Q&A Thursday: Health Effects of Many Pregnancies

Here's a question for you and your friends who also have big families: Have you suffered any long-term/permanent physical problems because of so many pregnancies?

I myself have been very blessed with healthy pregnancies and if I were to answer this on my own, I'd probably say something like this:

Nope! Not unless you count a stomach full of stretch marks and the extra weight I've got hanging around. The stretch marks are definitely tied to the number of pregnancies, but that extra weight would probably have accumulated anyway because I like to eat.

But I was grateful to receive this question because I was curious what my friends' experiences have been with their multitude of pregnancies.

Melanie and her cute family

First, I should post a disclaimer. There are health problems that prevent women from conceiving and carrying a child to term. By virtue of the fact that all the women in my group have six or more children, we have largely avoided these problems. The gals who helped me answer this question are a unique group who have been able to have lots of children. That's not always the case with everyone, and we all want to be careful to note that just because we've been blessed to avoid any permanent health problems does not mean that will be true for all women.

In the course of our discussion the following points were brought up:

1. Our society views pregnancy as a medical condition or something that takes away from good health rather than as a natural, normal part of life. Hence, contraception is considered preventative care. All you have to do is read the comments on any newspaper article about Michelle Duggar to get a sometimes vulgar taste of this view. Since there are fewer and fewer women having lots of children -- .5 percent of women had seven or more children according to the last census -- multiple pregnancies are seen as unusual and scary. My friend Amy had this to say to counter this perspective: "One thing that annoys me, though, is the way society believes that bodies aren't made to have babies (or at least more than a couple). For some reason, exercising your muscles by using them makes them stronger, but exercising your fertility makes you 'weaker?' This hasn't been my experience at all. "

2. There are many positive health benefits to multiple children. I was surprised as I did research just how many documented, scientific benefits there are to having more children:

• More children born means less breast cancer. Studies have shown that each birth to a woman reduces that woman's chance of developing breast cancer by seven percent. In fact, if women in the developed world had as many children as those in the developing world, the breast cancer rate would be cut in half. (source)
• Women with more children live longer. A study done in Australia showed that "women with six or more children were about 40 per cent less likely to die during the 16-year follow-up than women with no children" It also showed that the more children a woman had, the less likely she was to die. "Compared with women who had no children, those with two had a 17 per cent decreased risk of death. For women with three children there was a 20 per cent decreased risk, and this pattern largely continued with additional children." (source)
• Research shows that fetal cells from each child remain in the mother and may spur healing. It's new and it's intriguing:

  In what any ethicist might declare to be legitimate ‘embryonic stem cell therapy,’ the baby’s fetal stem cells migrate to the mother’s injured sites and offer themselves as a healing remedy, becoming part of the mother’s very body. Pinctott writes that such cells have been found in “diseased thyroid and liver tissue and have turned themselves into thyroid and liver cells respectively.”

  Pinctott calls the evidence “striking” that a baby’s fetal cells “repair and rejuvenate moms.”

  Genetics specialist Dr. Kirby Johnson of Tufts Medical Center, Boston, and professor Carol Artlett, a researcher at Philadelphia’s Thomas Jefferson University, back up Pinctott’s ideas. Their research shows that when a woman becomes pregnant she acquires an army of protective cells - what might be called a gift from her child - that remains with her for decades, perhaps till the end of her life.

  Johnson and Artlett spoke to NPR’s Robert Krulwich in a 2006 interview. In their research, Johnson found that a teaspoon of blood from a pregnant mother contained “dozens, perhaps even hundreds of cells… from the baby.” Science has shown that at the end of a mother’s pregnancy, up to 6 percent of the DNA in her blood plasma comes from her baby. (source)

Amelia's adorable family -- will all these kids actually extend her life?

More personally, a couple of us have family tendencies towards severe PMS, and multiple pregnancies and nursing in between have kept our families more peaceful and calm because they are not subject to monthly motherly mood swings. That's a definite positive!

3. Of all the comments, only three have had what might be considered permanent or long-term problems. These are their comments:

• I was glucose intolerant with the first three kids, full blown gestational diabetes with the last two, of which I needed to use insulin with the last. So far had it has gone away after the baby is born, but I'm more predisposed to develop regular diabetes some time in my life. In my mind, however, I was born with a higher risk, since diabetes runs in both sides of my family and I think pregnancy just uncovered that risk.
• Yes, but I've had poor health most of my life anyway, so I don't think my answer is a fair contribution to this poll.
• For me, I feel like the older I get, the harder pregnancy is on my body. Towards the end of my 5th pregnancy I had some pretty significant vision changes, and although it improved a bit after delivery it has been debilitating. With pregnancy #6 I again had even more problems with the same thing. My baby is now 10 months old and, unfortunately not much has changed or improved either.

4. Most of the problems we've experienced as a group are fairly common to pregnancy (no matter the number) and most resolve themselves after delivery. These include:

• Varicose veins. One mother expecting #10 says, "I have varicose veins but they started up part way into my 2nd pregnancy and by my fourth were about as bad as they are now so even if I had stopped after only a few kids I'd still have them. "
• Stretch marks (though at least one of us has none -- wow!)
  
• Low Iron
• Thyroid Issues
• Incontinence during pregnancy when laughing or sneezing
• Extra weight and more belly fat
• Pregnancy mask (brown splotchy marks on the face from hormones and the sun)
• Gestational Diabetes (just a few mentioned this)
• Sacroiliac Joint Disfunction (one person had this)
• Tiredness and difficulty sleeping during pregnancy (you think?)
  

5. Many of us feel that labor and delivery are much easier in later pregnancies.

6. It is hard to separate out what challenges we've had might be due to multiple pregnancies and what might be due to age or family history. We know women who've never had children who have bladder issues and varicose veins, for instance, and the challenges of pregnancy are tougher in an older body whether that child is your first or your tenth. In Amy's words: "Women who have had many babies get told that they have worn out their bodies, when I believe the difficulty of their pregnancies could be very closely compared to that of women of the same age having their first or second."

7. Many of us feel we are in much better shape physically because the responsibility of having so many children has made us more determined to stay in shape. Most of my friends with large families are very attentive to their own health. I've learned a ton about healthy eating from them as well as regular exercise. My own journey to lose weight and get into running the last few years was motivated most of all by knowing I needed to be stronger for the sake of my family -- if I die, I don't know who would take over! But more than that, I have got to be at the top of my game physically and spiritually to be able to take care of this wonderful and immense responsibility.

Ana exercises daily, eats amazingly healthy (much better than me!), bakes bread every week, and manages to stay sane, even with nine kids!

So there you have it -- some of the positive health benefits of having lots of kids along with some of the negative stuff that we've experienced. I'd love to hear more perspectives on this subject -- what has your experience with pregnancy been? Has age or the number of pregnancies had a positive or negative effect on your health? What do you think of the studies I discovered?

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Q&A Thursday: How can you do this NINE times?

Today's question:

I'm in the third trimester of my third pregnancy and while things are going well, I'm absolutely miserable. I feel like I can barely walk around. Each pregnancy has gotten harder for me and I just don't know if I can ever do this again. How in the world have you been able to do this nine* times?

First, let me tell you that I sympathize with you. I felt the same way during my third pregnancy, and each one has been miserable in its own way (though there are three months in the middle of each one that are simply wonderful). Pregnancy is exhausting and emotionally trying. As mortals, we all want to avoid that which makes us miserable, and it takes a good bit of faith and courage to face pregnancy again, knowing just how hard it can be.

This is a question I've gotten a lot over the years. I think some people are simply hoping that I'll say something like, "Oh, pregnancy? It's just a walk in the park for me; THAT'S my secret." Sometimes I've wondered the same thing about other moms of large families -- is it because they don't feel huge and miserable that they can do pregnancy again? Or is it just as hard for them as for me? I belong to a discussion group of amazing moms of large families and I asked them how they would answer this question. And nope, not a single one said it was easy.** I'll be interspersing their comments with my own thoughts in the hopes of bringing a larger perspective to the question.

As I've pondered how to answer this, I came up with four ideas that have helped me endure: 1. Understanding through personal revelation God's will for me. 2. Trying to remember the joy that comes with the birth of a new child and his or her entrance in our home. 3. Focusing only on current challenges and taking it one pregnancy at a time. 4. Understanding and trying to appreciate the different seasons of life. I'll focus on each of these in turn.

1. Understanding through personal revelation God's will for me. If I were just making the decision based on logic or my own inclinations, I would have happily put pregnancy behind me years ago, most likely after number six. Some of my friends have felt the same way. I think Jenifer, mom of 8, summed up my feelings best when she said, "I also always say, 'Life is about learning. Everybody has SOMETHING hard... i just got to choose mine.' but, oh, the thought of getting pregnant again just about makes me puke. I'm trying not to think about the one more that follows me around each day, and hoping he is not hanging out with a few more sisters. how do you ladies do this?!"

It would certainly make my life easier if I had fewer kids. But acting on the experiences and feelings I've had in these choices has brought me great joy and the wonderful privilege of knowing intimately nine amazing little souls. I don't think true joy comes without sacrifice. It is a leap of faith to choose to have a child, to trust that things will be all right and will work themselves out in time. Having the assurance that this is what God wants me to do gives me the courage to do it again. I cling to His promises and assurances during the hardest months of pregnancy and I try to remember all the other times I've felt His help and His love. Every time, I've found that with His help, I can do all that's needed.

Ana, a mother of nine, says this about faith: "Something I've learned (and am still learning actually) is that if we trust the Lord, he will help us. Things are sometimes hard in life (with or without a large family) but somehow it manages to turn out alright when we turn to him . . . I did not HAVE to have my younger children. It was an act of supreme charity on my part that I assented to nine months' of torture for each of them (did I mention I DETEST being pregnant?) and I fully expect a hero's welcome in the next life. ;) It has taken a LOT of faith to go through it again with them. But I am so, so, so glad I did. Also, I would NEVER presume to make that kind of decision/judgment for someone else. It was hard enough to come to the conclusion for myself and I had all the facts in that case. I'm just saying I'm glad I did it and I would urge anyone wondering whether to have more children to be very prayerful about what they decide and to be careful not to get hung up on proximate difficulties. Circumstances have a way of changing."

2. Trying to remember the joy that comes with the birth of a new child and his or her entrance in our home. I wouldn't give up the chance to know any of my children. My large family friends felt the same way and most of them expressed it better than I would have.

Laura, expecting her eighth child, said this: "My biggest motivator is that I love children and babies. I also have a real testimony of the importance of being willing to provide physical bodies and a loving (even if somewhat messy and chaotic) home. If I didn't have that testimony, I wouldn't have the determination to push through the physical, emotional and financial hardships that come with large families. But I also know I would be missing out on such specialblessings and moments. Even if a woman has an unexpected pregnancy, resulting in a larger family than she had "planned", if you asked her which child she'd give back if she could, there's no way she could give you an answer. Because each child is so precious and brings something unique to the family. I hope that this is our last baby for several reasons, but even if we had a surprise, I know I could never imagine our life without that baby. The love I have felt with each of my children has given me the strength to do it all again."

Amy, mom of 8, says this: "There are a few things that really help me. One is John 16:21. 'A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come: but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world.'. . . Another thing I am enjoying more and more is the wonder and awe of a new little person full of potential and individuality. I am humbled and fascinated by these little spirits that Heavenly Father has entrusted to me. And they just keep getting funner and cuter and more interesting as they grow up. (I still don't quite understand how there can be room in one heart for so much love.) "

Christina adds: "Pregnancy is hard. I think we all can agree it's generally unpleasant, exhausting, and way too drawn out of a process. One of my most cherished memories as a parent is after delivery (and most of the ordeal is done) when they hand me that sweet, little baby that I've carried for so long. For me, that moment makes it all worth while, and makes me completely ready and willing to do it again (when the time is right of course)."

Who wouldn't fall in love with something like this?


3. Focusing only on current challenges and taking it one pregnancy at a time. I've found over the years that nothing is more discouraging than thinking about all future possible pregnancies while in the midst of one. This lesson was reinforced for me when I was learning to run long distances last year. At the beginning, it was absolutely frightening to look at the schedule and see the distances it told me I'd be running. When five miles is hard, thinking about running 26.2 seems impossible. So I learned to just focus on what was on the schedule for that week. Amazingly, one run at a time and one week at a time brought me to a point where I could handle those long runs, just like that schedule said!

I love this talk by Elder Christopherson, where he points out significant lessons we can learn from the manna, or daily bread, that God provided to the children of Israel in the Old Testament. He points out that God provided each day what was needed for that day only. While it's good to plan and prepare for the future, we live in the present. It is intended for life to be a daily struggle at times, because we need to learn to develop a daily faith. Sometimes when we feel overwhelmed it’s because we are looking too much into the future when all we need to do is have the faith to pray for strength for that day’s challenges. I liked this part of his message:

"In the 1950s my mother survived radical cancer surgery, but difficult as that was, the surgery was followed with dozens of painful radiation treatments in what would now be considered rather primitive medical conditions. She recalls that her mother taught her something during that time that has helped her ever since: “I was so sick and weak, and I said to her one day, ‘Oh, Mother, I can’t stand having 16 more of those treatments.’ She said, ‘Can you go today?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, honey, that’s all you have to do today.’ It has helped me many times when I remember to take one day or one thing at a time.”

Ana, I think, made this point better than I could: I am NOT fond of pregnancy but I go through it because of the end product. I used to want seven children and when I was 20 weeks with my fourth pregnancy I was sitting in church feeling absolutely miserable when it suddenly dawned on me that if I wanted seven children I was only half way there. I felt like bawling. I felt like all my future pregnancies were descending on me RIGHT THEN. If I could go back and talk to myself I would tell myself to stop worrying about future pregnancies--to basically let them take care of themselves. Don't try and take on the pains of pregnancies yet to be (beyond getting competent medical advice) before you face them. Do what you need to do today and if you need the strength for more pregnancies/children (we have nine now), it will be there. You do yourself absolutely no favors to borrow anxiety from the future. I feel like I wasted so much time wondering how many more children we'd have, when could I be "done", etc. I am continually amazed at how the Lord has blessed us to be able to do what we are doing. I could never have envisioned it back then when I was pregnant with number four. (In fact, in many ways, that was a harder time period with just those three little ones than now is with nine.)

Amy says this: I love to think of how I'm connected to women throughout the history of the world. I doubt many of them just lovvvvved the pain of childbirth or all the physical/emotional anguish that goes with pregnancy. And they didn't even have comfortable beds or microwave meals or epidurals or sanitary supplies or disinfected hospital rooms or clean water with which to wash their hands! (And don't even get me started on infant/mother mortality rates.) And yet when they held their tiny babies in their arms, they remembered no more the anguish, for joy. One of my favorite examples of this is Sacagawea. She was pregnant on the exploration of the Louisiana Purchase. The way I heard it one day she just sort of wandered off and then came back having delivered her baby. That is one tough woman. I'm glad I've never had to hike across the untamed wilds and have a baby in February in the middle of nowhere. Every time I get whiny while pregnant (which is quite often), I tell myself that story.

4. Understanding and trying to appreciate the different seasons of life. This is something that helped me profoundly during Cami's pregnancy. With ten weeks to go, I was done, done, done, with being pregnant. I was feeling resentful and trying to change that feeling. As I prayed daily for more patience, I found an answer. This is what I wrote to a friend in December about what I discovered:

As for me, I’ve been struggling for over a month with feelings of worn-out-hood (isn’t that a great word?). I’ve been tired of being pregnant and exhausted and feeling like I’m accomplishing so little beyond the basics. The thought of more pregnancies after this one has been absolutely overwhelming and I’ve found myself thinking, “I don’t know if I can do this again,” and “Haven’t I done enough already?” And while I know that I’m doing the will of God with this pregnancy and I’ve committed to bearing the others He is willing to send (I know there is at least one more), I’ve been deeply discouraged by my own weakness and resentment of late – “the Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” is how I’d describe myself. I’ve been praying often for a better perspective, more patience, and that I won’t be so resentful.

At the same time, I’ve been aware of my blessings. My family is at a good place right now. I don’t have huge discipline or school-related problems with any of my kids; the chores and routines we have keep the house in pretty good order; if I don’t feel up to cooking, Lillian, Joey, or DH can do it; my three preschoolers get along amazingly well; etc. I’ve even become aware (I’m sure it’s the Holy Ghost helping me as I’ve prayed over and over again for help) of how much “extra” time I have that doesn’t have to be used. In other words, how much time I’ve been blessed with that I use right now for rest and sitting around because I’m too tired for much else. It reminds me that though I feel exhausted a lot, my family really isn’t suffering because of it.

I’ve also felt those prayers answered in other ways. For example, this week I was thinking about Mary and how I’m sure pregnancy was a struggle for her – not to mention the delivery in poor conditions! – and I was thinking how much easier it would be for me if I could remember and know more about this child. Wouldn’t all the sacrifice be worth it if I knew who this child was to become and what her purpose was on earth? After all, I wouldn’t give a single one of my amazing children back now that I know who they are and a little bit of what they can become. The scripture that came to my mind strongly as I pondered on these things was, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me.” It may sound simple, but for me that was profound, to remember and realize that no matter who this child becomes, my gift to her, freely given, is as if I were carrying the Savior himself. With that thought in my mind, I find my resentment starting to melt away and I’m feeling anew that this is a privilege.

Today as I was cleaning (doesn’t the best kind of revelation always come while cleaning?), I was thinking about this stage in my life and I realized that for me, this is simply winter, both physically and emotionally. The seasons of my life this year corresponded really well with what was happening in nature. In the spring, I reawakened with renewed energy and dedication to goals and I tackled them wholeheartedly, planting the seeds of better fitness and enjoying so many other abundant blessings after a hard winter. Summer was the time I worked hard in my garden of life, pushing through the morning sickness to continue to train for my marathon and keep up with my other responsibilities. It was difficult, sure, but I could see at the same time the fruits of my labors beginning to form. Fall was a time of harvest, as I ran a marathon and enjoyed renewed vigor as the morning sickness abated and I appreciated my life so much. But now, I’m in a time of winter. The harvest has largely ended and I’m hibernating some of my talents, withdrawing into myself and trying to conserve what little sunlight and energy I’m given every day. I’m not pushing hard towards goals, but that’s appropriate for the season of my life. And while it’s appropriate to mourn the passing of fall and the harvest, it’s important to realize that this time of rest and dormancy is good and right as well. Instead of berating myself for not doing all the things I was doing during the spring, summer or fall, I simply need to let this be and appreciate winter. One gardening book I read a long time ago described the seasons as “planting, growing, harvesting, and planning,” and pointed out that she’s learned to love winter because it’s her dreaming season. She gets to think and ponder over the seed catalogs and choose what she’ll grow and plant next while not really having to do much at all in her garden. I like that analogy as I apply it to my life. Spring will come again, and it might be a challenging one, with a new baby to enjoy and take care of (dare I hope this one sleeps?), and my body will need to be reawakened and invigorated with regular exercise. I’ll get more summers, with the constant chores and overwhelming tasks and busy-ness all around. I’ll also enjoy more falls, with their lovely colors and abundant harvests. But right now, it’s winter. I can decide I hate winter, with its cold and bluster and grayness. Or I can look for things to like about it – the time I have to not worry about my goals and simply let life unfold, for example, or the way I know I’ll appreciate the freedom to move and breath again after this pregnancy is over and I’m not carrying around this huge bump anymore. I always feel so full of energy during those first few post-partum weeks despite waking up with a newborn. It just feels so wonderful not just to enjoy the new baby, but to have the burden of pregnancy so suddenly and amazingly lifted. I think it’s the way spring always brings me such joy – I wouldn’t love spring so much without the gray, cold days of winter.

Now that Cami's here, I have felt the truth of what I wrote to my friend impress on me. For me, it's spring again. Sure, I'm tired and sleep-deprived. But otherwise? Life is wonderful. I'm not pregnant! I can move! I've been running! And I have a precious new addition to our family to enjoy. Life is good. (But still, I'm with Jenifer -- the thought of being pregnant again makes me want to puke. I'm trying not to think about it right now).

(me last week -- enjoying NOT being pregnant AND hoping to lose that extra weight around my middle)

* I should probably clarify that I've only done pregnancy eight times. But since a multiple pregnancy increases the discomfort and the morning sickness (I threw up twice a day instead of just once), can I count it twice?

* * I have since heard from several large family moms who are blessed with wonderful pregnancies and NO morning sickness. I'm seriously jealous.

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Less than two weeks to go (Wordless Wednesday)

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A Different Kind of Hard

Last summer, when I pushed myself to my limit and kept on training for a marathon despite dealing with exhaustion and morning sickness, I often told myself, "If I can run a marathon while pregnant with my ninth child, I can do anything." I felt myself stretching and growing from the experience of pushing against so much resistance. It was hard, but it was a thrilling hard, as I explored what I was capable of and found my body and spirit strengthened in the process.

But I've changed my mind about the "if I can do this, I can do anything" issue. Because I'm having a hard time with this pregnancy.

I really hoped and believed that pregnancy would be easier on me this time -- with the greater fitness, surely the last months would not be so torturous! And in some ways, it has been. My morning sickness, though awful, brought me low only in the afternoons and evenings instead of all day. And I'm sure the weight loss has helped in ways I don't appreciate (after all, I weigh less now, with four weeks left, than I did a year ago!).

But as my belly has grown larger, my energy and patience have grown smaller. I've had a cough for over a month and between that and the regular sleep problems I experience with pregnancy, I have not slept well in ages. I wake up in the morning more tired than when I went to sleep the night before. With the lack of sleep and the requirements of growing this baby, I think my body has decided to forget about working its immune system for now. Two weeks ago, six weeks felt so near -- surely I can handle just six weeks! But this last week, with my health feeling so precarious, I've reached the point several times where I say to myself, "I have nothing left." In those moments, four weeks feels like four years!

And I find myself questioning why I'm such a wimp -- I can run a marathon but I can't handle the last month of pregnancy? But as I've thought and prayed about it, I've realized that challenges come in many different forms and seasons of our lives require different strengths. The work of last summer required determination, strength, effort, and faith. The work I'm facing now, with four weeks left of pregnancy, requires a different set of attributes: patience, endurance, and a different kind of strength.

This is a season of rest and of conserving what energy I have. It would not be wise to push myself physically right now, and so I wait, allowing many of my talents to lie dormant. In many ways, it was easier to run the marathon. I knew what I was going for. I had the milestones and training goals along the way to cross off the list. I had the satisfaction of achieving. There was so much to celebrate.

But now, there is very little to show for my efforts. I keep my home clean, my household running fairly smoothly. I give my kids love and attention and try not to lose my patience with them despite my exhaustion. But I'm too tired to do any more than that. And that's a different kind of hard. I'm hibernating, trying to conserve the little strength I have to give to the basics and reminding myself that spring will come. This baby will arrive and the sacrifice of pregnancy will be largely forgotten in the joy of those moments. My body will heal and renew itself and I'll get to move into a season of celebrations rather than a season of waiting.

My season of winter, of dormancy and limitation, is actually fairly short. There are many who endure years and years of this kind of challenge, whether because of age or health problems. I visit teach a woman who has endured much in her life. She's had two lung transplants. The medication she takes daily keeps her body from rejecting the foreign lungs but also leaves her immune system compromised. She has to be careful whenever she is in public places so as not to catch the slightest illness. She is limited in strength and energy and deals with diminished capacity on a daily basis. Training for a marathon will never be in her future. But she's making the best of her life, raising and loving her children and adjusting her life accordingly.

I wonder sometimes if the tough, tough days at the end of pregnancy don't give us sympathy and understanding for those whose stage in life is otherwise so utterly foreign to us. Five years ago, when health and age made a move to an assisted living facility necessary for my husband's nearly-ninety-year-old grandmother, I took over a large share of her care and visited her every day. The disruption in her life was extremely difficult for her to adjust to and she often expressed her frustration -- hadn't she lived long enough? Couldn't she just go home to her Heavenly Father? What more did she have to endure? I could understand her feelings in large part because of how I feel at the end of a pregnancy -- Won't this baby ever come? How many more days of fatigue and exhaustion can I endure? Will this really end?

So while I'm eyeing the calendar and counting down (4 weeks is 28 days -- surely I can hang on that long?), I'm also grateful for the lessons I can learn from this challenge, even if it is a different kind of hard.

What are some hard things you've experienced in your life? What have you learned from them?

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Numbers

2nd trimester . . . that's what I'm wishing I'd enjoyed a little more. Now that I have just three months to go, I'm feeling the exhaustion of pregnancy keenly. I'm trying to be upbeat and positive and remind myself what a blessing this little girl is, but frankly, I'm tired of being pregnant. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of needing naps in the afternoon because I can't sleep soundly at night. I long for days when I have abundant energy and I don't have to carefully choose my activities so I don't exhaust myself too soon. I'm tired of putting off projects for that elusive "someday" when I somehow find more energy. I'm tired of feeling awkward and knowing it's only going to get worse. I'm tired of feeling like a wimp because all I do for exercise now is walk on the treadmill.

But at the same time, I am thankful that this is what I've chosen. I've freely chosen to make sacrifices in other areas of my life so I can bear and nurture my children. I've chosen to allow this child to enter our lives, knowing (probably better than most women!) just how uncomfortable, exhausting and inconvenient it would be. I've done so with faith that the blessings of a happy family and a posterity who love each other and try to do good in the world will be worth all I can give it.

A family is a long-term investment. It takes patience and faith to daily fill its needs, with hope that the future will be rich. It's like regularly placing money into a savings account. It takes discipline to give up the things you want and desire now in order to put that money aside and especially in the early years, that account seems to grow agonizingly slow. But because of compounding interest, over time, it will grow into something amazingly abundant.

We knew a man once who took pride in his "continuing education" which consisted mostly of attending one "get-rich-quick" presentation after another. He didn't have the patience for the self-restraint and the regular deposits that would have made him wealthy over a long period of time. He wanted his results fast and there were plenty of people willing to teach him how to do it. As a result, though he was well along in life, he was no closer to being wealthy than he had been when he was young. If he'd spent the years he'd wasted looking for shortcuts simply putting aside a little bit here and there, he'd have had his wealth and the lessons learned from a life of patience.

Similarly, there are so many voices in the world that will tell women about the quick way to happiness and fulfillment. Most of them involve self-absorption, fulfillment, and following dreams. A career, recognition from peers, a lot of money, prestige, plenty of leisure time to vacation, hobbies -- those are the means to a happy life. Sacrificing yourself to build a family? Using your body to create life? Not very important. A young woman is allowed to want to be a teacher, a doctor, an astronaut, but have her tell her class that someday, she wants to be a mother, and you'll find a stunned silence.

10.5 weeks . . . that's how long it's been since my marathon. It feels like years. I feel a bit let down that I haven't been able to continue the full-out physical effort it took to get to that point in my life, first because I had to let my knee heal and then because life and pregnancy have interfered with my lofty intentions. It's been interesting that after reaching that huge milestone, I have had a hard time reminding myself that walking regularly is still a good form of exercise! Sure, it's not what I was doing in the summer, but it's enough for this season of my life.

5 years . . . that's how long we've lived here, in the "dream house" I designed myself and we built, mostly on faith. I love this message about the different ways revelation comes into our lives. Some experiences with revelation, says Elder Bednar, are like a light turning on in a dark room. We are immediately illuminated and we know what we are to do. Other experiences, and more commonly, are like the sun rising slowly, gradually filling our world with light and understanding. Most of my experiences have been the second, but I have had moments of the absolute knowledge that comes with the first kind of revelation. One such moment for me, was the day six years ago when I had an overwhelming impression that we needed to buy the lot that our current home is built on. It was a miracle we even got the lot, since it wasn't even for sale the day I felt we should buy it. It appeared on the MLS three days later and within a week, we'd had our offer accepted. Within two weeks, there two back-up offers.

It really made no sense to build our final dream home at that period in our lives. My husband had only just started his career, and the money he made fluctuated greatly from month to month. He was very busy with his career and we had five small children to care for. But we prayed often and plunged into the exciting and overwhelming world of building. Interestingly enough, we've been amazed at the timing of it all. Not only did we build just at the right time to secure our lot, we also bought the lot $100,000 cheaper than similar lots went for at the height of the housing bubble just a year later. Because we started building before the bubble burst, we were able to secure advantageous financing on generous terms.

I designed our house with a large family in mind, wanting to balance the needs of the future with the practicalities of today. We cut frills where-ever we could, both in the design of the home and in it's finishing. We wanted a nice, easy-to-maintain home with just the basics. But we also wanted it big enough for the size our family would grow to and have enough space for large family gatherings. We've felt blessed to have the space for our family and have tried to be generous in opening our home to others. I know that most large families make do with much smaller spaces, and while I try never to think that we need this much space, it sure is nice to have.

We've been blessed with good neighbors. We've been blessed that our kids are able to walk to a quality school nearby. We've been blessed to have a large backyard for the kids to romp and play in.

I mean really, with this in the backyard, is it any wonder that I love living here?

34 . . . that's how old I'll be this week on my birthday. A few weeks ago, I felt young. Now, with the exhaustion of the pregnancy and the date of the birthday approaching, I'm feeling older. As a gift to myself, I set a goal to get on the treadmill for at least twenty minutes every day this week. Yesterday, I ran intervals, but it was quite uncomfortable and I ended with my back aching for the rest of the day (Did I mention I'm tired of being pregnant?). I think I'll stick to walking from here on out and forget feeling guilty about it.

I don't feel any regrets about getting older. I'm amazed when I consider all that I've been able to fit into those 34 years. I'm happy with the way I've used my time and energy and that some of the toughest years of parenting are behind me.

Despite the irritations of pregnancy, I'm in the best shape I've been in my adult life. I lost 35 lbs this year and ran a marathon. Those are pretty awesome accomplishments and I'm grateful for the difference that has made in my ability to keep up with the myriad demands on my life.

I've grown a lot in my 34 years. I'm less judgmental and more charitable than I've been in the past. I'm more forgiving of myself. I'm better at discerning where to put my efforts on a daily basis. I'm more confident in my choices and less worried about what others think.

I'm grateful for my husband and that our marriage has been strong enough to withstand all the stress we put on it. I'm thankful he is willing to work hard to support us and that he adores his family.

I'm thankful for two crazy boys. So close in age and yet so amazingly different in looks and personality!

I'm thankful to have so many girls in my life. I hope I can be the kind of example they need.

I'm incredibly blessed to see my older children turning into responsible, thoughtful, enjoyable people that I love spending time with. I love having little ones who adore me and tell me I'm the best mom in the whole world. I love having my life filled with amazing little people and I'm grateful for the prospect of meeting and welcoming another one.

Happy Birthday to me!

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I RAN A MARATHON! (The long version)

I'm getting such a thrill saying that to myself: "I ran a marathon." I get even more thrilled to add, "and I loved it!" And the little braggart in me wants to go on with, "And I did it 15 weeks pregnant and with a knee injury!" Maybe I'll be more humble later on, but right now, I'm really proud of myself.



A Little Running Background:

A little over two years ago, I had never run a mile in my life. I'd exercised in other ways, but running? That was for someone else. Then I gradually started to run and built up some stamina, culminating in running my first 5K when I was 12 weeks pregnant with my 8th child. I continued to run until I was about 6 months along, then just walked the last few months of pregnancy. After Katie was born in May of 2010, I did a bit of running, including another 5K when she was two months old, but nothing really serious.



In January I decided this was the year I was finally going to tackle my fitness in a big way. I thought I'd have a little break before our next baby was born (ha ha, joke's on me!), so I filled in the year with races -- a 10K in March, my first half marathon in June, and then, with a lot of trepidation and fear, I signed up for the St. George marathon lottery and got in!



I was running off and on, but my longest distance was still only about 3.5 miles when I started training in January. I gradually built that up, training first for the Utah Valley Half, and feeling so proud of myself. Along the way, I learned a lot of life lessons and really discovered why I was doing this.



With the half marathon successfully completed, I jumped halfway into a marathon training plan, gearing up for the St. George marathon on October 1st. A week later, I found out that baby #9 was anxious to arrive around Valentines Day. I decided to continue training, with some modifications, and I was all set to run. My doctor, however, wasn't so sure about running the St. George marathon when I was 20 weeks along. She's run four marathons herself, so I had to take her advice seriously. With that in mind, I chose the Mesa Falls Marathon, five weeks earlier, and my doctor said she felt much better about my running one at 15 weeks. She counseled me to avoid dehydration and training too hard and told me I was amazing.



Things were going pretty well in the training, and my 18-miler was a huge success. Then came my 21-miler, and horrible hip pain that kept me from running at all after the first nine miles. I was determined to finish the distance anyway, so I walked. It wasn't so bad the first few miles, but by the time I finished out the full 21, my feet were two masses of blisters, my right hip and knee were killing me, and I could barely move. I'd thought running 21 miles would be hard, but I discovered that walking the last 12 miles were worse! The recovery from that "run" was my worst ever.



The hip pain subsided over the next week, but the knee pain didn't go away. I struggled with it through the Provo River Half Marathon the next Saturday and I was panicked when it recurred during my 8 mile run the week before the marathon. I went to a physical therapist twice the week of the marathon, hoping to speed up the healing and get through the marathon in one piece.



I went out for one run on Thursday morning, but the knee was still really sore and I didn't run enough of it to see how bad it would get. Needless to say, I went into the marathon last weekend with very low expectations. If it hadn't been for the pregnancy, I would have canceled the race and focused instead on one a bit further out, giving my leg a chance to really heal beforehand. But I knew this was my only chance and I determined to make the best of it. If I could just somehow get through the miles, then I had plenty of time to take a long running break and get things working better afterwards.



But I needed to get through those miles first, and while I trusted in the assurance I felt from Heavenly Father that I'd be able to see success in my goals, I didn't quite know what that "success" would look like. I determined in my mind beforehand that if I could run for most of the first ten miles, then I knew I would finish, even if I had to walk the last sixteen. Every mile I could run after the first ten would just decrease the time spent walking. Make no mistake, however -- I knew walking that kind of distance on an injured leg was no piece of cake, either, and I dreaded the extra time it would take and the blisters that would surely form.

Nevertheless, I determined to make the best of it if necessary and try to enjoy the marathon.



Marathon: Day Before



Friday afternoon, DH, Joey, Katie and I left the other kids in the care of my wonderful mother-in-law Carolyn, and headed up to Ashton, Idaho, a five hour drive away. It has been years since I've been on the part of I-15 that goes into Idaho. It was a lovely, soothing drive. I'd gotten most of my anxiety about the race worked through earlier in the week, so I felt calm and relaxed, saying to myself, "Come what may!" The lovely farmland, rolling hills, and beautiful sky were wonderful to drive through. I was amazed by the fields and fields full of sunflowers all along the route.



In Ashton, we stopped first at the elementary school to pick up my packet and enjoy the pre-race dinner. The packets were in Idaho Potato sacks, and I loved that little touch.



The volunteers at the race were so friendly and helpful all the way along. I talked briefly to the race director, reminding him I was doing the early start. He said there were two others who were doing it and reminded me it would be dark. He told me to be at the school at 4:00 and that his driver would leave at 4:15. I was happy to hear I'd still get to enjoy the free runner's breakfast that started at 4:00.



We'd paid $5 each for three tickets to the pre-race pasta dinner that night and ate in the school cafeteria. The pasta dinner was pretty simple -- spaghetti with two kinds of sauce, garlic bread, baked potatoes and salad. We talked to an older couple nearby from Boise who had both run many, many races. With only about two hundred runners doing the full, and around three hundred doing the half, it seemed that most of the marathoners were veterans. It's not a big or well-known race (St. George, for example, attracts 7,000 runners!), and there’s not a lot of downhill, so it seems to attract more veterans, especially those who want to do a marathon in every state and are attracted to one that starts just an hour from Yellowstone. At breakfast in the morning, I sat by several people who had on "marathon maniac" shirts and they were swapping stories about this race or that one and I could see that for some, marathons are addicting!



We stayed at a hotel about a mile north of the elementary school. Katie seemed to know just what her pack-n-play was for, and insisted on getting in it right after we set it up. We got her out a short time later because she wasn't ready for sleep, and she pleasantly ran around the room, climbed on the beds, and ripped up a magazine. DH took Joey out for shakes at the FrosTop drive-in while I stayed back to help Katie to sleep. She hardly whimpered as I put her down, rolling around a lot to get comfortable, sucking on her ring finger as usual, and going to sleep after about a half an hour.



When DH got back, he had to work on his laptop while Joey and I went to sleep. I slept pretty soundly, though I still woke up several times in the night (darn pregnancy hormones!).



Marathon Day



I woke up at 3:15, took a quick shower and braided my hair, got dressed and made sure all my gear was in order, then woke up DH to drive me over. I was really worried about my knee, which was feeling more out of whack, and we said a prayer together in the car just before I left. I got a quick breakfast -- there was a huge spread of fruit, bagels, donuts, juice, milk, and cereal to choose from, all free for the runners and just $3 for others who wanted to tag along -- and then a volunteer named Robert asked who would be doing the early start. It was me and a very fit empty-nester named Doug Calder doing it. The others had decided to start at the regular time, Robert said, and Doug had chosen the early start because he'd found out the night before he was supposed to pick up his daughter at the SLC airport at 3:30. He was using this run as a training run for the Top of Utah marathon in Logan in three weeks and was quite a runner, having done several ultra-marathons in addition to many marathons. Robert told us he would drive behind the slower of us to scare any cows off the course and to illuminate the run for us. That was a nice surprise and a great courtesy. I'd been told I needed to provide my own water until the aid stations opened and that I'd need to provide my own light as well. I'd brought a headlamp, but it was great not to need it.



We started around 5:15 a.m. The first nine and a half miles were on a mostly-level gravel road in the Targhee National Forest. It was very dark when we began and slightly chilly. The stars were stunning and there was the teeniest sliver of a moon. It was a lovely place and I couldn't help but feel it was a great privilege to be out enjoying such a stunning landscape. We startled an owl nearby at one point, but the only other animals we saw were cows.



Doug was kind enough to run alongside me for the first five miles. I really enjoyed having someone to talk to, and felt great through the first three miles. I skipped a lot of walk breaks because the pace we were going was easy enough. At around mile three, however, the knee started acting up and I had to adjust accordingly. Doug was great to walk with me when the pain got too intense for running and with a few more walk breaks than I wanted to take, we got through the first five miles in about seventy minutes. About that time, the sun had come up enough to distinguish the path. Doug went on ahead, and I told Robert I'd be fine. He'd been great to follow after us all that time. He filled up my water bottle and then went on ahead.



I was on my own then, and though I was really worried about the knee, and some additional hip pain I now experienced, I felt like I'd gotten a great start. My goal at this point was just to focus on getting through the first ten miles, running as much as possible. Each mile that passed brought greater confidence, though the pain got worse. The gravel road was surprisingly easy to run on. I'd been worried since I've trained exclusively on asphalt, but though at times there were larger rocks to watch out for, there was plenty of packed dirt mixed with the gravel and it was easy to get footing. I loved the solo running, just me and the lovely landscape, with evergreen forest, open range, and some patches of aspen trees to enjoy. Watching the sun rise over the Tetons in the distance was just icing on the cake.





At around 6:30, I passed my first aid station. I told the volunteers I was pretty sure I was winning, but they pointed out that there was another runner (Doug) ahead of me. I was impressed with the offerings at this and every aid station I passed. Not only was there water and several varieties of Gatorade, but there was a good variety of fruit, in this case, bananas, grapes, and orange slices. Some of the aid stations had a variety of granola bars, power bars, Gu, and gel, and every single one was staffed by nice people. Even towards the end, when I was more towards the back of the pack, the aid stations didn't seem to change. They were still just as well-stocked for the slower runners as for the faster ones. My last two races had been really poor in that way, with aid stations virtually empty for the slower runners -- at the Hobble Creek Half, when I'd deliberately walked the last five miles in order to taper for this marathon, there weren't any volunteers at all, no sign of any food or gel, and some aid "stations" had just a few cups of water left on the ground. So well-stocked and staffed aid stations every other mile or so was not something I took for granted!





After nine and half miles on the gravel road, the course turned south onto the Mesa Falls Scenic Byway. At mile marker eleven, we turned and got to run on the path overlooking the falls. Just before the turn, I started to get passed by the fastest of the male marathoners (the "real" runners!). It was an awesome experience to be an early starter, because I got to see and cheer on individually most of the other marathoners one at a time. The back of my shirt (which read "Mother of 8, Baby #9 on board”) got some comments and accolades from "Should you be out here?" to "You're an inspiration!" and I really enjoyed handing the compliments right back. Dane Rauschenberg, an author who ran 52 marathons in 52 weeks in 2006, was especially encouraging, which I thought was kind (I even got a mention on his blog later on).



There was a photographer near the falls and she got a picture of both the front and back of my shirt.

This picture doesn't do the falls justice:DH was going to meet me at the falls, but it took him a little more time to get the pain medicine I was begging him for (I'd passed an aid station at mile ten and took a half dose of pain pills, hoping they'd help, and knowing DH would have more for me if I needed it). My hip and knee were getting worse and I was hobbling through both the running and walking at this point, but feeling great that I'd gotten through my goal of running the first ten miles and that I was nearing the halfway point.

I met my husband, Joey, and Katie at around mile twelve and a half. Joey ran with me for just a bit.

Then I got to say hi to this cute face!

I braced myself for a lot of walking as the pain was overpowering at this point. I prepared myself mentally to be walking most of the rest of the way. I switched my socks to cut down on blistering, and handed my watch and water belt to my husband. "The aid stations are well-stocked, so I think I can do without this stuff now, " I said. "Don't you need the watch?" he asked. "I'm in so much pain I think I'm going to be walking the rest," I told him. "At this point, all that will tell me is how slow I'm going, and I don't need that!" I tucked another half dose of pain medication into my pocket (I used it around mile 17).



I walked for about another quarter of a mile after meeting DH, but blessedly, the pain started to subside – maybe because the the pain medicine started to work, and certainly the result of all the prayers said on my behalf. I began to run again just before the half-way point. The half-marathoners were gathered at the side of the road waiting for their race to start. It was somewhere around 8:30, because not long after I passed, they started to pass me. They were a great cheering section. They cheered me as I went by, and then I heard the exclamations as they read the back of my shirt. "Mother of eight! My word!" One half marathoner told me later that I was famous among them. Another told me, "I heard about you." Still another, later on in the race, told me that after I'd gone by, she couldn't decide if I was crazy or amazing. We were in the last few miles by that point, and I told her I couldn't figure that out myself.





The pain was still present, but not enough to keep me from running. After I passed the half-marathoners, we turned onto a dirt running trail for three and a half miles that overlooked the Warm River.



There were wildflowers along the path. The sun glistening along the river below brightened my spirits. Best of all, I could run!



The next four miles were just fabulous. I figured as long as the pain wasn't too bad, and I was able to do it, I would just keep running. I took no breaks and just ran and ran and ran, all the while being passed by the pack of half-marathoners (remember, I’m a slow runner!). It felt amazing. I felt strong and healthy, and I told myself, "THIS is what I've trained for, and THIS is how I want to run all of my next marathon." I figured every mile I got through was another one I wouldn't have to walk, and that felt great.



I felt as though I could go on forever, and I didn't take a walk break until I was nearly at the end of the dirt path. We passed a campground, along with mile marker 17, and headed into the hardest part of the course -- a two-mile hill that curved around and up to the farmlands that would make up the rest of the run. It was starting to get hot, but most of the hill was shaded by trees. It seemed to last forever and I ran a lot of the first part of it, but then decided that with eight or nine miles still to go, I should conserve my strength. I enjoyed talking to some of the other people walking the hill and cheering on the runners who passed us. At mile 18, I still felt strong and great and anxious to tackle the last eight miles. Mile 19 saw the end of most of the hills, though there were a few more in the rolling farmlands we followed the rest of the way.







About this point, the heat started to bother all of us. I heard from an EMT at mile 22 that it was already 83 degrees, and that was before 11:00. Usually the weather is much cooler at this time of year, but the day before had reached 96, so the heat was to be expected. Most of the earlier miles had lots of shade, but now we were in open farmland with none. Still, it was beautiful to see the wheat and potato fields and the aid stations were manned by friendly townspeople, some of them with sprinklers!





I dropped cups of water on my head every chance I got and it seemed that every time the heat really started to bother me, there'd be a nice kid with a sprinkler ready to spray us off or an aid station with cups of water at hand. My husband drove by once just in time with a water bottle I poured on myself.



While at mile 18, I felt on top of the world and stronger than ever before, by mile 20, I began to feel the effects of the long run. I started to understand better why a couple of the runners wore shirts that said "A marathon is a 10K with a 20-mile warm-up." My legs felt like jello and I felt like I was moving through mud. I was slowing down -- I knew I was going pretty slow when a half-marathoner passed me while I was running, and she was walking! Still, I felt fabulous and on top of the world. In my mind, the race was already won and the miles between me and the finish were just details. I passed or was passed by a couple of people who had hit the wall and the discouragement on their faces was evident. I tried to cheer them up and remind them how close we were, or when that didn't work, distract them with conversation if they wanted to talk.

Every mile that brought me closer to the finish line felt wonderful and I cheered at every mile marker (earning me some smiles from my fellow runners). My knee and hip bothered me more and more, but so did every other part of my body. Still, it was awesome to move closer and closer to the finish line. Mile 21, with just five miles to go, was great. Mile 23 was even better, though by then the mile markers seemed to stretch further and further apart.



With three miles to go, I mentally ran my regular three mile training route in my head, trying to judge where I was by comparing the distances. "Just to the river path and the foot bridge will be another half mile. Then another half mile to the road, another half mile to the bridge, across the river and then I'm turned back heading for home!" I found that when I tried to estimate the miles this way, I underestimated how much distance I'd covered and mile 24 appeared out of nowhere.



Mile 25 took a lot longer to appear, and that last mile was the longest of the run. My hip was bothering me a lot, but I fell into place beside a half-marathoner who was using telephone poles to push herself -- run to one pole, then walk to the next. I figured I could handle that, and we enjoyed a brief conversation. With a quarter mile or so to go, I left my run-walk friend and tried to run as much as I could. There were many finishers walking along the main street by now, some of them enjoying their free huckleberry shakes. "The finish line is just around the corner," they called out, but I couldn't see the corner, nor even judge how far the finish line might be from it. It felt like it might never arrive. But the corner did finally appear, and I ran around it with a huge smile on my face.



I crossed the finish line feeling great. I wore my medal proudly and celebrated for a few moments with my husband (Joey was watching Katie at the hotel). They had fruit and pizza there, and I felt as though I could eat three or four full pizzas and still not be satisfied. I settled for three or four slices. My jacket was waiting for me, along with things the other runners had dropped at the aid stations (no buying throw-away clothes for this race -- we were spoiled!). After just a few minutes of standing around, it was torture to move again, but DH had walked the mile from our hotel and I knew it was good for my legs to walk that distance to prevent cramping.

It took me over six and a half hours to finish, but considering I'm slow to begin with, I'm 15 weeks pregnant, I'm still 25 lbs overweight (can't safely lose that until after the baby's born!), and that I was running injured, I'm so thrilled and proud. The best part is that I know that next time, it should be a piece of cake to beat that time, and there won't be any pressure.



And about that next marathon? I know many first-time marathoners have such a poor experience that they vow right after the race never to run again. I didn't feel any of that. I loved almost all of the race. The middle part, when I was convinced I'd be walking, was the worst. Being able to run and run and run after that point, from miles 13 to 17, were the best. And the last six miles, when I was so tired and my entire body begged me to stop, were the most rewarding. I'll certainly be back, and I hope that I get to run the Mesa Falls one again. The course was lovely, the volunteers were wonderful, the aid stations full of wonderful goodies, and I'm so grateful for farmers and their families for their sprinklers! It was a wonderful experience and I loved it.

I'm a marathoner now.

I'm going to savor that title for a little while.

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Q&A Thursday: Baby Questions

Was this a surprise?



Honestly, I really, really felt we'd have a little more time between Katie and her next sibling. Otherwise, I wouldn't have signed up for another half marathon in August and a full marathon October 1st. I thought I'd have plenty of time to finish out my weight loss and fitness goals and figured sometime next summer our next one would be born.



But at the same time, it wasn't a total surprise. At the start of my goals earlier this year, I had prayed sincerely about whether now might be a good time to take a break from child-bearing for a short time and felt the distinct "no" answer. So we weren't doing anything to prevent a baby from coming, and it wasn't a shock when I found those double lines on that pregnancy test.



Were you disappointed at all?



Actually, I was, for a few hours. I had worked so hard at getting my fitness in order and was having so much success. I'd run a half marathon and was shooting for a full. It was so satisfying to see my weekly mileage go up while the scale inched down every week. I'd lost 35 lbs and was on track to lose the last 25, and at first, I really thought I'd have to give up the marathon goal for sure. That was disappointing.



But it didn't last long. If ever I wondered if children are a blessing, all I have to do is look at any one of my kids and think about how much I love them. And really, there would be other races and more time later to finish out my weight loss goals, while the time I have for child-bearing is relatively short. As I continued to ponder and pray about the news, I laughed at myself. The whole point of working to get myself in shape was so that I could better handle the challenges of pregnancy and my life as a mother. And I'd been so blessed in those goals! How could I get to the point where I'd think they were more important than the reason I was doing them in the first place? There'd always be another marathon, while THIS was the time for this baby to be born.



And as time passed, I started feeling more blessed in the timing of this. If I had known I would be pregnant, I wouldn't have signed up for those races and would probably have given up running when the morning sickness hit. Something to think about other than the nausea and exhaustion really helped me through my worst weeks, and the looming specter of those upcoming events has forced me out the door when I'd rather roll over and go back to sleep.



And I'm excited to have a baby in February, when life is calmer and not much is happening. We have a six-month time frame from October 30th to April 27th where we've never had a baby. I think something exciting and joyous right in the midst of winter sounds wonderful, and by the time I'm up to getting back into life and running, the weather will be perfect for it. If I had a baby next summer, I probably wouldn't be up for running any races next year. Having one in February means I could sign up for all sorts of things to help me get back into shape.



How far apart will Katie and this baby be?



They'll be 21 months, the same spacing we have between Eliza and Harmony and Harmony and Katie. See this post for the spacing between all of our kids.



Do you feel ready to have another baby?



Of course not. But what does that have to do with it? If we always felt ready for the next challenge, there wouldn't be any need for faith.



I have felt reassurance that this baby is part of God's plan for our family, and knowing that I'm doing His will is enough for me. I trust that He'll give me the strength and help He always has in the past. And really, can nine kids really be much different than eight?



How are you feeling?



Not wonderful. I tend to have a honeymoon period at the beginning of every pregnancy, a few weeks of bliss before the morning sickness hits. Then the morning sickness lasts until around week 18, though I start to feel better around week 15. I felt more tired in June, and a slight bit of nausea, but it was mostly a minor annoyance. Then July came, along with the seven-week mark, and the morning sickness hit me like a truck. There were a couple of horrible weeks in there where I barely held on (I was so miserable I even interrupted my friend’s family vacation asking for a pep talk). I took Zofran for a week and it seemed to help really well for the first few days and then did nothing more than take the edge off (the same thing happened the last pregnancy).



On the brighter side, I haven't found the morning sickness to be as debilitating as in the past (maybe because I'm in better shape?), and after a few miserable weeks, it has gotten better, showing up mostly in the afternoons and evenings. I go to bed early (between 8 and 9), and don't really do much after dinner anymore.



So why didn't you give up the idea of a marathon once you found out you were pregnant? Isn't that pretty risky to keep running at such an extreme level?



I've been willing all the way along to do what I need to do to keep this baby safe. If that meant giving up the marathon for now, I'd do it. However, after praying and seeking a priesthood blessing, I have simply felt that I should continue. I've tried to be very in tune with what my body needs and I have made adaptations to my running and I've been very prayerful all the way along.



One big reason I've continued with the running is that I quickly realized that most of my training for a marathon was behind me. During the first five months of this year, I had gone from running taking everything I had (and being a miserable chore) to being an enjoyable part of my life. I'd gone from being able to run for only about 30 minutes straight to being able to maintain that for three hours. I'd gotten to where I could easily carry on a conversation even throughout a long run. Compared to that, adding some more mileage and a bit more time could hardly be more strenuous.



I've done a lot of reading and research and from what I understand and have talked over with my doctor, the two biggest risks to the baby are dehydration and if my body's core temperature rises too high. I carry water with me even on my short runs and I plan my long runs around places to refill my water bottles.



The overheating can occur if I push myself too hard with the training or if I run in the heat of the day. I've modified my training so I take more walk breaks and if I ever feel I'm struggling to catch my breath, I slow down. I've seen my runs go from consistently in the 12-minute mile range to inching now toward 14 minute miles. And while I wish I was faster, I'm glad my body can still run while protecting this little one.



As for the heat of the day, I do all my running in the early morning, and one reason I chose the Mesa Falls marathon is that they have an early start option (at 5:00 a.m.!) so I can finish before the day warms up too much. The other reason for the Mesa Falls is that I'll be 15 weeks along for that one instead of 20 weeks for the St. George. My doctor feels much better about that timing, and she's comfortable with the training I'm doing.



Any thoughts on if it's a boy or girl?



Nope. No clue. I'd be happy either way. It would be nice to have a girl to even out our numbers a bit -- I'd rather have six little girls in a row rather than five and always have an odd one out when we pair up -- but it would be nice to have a little boy again after so many years of girls. Lillian wants a boy, as does Michael, but Joey says he'd be happy with either one (though he blames all these babies for the fact that I won't let him have a BB gun -- want to explain to him I wouldn't let him have one anyway?). The rest of the girls are evenly divided or have no clue that anything is happening.

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