spinning around and around and then when it finally stopped and he pushed his eyeballs back inside of his head he said this:

And you're STILL doing that?!? Why, my dear, didn't we START OUT this conversation with that information? Of course that is why you are having increased pain in that area.

He then told me it was up to me and my best judgment as to whether or not I would keep doing it and then added, "We're not trying to be an Olympic athlete here - we're trying to have a healthy baby."

So, I used my advanced skills in deductive reasoning to conclude that, tonight will be my last class.

I'm already thinking about how soon I can get back into that cycling room after this little babe is born, but I want him to stay inside where it's nice and roomy warm for three more months. I don't want to do a single thing that would jeopardize the development of my sweet baby boy. Because although I've said a million times that I want him to have the biggest blue eyes and chubby cheeks that you've ever seen on a wee lad...

I'd settle for a nice big pair of healthy lungs.