Birthing & Bodybuilding - Is There A Similarity? Not Really.

On a cold, wet and windy Friday night in June 2002, Rob & I made our way to the Auckland Hospital for me to be induced with our first baby. We had read every book and magazine we could so that we would be prepared for this birth, and subsequently  it took Rob three trips to and from the car to the ward. Among our treasures were; my own pillows for comfort, books for a little night reading before sleep, hot water bottle for the lower back niggles, a DVD player so that I could play my fav tunes will breathing through labour, a few changes of clothing for obvious reasons, fluffy slippers so the tootsies didn’t get cold, a bag of baby gear, and a large plastic container containing fair dinkum salami sandwiches – loaded with garlic and chilli – for me to munch on post-baby. Laugh if you will.

We arrived on the ward at about 7.30pm and the midwife suggested she have a little ‘look’ at how I was progressing. Her version of ‘look’ and my version of ‘look’ were obviously worlds apart!! I thought ‘looking’ meant with eyes!!! Little on the naïve side I was.

However, due to her little ‘look’ (still feel indignant every time I think about it!!), I got an immediate pain that had me thinking labour had started. Prior to that moment, I was 10 days overdue and hadn’t had a single indicator that this baby wanted to come out. So that first pain came at about 8pm and the second wave at about 8.01.30s. Rob actually gave me the impression that he thought I was making it up. Luckily for him the next contraction took away my ability to tell him what I thought of his diagnosis.

Yes, it was labour. Yes, it hurt like bloody hell. No, I didn’t say a word – I am a silent sufferer which I think would shock a few people. I thought lots and lots of bad thoughts, but the pain took my ability to verbalise it away. No problem for Rob and the midwife...who merrily watched the soccer world cup while I was literally dying of pain! Oh yessiree bob - I had a few dark thoughts popping around the old drug-free head!! But nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could prepare me for Phase 2 of the operation. Without getting too graphic, it was the pushing phase. It lasted 6minutes and consisted of three pushes. While I was constantly told how “lucky” I was that it was short – I can tell you that the Chinese burn (in a place where Chinese burns shouldn't occur) felt nothing like how I would describe ‘lucky’. I felt anything but lucky!! Thank god it was so quick. And I did thank Him!

So in exactly 2hrs and 6mins, my baby girl came into the world and I would love to say that I forgot all about the pain the minute she was put in my arms. But that wouldn’t be true. It still smarted! And the shower helped a little but not a lot. By the time I was settled into the baby ward in a shared room, I was still feeling a little sorry for myself. Rob had gone home to smoke cigars and drink port (which shitted me terribly!!), and I was incredibly alone. “Aha”, I thought. “Time for the salami sandwiches!!” I have mentioned before that nothing (NOTHING) stops me from eating haven’t I? If anything was going to do it, it would have been the fact that I had endured intense labour and I was honestly scared that if I stood up, my insides might fall out. TMI? Too bad! That’s the truth.

So I tried to figure out a way to get to my salami sandwiches without moving anything from the waist down. They were carefully placed in cling film, in a plastic container, in the bedside table – just out of my reach. Three other women and their babies were asleep and the right thing to do would have been to wait until morning to stuff my face. But I simply couldn’t! I was fantasising about the meat and bread and couldn’t sleep through the food dreams. So I wriggled to the edge of the bed and reached as far as I could to grab hold of the cabinet handle and gave it a pull. Yes! It was on wheels and rolled nicely fo rme. Somehow I manoeuvred the whole cabinet over to the bedside and tried my best to be quiet as I unwrapped my goodies …..Maybe I even had a sly giggle at my little achievement. But alas, as I unwrapped the sammies, the intense smell of garlic escaped the container and fair whacked me in the face! The whole room seemed to immediately reek of garlic and chilli and cold meat and I was convinced that the nurses would come running and the babies would wake up. So I guiltily and quickly wrapped them back up, slammed the lid on the container and shoved them back into the cabinet. And spent the rest of the night dreaming of processed meat sammies – how life has changed.

Anyhow, that’s not my point. My point comes soon. Just stay with me for goodness sake – and keep up!

Around about 15 months after that June night, it was a nippy little October day in 2003. I was pacing up and down our little cul-de-sac road, wondering if the aching back meant labour had started. I decided to ring Rob and I told him that the midwife reckoned I was already 8cm dilated. Rob then announced to the whole lunch table of police dog handlers, “it’s Kirsten and she’s 8cm dilated’. I heard a few naughty little jokes about whistling and what-have-you, but I wasn’t in the mood for laughing at that stage. So I waited for Rob and we eventually headed to the hospital.

Again a little ‘look’ was necessary – but I was prepared for what that entailed this time!! Again, it was pretty much exactly 2hrs of back-breaking labour Phase 1, before it became obvious that Phase 2 was scarily near. Here is where my point is in case you are wondering; When it came time to push this baby out, I climbed onto the bed and literally back-wheeled my way up to the top, jammed both legs tightly together and broke my silent suffering to yell out, “No! No! No! No! No!” The memory of baby #1’s arrival came flooding back in an instant!! And the pain associated with it was swimming in front of my eyes. I couldn’t believe that I was in the same position …and had gotten there somewhat voluntarily!!! So the midwife yells at Rob “Grab her leg!!”, and they both manhandled me down the bed and my beautiful Tyler was born some 8mins later. Maybe a slight exaggeration on the manhandling but hey, it’s my blog and I’ll write it the way it felt!

The pain was intense - by gosh it was! But I was way better prepared this time and I made sammies sans garlic and I scoffed them while still in the labour suite. Did I mention that NOTHING takes away my appetite???!!! Damn it!!

How the heck is she going to relate this back to bodybuilding, you ask? Easy. As follows;

The Hell Weeks leading up to the competition, where carbs were at an all time low (in fact all food groups were at an all time low!!), and cardio was high, and the weights were still in there, and the posing was awful, and work continued, and my kids still fought, and husband still made untimely demands…well, that period of time was simply awful!! It had some highs, but predominantly I felt like I was in survival mode. And the pain of hunger is horrible. I wasn't prepared and I couldn't begin to imagine how hard it was all going to get.

And then the comp arrived and the world was at peace. I was soaring on a huge high and I didn’t ever want to come down. And then life returned to ‘normal’ and training has been incredibly exciting this time around.

But I know that ‘baby #2’ is coming around the corner – if you get my drift. I absolutely know that the pain is yet to come. And it will come flooding back in an instant when the first hunger pains hit, while the energy in the workouts fail to fire. And I can almost hear my daughters comments…”Mummy – how come you don’t eat with us anymore”, to which I would answer in my head – “you’ve got no idea baby! Mummy simply doesn’t eat anymore – bwahahahaha" (insert evil cackle)” I exaggerate once more but you know what I mean.

It’s January 1 that has brought this all to the forefront because it was exactly one year ago today that I announced to anyone who would listen that I wanted to compete for the first time. So I decided today would be the logical day to start tightening up the nutrition in anticipation of the next comp arriving in about 16 weeks. But alas, Sammy has informed me that it’s too early. That my nice padded appearance is perfect for now and we shouldn’t change a thing quite yet.

Have to admit that it’s thrown me a little. While diets hurt, they are a nice little control-box for me to sit in. It’s easy. Eat what I’m told, when I’m told and don’t deviate. Being left somewhat to my own devices for a while longer is much harder on my poor decision making skills. But I’ll do as I’m told and won’t back off yet.

As for training, it’s fantastic! I’m lifting heavier than I have, and I can’t stop the intensity! I just love it! And having a few other ladies around who are also competing has done wonders for firing up the enthusiasm even more – even though I’m fairly enthusiastic as it is.

So the most important things on my mind right now are the bikini colour, dark hair or light, and a down-do or up-do? Life is bloody good this month! I’m as happy as can be and feel very grateful for what 2013 will bring. I know it will bring change. And I’ll discuss that as it happens. Stay tuned.

Oh yes, just by the by, the memory of baby #2 dulled a little over time (took a lot longer the second time around!), and five years later I ventured down the birthing path once again. And it was 2hrs 5mns, drug free, baby facing the wrong way, hurt like bloody hell, Chinese burn once again - and I chased it up with seafood this time! Older, wiser, and less caring about how it all smelled - hehe!!!