Hippy Chicks

I played division 1 college volleyball...I'm not saying this to brag (although I think the years spent doing nothing but running, jumping and otherwise tearing apart my body limb by limb warrant the right to brag should I choose to do so)...I'm mentioning it because there was a lot of damage done to my body during those years. I've been putting off surguries for years, and have learned to live with the chronic pain in my shoulders, knees and hips.

Guys used to come to our games, because lets face it most volleyball players at that level are in really good shape and the uniforms are spandex, but I think they were always surprised with how physically demanding volleyball is. I mean you are throwing yourself full speed onto a hardwood floor, repeatedly, for the duration of 2 hour match. It's basically like football in terms of the full body contact, but instead of diving into a soft pile of a 250lb person filled with water and fat, you're diving into solid wood or in some cases a concrete slab covered with 1 inch of rubber, and oh yeah, you're not wearing pads.

I've run a timed mile in waist deep water in the ocean, because my shin splints were so bad I could barely walk on the pavement, and my coach was that big of an ass.

I did so much jump training that I used to be able to leap jump 4 stairs at a time, the entire height of a stadium, not easy for someone my height with little natural jumping ability. At one point I could do 100+ double jumps with a rope. This required a tremendous amount of physical conditioning.

My nose has been operated on because I have been hit so many times and so hard square in the face.

During halftime at a TU mens basketball game, I had a mini surgury by a doctor in the back of a training room. My leg was drained by giant ass needles due to severe swelling/bruising - I still have permanent indentations on my leg from the needles. They wanted to make sure it was taken care of before the next days practice.

My first year of college, we spent about a half hour everyday diving onto the floor, jumping back up on our feet, saying something sadistic like "no pain, no mercy," then diving again, over and over and over and over and over...lots of puking and bleeding that year.

By the time I finished up at Temple, I was working out for over 4 hours a day, everyday - I could do things I never thought possible. In many ways I am very thankful to have been shown what I am capable of accomplishing when I am pushed to my absolute physical limits (although I now have zero desire to step foot into any type of a gym).

My point in telling you all this, because I do have one, is that I can take pain. Never once did I quit, cry (except maybe at night to my mom) or so much as show any sign of weakness. That was for over four years, over four hours a day, probably somewhere around 320 days a year. We're talking over 5,000 hours of hard core punishment and pain. Knowing that I accomplished those physical feats, provides no comfort for childbirth portion of this nine month ride that will conclude shortly. I am terrified, the thought of what that will be like makes me woozy.

I can feel my hips starting to shift, pulling apart and getting ready for the inevitable, with every little twinge of my hips now, I want to cry, and I think I'm showing more weakness now than I ever have in my entire life. At this very moment, as my hands are typing, my palms are sweating just thinking about it.

We have our first childbirth class this Saturday, they told me to bring two pillows - because, you know, I'm sure pillows make all the f*cking difference in the world in terms of preparing you to push a watermelon out of your body.