Bed rest. The worst two words a Fit Bottomed Mama could hear. And yet, these were the words coming out of my doctor’s mouth at just six weeks pregnant. But I was spotting. No, more than spotting—bleeding—and having lost a baby just four months earlier, my doctor wanted to be cautious.
But I hated him. Bed rest? How are you on bed rest when you have an active toddler boy? How are you on bed rest when you have dreams of running 5Ks pregnant and pushing your toddler in his stroller? And bed rest for the rest of my first trimester? Six more weeks?
I can’t do it. I won’t do it. I don’t want to do it. Why? Vanity. I don’t want to gain as much weight this pregnancy as I did the last one. I am not working a 12-hour-a-day desk job this pregnancy; I can be up and at it and moving and not packing on the pounds. I can keep my running goals and my racing hopes and avoid the thighs my first pregnancy brought me. I am selfish. My new little baby is having trouble taking hold and all I can think about is the size of my thighs. I am crazy. My thighs can wait. But what about my son? We walk to the park every morning, we run around all day, we never watch TV, and he needs activity! My husband said, “Honey, he is already here, he is alive, he got a chance; this baby needs a chance.” But I don’t want to do it, I don’t want to stay home for six weeks in bed except to go to the bathroom or shower, but here is my doctor saying it, and my body’s light bleeding with each movement seconds his opinion.
I survived that six weeks and am now seven months pregnant and no longer on bed rest. I was not able to keep running throughout this pregnancy. My thighs are not as slim as I’d like, but my husband always reminds me that I’m growing a baby. I do still work out, just not as hard or as much as I had wanted. I walk, I do videos and I count down the days until I can run again—this time with a DOUBLE STROLLER. Bed rest is a mental, physical and emotional battle. Read on for just a few things I learned that help me survive bed rest.