I walked away from what I had worked toward for years.
After leaving the RKC, I felt such a loss of self. I walked away from what I had worked toward for years. I had gained strength and respect within the community. And then I turned my back on it. It was an alienating feeling. What was I going to do now? Were kettlebells still a part of me? What was I going to do? What was I going to do once my son came?
After a logical talk from good ol' Dad (because on top of it all, my husband was deployed to Afghanistan), I felt much better about my decision. This decision was something that I had thought over for at least a year before finally closing the door on it. (Unusual for me, because once I decide to do something, I do it and am done with it.) Dad reassure me that I hadn't lost the learning, I didn't lose myself, that it was all a part of my character building. He was proud of me for standing for something (there we're several reasons including business and personal for my leaving the RKC). Even now I can sigh a bit of relief after it all is said and done.
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Five months after that decision my husband returned from deployment. A month after his return, our #1 (and only) son was born. I trained and coached right up to the day before I went into active labor. My water broke at 3am, we made it to the hospital at 7am, and by 11 PM he was born! There we're some complications during labor and he had to go to the NICU. So, as soon as he was out, they whisked him away. I didn't even get to hold him. I was heart broken.
My husband went with him. When he returned, he said the Charge Nurse expected our son to be in the NICU for seven days. SEVEN DAYS?!?! It might as well have been an eternity. An hour later she came to tell me that he was doing better and should be out in three days. What seemed like an instant later, she came in to tell me that as soon as I could walk, I could go see him. So I did. I lost a lot of blood during and after labor. My nurse (thank God for nurses!!!) helped me to the restroom and as soon as I got there, I passed out. Stone cold. I had been able to muster the strength to get the 10 feet, but blanked when I got there. With a crack of smelling salts I was alive again, and once again I was determined.
Seeing my newborn under a dome and with tubes was incredibly painful. It's a sight still so fresh in my mind. It's something I've never been able to share until now. It's something that stays with you. This new little person was a fighter. He went from a 7-day stay, to a 3-day stay, to being able to go back with me after my visit to the NICU. Now the real work began.
The days after we brought him home we're hard for me. They tested my spirit and my soul. I went from independence to feeling locked-in. I went from excited to bring home our son, to being isolated. I swore that I wouldn't let my baby run my life; that when he was born, it would be a hiccup and my life would move on much the same.
No one tells you that in those few days and weeks after having your first baby, you have a lot of questions about your abilities, your capabilities, and who you are NOW. (I guess it's referred to as "baby blues.") I did a lot of soul-searching. Again, something I'd never really had to do until this new challenge. But this one was different, because it wasn't all about me. THAT was the hard part.
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