I knew it instinctively. There were subtle signs: an increased sense of smell and the way I needed to catch my breath earlier and more often when running, biking, or simply climbing up stairs.
I was pregnant.
That weekend we went camping in Fruita, CO for a mountain biking trip and it was there—before ever taking any kind of pregnancy test for confirmation—I experienced for the first time a complicated set of emotions around being active during pregnancy that I would be (and still am) navigating for the next nine months.
Along with the excitement and fear (terror, really) of bringing a new human into the world, there was a deep desire to hold onto my independence and claim that pregnancy wouldn’t change my activity level too much.
And then there was an acute sense of protectiveness that seemed to contradict that desire for independence.
What was too much? When could I push? When should I pull back? What was truly safe? How would I know if I was pushing too much? How would my activities effect this growing and vulnerable being?
