You love your crunches, I love my Crunchies. But, Michelle, there’s something I need to tell you.
There is an uber-fit baby on the way.
Commando Steve and Michelle Bridges have combined their improbably-shredded genes to create a new life. So many congratulations to you both.
Greedily guzzling coverage of the impending super baby, I read about Michelle’s plan to stay active during her pregnancy. Which, given that Michelle Bridges has built a $53million empire on changing Australia, one wobbly middle at a time, is not even a little bit ambitious.
“I’ll be exercising right up until the day I go into hospital. I’m training for the main event.”
Michelle, you and I have something in common. (Well, two things actually. I’m also quite a fan of Commando Steve and his impressive torso, but I digress). You see, I am currently 34-weeks pregnant. This is my third child and along the way, I’ve learned a couple of things.
Basically, babies give zero shits about your plans.
Now in the spirit of openness, I’ll admit that you and I are in very different starting positions for these pregnancies. You, with your love of crunches, and me with my love of Crunchies. None the less though, we are two women preparing to welcome our own bundles.
Gaze upon these excellent genes… (Post continues after gallery.)
The one thing that I have learned throughout my pregnancies is that you shouldn’t place too much expectation on yourself. I know that goes against all of your motivational speeches (big fan, BTW) but realistically in pregnancy sometimes you just have to accept that it might not happen, because it’s no longer just you making the calls.
Sure, you might be feeling all glowy and wonderful now but babies have a way of changing our plans considerably.
During this pregnancy, I promised myself I would eat better. I would give my baby everything it required through proper nutrition. This baby would enter the world on the best possible starting block, all thanks to me. I read countless articles on how a mother’s diet affects babies both in childhood and later in life. I knew what I needed to consume to ensure the best possible specimen of a child come August.
Then my baby got involved, and I was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum which basically means, extreme morning sickness. Not the kind that passes as the day goes on, or the kind that can be managed with ginger-flavoured everything. I’m talking the kind that causes your own saliva to make you violently ill, the kind that sees you hospitalised for dehydration because someone found you passed out in the bathroom.
For three months I could barely walk. The only thing this baby would tolerate was salty, salty chips. Not even water would sit in the same manner that a giant bag of Kettle chips.
I was disappointed with myself- this wasn’t the plan. I was supposed to nourish my baby with the best of everything. Of course I knew it wasn’t the ideal diet but like I said, I had no say. So I ate what I could and I tried to convince myself that something was better than nothing. I felt as though I had already let my body and my baby down before she was even born.