Competitve swimmers are a unique breed of humans who participate in torturous, monotonous exercise for several hours a day, six-seven days per week. There have been loads of articles written about these creatures and the special personality type that succeeds in the sport (I love this one especially). I started swimming competitively year-round when I was five years-old and enjoyed 15 years of self-imposed sadism, until a shoulder injury finally put my career as a swimmer to rest. In my post-swimming life I continued on with that unique mentality and embraced hours of boring cardio workouts at the gym. I’d clock at least 90 minutes per day and could barely handle the thought of a minute less. My philosophy was simple: exercise was an all or nothing endeavor and the latter was not an option. Sure, I had peaks and valleys throughout the years (pre-wedding: very high peak!, mono: very low valley) but I mostly stayed consistent and headstrong regarding my routine and fitness level.

And then, I had a baby.

Starting to exercise after Waverley was born was a drawn-out, very emotional process. I found myself up against a lot of barriers to overcome, both physical and mental. Physically, I was incredibly out of shape. I stopped exercising completely for five months while I had a stubborn case of mono and then found out I was pregnant right when I began to recover and workout again. Then, the awful morning sickness and exhaustion started and going to the gym seemed impossible after long work days and the general feeling of wanting to crumble in bed at every opportunity. My main form of exercise during my first pregnancy were long walks throughout Annapolis and a few gym sessions when I could manage. After Waverley was born I foresaw those long walks continuing, however, did not account for the brutal recovery I had to endure after an emergency cesarean and post-op infection. Then, when Waverley was three weeks old we packed up to move to Alaska and spent eight weeks living out of suitcases whilst caring for a newborn. Then, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and I lived in my brother’s living room for months in order to be close to my dad in Oregon during his final weeks of life. When Waverley was almost seven months old, I returned to Alaska and finally joined a gym. After all of this, I faced nearly two years of relative inactivity in addition to the weight gain of pregnancy– plus the destroyed midsection of carrying a 10.7 pound baby.

“My mind was a constant source of negativity, always reminding myself of the Division I athlete I used to be, a person I would never be again.”

Mentally, I was overwhelmed and embarrassed. I was short-of-breath at the easiest of levels on the treadmill and elliptical, which was not a phenomenon I was used to. My body couldn’t bend in yoga like it used to. My Jillian Michaels’ DVDs– which I was once obsessed with– collected dust and laughed at my futile, exhausted efforts to perform high knees and push-ups. My mind was a constant source of negativity, always reminding myself of the Division I athlete I used to be, a person I would never be again. I knew I had a long road ahead and my all-or-nothing fitness mentality simply could not survive with the arduous schedule of caring for an infant full-time. My former swimmer came head-to-head in an epic internal battle with my current self: the exhausted, isolated, out-of-shape new mother whose baby hated the gym’s daycare and who now lived in a new town without childcare, friends, or a known way of life.

“My goal now is to set a wholesome example for Waverley and her baby sister for a healthy perspective on fitness and body image.”

We started out slow. I was determined to get Waverley used to the gym’s daycare and we started out in 10-20 increments. At first, I was devastated to get called in to retrieve her after such a short “workout” (my former self laughed, saying this was barely a warm-up!) but the time gradually increased. I pushed through my Jillian Michaels’ DVDs during her naps, perhaps only surviving for 15 minutes prior to collapsing on the floor as my poor atrophied muscles were not used to such rigorous activity. The weather warmed up and we made our way outside for hikes and walks amongst Anchorage’s many trails. I started to feel more like myself, despite little evidence in my physique. I began to embrace 20-30 minute workouts as good enough. My former self wouldn’t even bother with that, saying it wasn’t worth washing my hair for, yet my new self knew this was all I could do for the day and it was okay. It was good. It was great. Do what you can, when you can became my new mantra.

The extra weight I carried after Waverley was born stuck around for a long time. I finally felt “normal” when she was approximately 18 months old (three years and a lifetime after initially being diagnosed with mono), despite many clothes still not fitting right. I continued to grow accustomed to my new body and wondered if my hips would ever go back into their pre-baby position when I got pregnant with this little one. I wasn’t back to my pre-Waverley weight and that’s okay. It’s okay. My goal now is to set a wholesome example for Waverley and her baby sister for a healthy perspective on fitness and body image, something I never possessed before them. I hope to lead by example that exercise and an active lifestyle are necessary for our physical and mental health but it does not need to rule our lives…unless, of course, they become competitive swimmers in which I will pray hard for their sanity. I want to show them that indulging in sweet treats every now and then is good for our souls and in doing so I hope they learn the art of moderation.

“Do what you can, when you can…Be kind to yourself.”

Motherhood changed my perspective on fitness completely. I find myself now with much less time to exercise and much less energy than before, yet I have new motivation. Like with any essential life task, figuring out how to succeed in exercise post-baby is a learning process and some mothers catch on quicker than others. My fitness routine now is not merely so I can fit into a certain pair of jeans or feel comfortable in a swim suit, it’s because maintaining an active and healthier lifestyle helps me perform better in all of my roles: working mother, stay-at-home mother, wife, woman. I realize now that feeling fit does not require tedious hours at the gym to accomplish; even 30 minutes per day will do and I’ve learned the hard lesson of quality over quantity (something foreign to swimmers). Perhaps one day I will return to my former physical prowess when the kids are older and I have more time to devote to myself. In the meantime I am celebrating my little victories, like the moment I realized I broke through my former all-or-nothing mental confliction. It occurred this past winter when I only had 15-20 minutes in between appointments and chose to pop into the gym for the shortest workout ever. I was newly pregnant, exhausted, and nauseated, yet left feeling proud for my efforts rather than belittling them. I’ve been able to carry over my new fitness perspective into this pregnancy and make time for 30-45 minute workouts frequently, rather than saying no completely when I can’t clock in at least twice that.

“Sometimes life gets in the way of our best intentions and learning to roll with that is the best lesson a mother can learn.”

I’ve received some questions about body image and motherhood from lovely readers, which is a novel entirely its own. However, if you find yourself in the throes of trying to workout again after having a baby my advice to you is this: be kind to yourself. Do the very best you can and learn to recognize that your best now is different than your best before motherhood. Make time for yourself but don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t happen. Sometimes life gets in the way of our best intentions and learning to roll with that is the best lesson a mother can learn.

We just do what we can, when we can.