Power 90 W1D1 Day 1 Sculpt 1-2

Weight: 88.3kgs

Ow, ow, ow. And more ow. Considering I only used 2kg weights today, you wouldn't think I would hurt this much! I'm in so much pain you wouldn't believe it! My thighs are killing me, all those squats and lunges are painful. I did all the push-ups on my knees. I cannot believe how out of shape I am. Our goals are a lot less lofty these days, my husband and I have agreed that we're not aiming for 90 days this time, we're aiming for a measly 30 days. After that we can aim for 60 days. The big thing is that if I get pregnant I need to continue exercising, even if I modify the exercises and only use light weights.
Another painful thing? Look at that reset ticker up there! 88.3kgs? Ugh. I am disgusted with myself. Nonetheless, moving onwards and upwards. It's a new day and hopefully at Saturday's weigh-in I'll weigh less than 88kgs...see? My goals are SO not as lofty as they once were! ;)

This really happened... *** Warning: Slightly graphic ***

...I really had a miscarriage. I wanted to write this down while it's fresh in my memory because as hard as it is, I don't want to forget it. I had little doubt when I peed on that stick that I would be pregnant. My Grandad had passed away and I knew that I was so close to him that only I would conceive a baby on the day of his death. It was a small bit of comfort to get me through his funeral knowing that I was pregnant. If it was a boy, I was going to give him the middle name of William which was Grandad's middle name.

At 7 weeks, the day after I got back from a trip to Melbourne, we had our first scan. We saw our little baby with its heartbeat. The baby measured small, only 5 weeks and 6 days and had a low heartbeat of 68bpm but it was there. That was on the Tuesday, on the Friday I freaked out and organised another scan which both my DH and the doctor talked me out of doing. The doctor said that a scan wouldn't do anything, if a miscarriage was going to happen then a scan wouldn't stop it.

I had started to feel better. I had bleeding at 4 weeks, just a tiny amount, nothing to be concerned about. It happened again at 8 weeks. I told myself that it was just because my body had been expecting to have a period. I travelled down to Bunbury with my friend Richy and my parents, we had so much fun on the way down and I made lots of jokes about being pregnant.

My Aunty Phyllis and Uncle Warren were down here with Nanna and I told Nanna in secret that I was pregnant because I still wasn't ready to tell everyone since I was only just 9 weeks. I'd planned to tell my cousin Alicia who was about 4 weeks further along in her pregnancy than me while I was down here.

That night when I went to bed, I had some bleeding. It was different to the other bleeding, still light but I just knew it was different. When I woke up at 1am, I went to the toilet and discovered that I had bleeding that was more like a period bleed. I told Mum that I needed to go to the hospital and she went and got Aunty Phyllis who is a nurse. She told her that she thought I might be having a miscarriage and Aunty Phyllis's response was "are you sure she's pregnant?" because she'd had no idea I was!

Aunty Phyllis was amazing and drove us without a second thought to the hospital. So I was bundled into the car and considered myself lucky because here in Bunbury I'm 5 minutes from the hospital as opposed to 30 minutes in Perth. I was admitted to the emergency department and the doctor did a speculum examination to check my cervix and for clots. I need to add here that I was terrified. A close friend of mine had told me about her miscarriage at 6 weeks in which she passed a clot into the toilet that she had to scoop up and take in a jar to the hospital for them to look at, it was her baby. I knew that I wasn't strong enough to do that.

After the examination the doctor told me that my cervix was closed which was a good sign and that she'd cleared out a clot that was there. She told me that I would have an ultrasound at 8am but to go home and come back if the bleeding got worse or I was feeling dizzy or cramping, etc.

We left the hospital just after 3am. I got about 40 minutes of sleep before I went to the toilet and passed quite a large clot. By this time I'd started to have cramping that was so painful I had begun to feel sick and I begged Mum to take me to the hospital again. We woke Dad and he drove us again to the hospital. I explained what happened and they said they would keep me there until my scan in the morning.

I was given two Panadeine Forte but the pain was still so intense that I was given a Morphine shot as well which allowed me to doze off and on. The doctors and nurses were absolutely fantastic, they never said to me "you're having a miscarriage", they would say "what do you know about the situation?". At one point when the day nurse, Sue, changed my pad she told me that there was about a 20 cent piece sized clot. When she came back she gently told me that the doctor had looked at it and thought that it looked like it was indeed part of the pregnancy sac. The doctor, Niamh, came and told me that I was quite probably having a miscarriage from what she'd seen and that they would need to see if there was anything left of the pregnancy on the ultrasound to see if I needed an operation to clear out the rest of the pregnancy.

8am came and went without a scan but just before 9am Sue came with a jug of water and told me I needed to drink a glass every 5-10 minutes because my scan would be at 9:30am. We worked out that it was a litre of water that I drank. By the time 9:30am rolled around, I was in agony. I had sat up on the bed and was arching my back forward. I had pain in my stomach and back that I had never felt before. I begged Mum to go ask them when my scan would be because I had to pee and I couldn't handle this pain. I told her that I needed to get off the bed and stand up because that's what had helped with the bladder pain at my previous ultrasound. A different nurse came and said they had been going to give me another shot of Morphine but I just asked her to drop the side of the bed so I could stand.

As I got off the bed I felt a gush between my legs. I told Mum that I'd either just passed a mass of blood or urine and the pain intensified to the point that I couldn't even stand upright. I was leaned over the bed in so much pain that I once again felt nauseous. The nurse told us that my scan had been moved to 10:30am because they were doing a long scan and that I could go empty my bladder and start again.

Mum and the nurse both had to help me to the toilet. I took tiny steps and was still hunched over, holding on to both of their arms. When we got to the toilet, I told Mum I needed her to come in with me. I took down my pants and told her that I needed her to check the pad because I couldn't look. I feel both relieved and guilty that I did this because Mum took one look and started crying. She told me not to look and left the room to go get Sue. I sat on the toilet and look anywhere but down, I kept repeating to myself "what has been seen cannot be unseen". I knew that I did not want to have that image in my head because I would not be able to deal with it.

Mum told me later that when she saw it, she felt a massive rush of love for "the blob on my pad" and she just thought "that's my grandchild". It turned out that I had passed the entire baby in one hit. Mum has been incredibly affected by this because my mantra was true and she can never unsee what she saw in that toilet.

I went back to my hospital bed and we started again with the water, it was so different to the first time. We went and had the scan where the ultrasound technician told me that unfortunately there was no sign at all of a pregnancy in my uterus. I was actually glad about this because I really didn't want to go under general anaesthetic to have the D&C. There was no pain in my bladder and I held my pee with no concerns, I didn't even need to go until about 15 minutes after the scan was done.

Shortly after I was wheeled back to the emergency department, I was released to go home. That was it. In a 24 hour period, I had gone from being pregnant to not being pregnant. As I was walking out of the hospital, a woman was walking in who was heavily pregnant and that hit me hard.

You might wonder why I chose to share this on such a public place as Facebook but in December a friend of mine had a miscarriage and she wrote a blog about it, I was glad I had read it because at least I had some idea of what was going to happen. Also, in recent times I have found out that there are a few friends who have been through miscarriages that I didn't know about. I thought that if people could read this, they would know what people go through when they lose a baby. Maybe it'll help you to support a friend or maybe someone on my Facebook will have a miscarriage one day and they'll know that I'm here to support them and I know what they're going through.

I don't think it really hit me about what happened until this morning when I woke up. Yesterday still seems like a bad dream and I'm crying while I type this. I feel so empty and I still can't believe that come November, I won't be holding my baby. :'(

Speech for Grandad's funeral

This is the speech that I wrote and read out at Grandad's funeral. RIP Grandad. :'(

After Grandad passed away, I asked if I could speak at the funeral and I feel honoured to be able to speak here today. I could stand up here and talk about Grandad for hours, partially because he was such an amazing man and I have so many fantastic memories of him but mostly because I really am my grandfather's granddaughter!

When you're a child, your parents are all-knowing but it's your grandparents who are your real heroes, not only do they know everything but they spoil you rotten as well. As children, Jared and I had the pleasure of spending a lot of time with Grandad, we lived with Nanna and Grandad for a period of time and we occasionally travelled on holidays with them. Jared went on several visits to Kalgoorlie with Grandad where he got to visit where Grandad was born and raised, including the site of the blacksmith shop where Grandad's father carried on a blacksmith business when Grandad was a boy during the 1920s. During these visits, Jared has told me, he got to know to Grandad very well and considers it an honour that he had this time to learn about his grandfather's history.

In 1994, Mum and Dad took us on a trip to the UK with Grandad. Jared and I had thought we'd heard all of Grandad's ditties until that trip...I guess it took driving 4,000 miles around Britain to finally hear Grandad's entire repertoire, even now we're not sure we actually ever heard them all. During that trip, we would enter these fantastic, historic buildings. Jared and I would take one trip around and then start in with the "I'm bored!" but Grandad and Dad wanted to look at every single stained glass window and read every single plaque.

In more recent times, since our Poppa, my Mum's father passed away Jared really tried to spend more time with Grandad. He told me that four big things stuck out in his memory, Grandad coming to the one football grand final that he played in, Grandad coming to watch Marshall play soccer, Mikaela's first birthday just last year and the Christmases that we spent with him.

It's rare to come across a man like Grandad, I can honestly say that I have never once heard a bad word said about him. Perhaps I haven't lost all of my childish innocence because to this day he's still my hero. I've always said that "I'll be a mess when Grandad dies.". I could say it so casually because I never truly believed that it would happen. Even after he was admitted to hospital and I visited him on the Friday night, I was still so sure he was going to be okay and absolutely certain that he was still going to make it to 100 years old and get his letter from the Queen. When I got to the hospital on the Saturday before he passed, my childish self still couldn't fathom what was going to happen. I had to be told by my family, two nurses and the Registrar before it even began to sink in that my hero, the man that had been there for me my entire life was no longer going to be a physical part of it. Even now, a part of me can't actually believe that I'm here and doing this.

I have one final story to tell. In order to tell it, though, you need to know that I was seven years old when Grandad's wife, my Nanna, died. I don't remember a lot about that day. I remember going to see Nanna who was laid out in the master bedroom at The Farm. I remember copying Mum and leaning forward to give her a kiss on the forehead, terrified the whole time that she would open her eyes. I remember crying at her graveside because all the adults were crying and that made me sad. What I didn't remember was something that Grandad told me a few years ago, he said that he remembered me coming over to him when we were at the cemetary and giving him a hug and he said that it was part of what gave him the strength to get through the day.

As we left the hospital near midnight on the Sunday that Grandad passed away, I was physically and emotionally wrecked from spending the day at Grandad's bedside. My six year old nephew, Marshall, walked over to me, put his arm around my waist and said "It's okay Aunty Siâny. You've got me. I'll always be here." and I understood why that memory from Nanna's funeral had stuck in his mind all these years.

Grandad, we know that you're in Heaven and we know that this only goodbye for now but that doesn't make this hurt any less. I miss you so much already and it's been less than two weeks since you spoke to me last. You will still be a part of our lives. With every birth of every child and with every marriage and with every birthday you will be in our hearts. You're having an amazing time in Heaven and as broken-hearted as the family and friends that you have left behind are, you have well and truly earnt your reward. We love you and always will. :'(

Well, this is a painful comeback!

So if you're wondering where I've been since I dropped off the radar, so much stuff has happened. I have two quite sad blog entries that I'll add after this one. Firstly, my beloved Grandad passed away at the beginning of the year. I was completely devastated. I spoke at his funeral and I'll post the speech that I wrote. I still miss him so much and this world is a darker place without his shining light in it.

Three days before Grandad's funeral, I found out that I was pregnant. I was so incredibly happy even though my husband was in shock. Unfortunately for my waistline, I didn't exercise and ate complete crap. When you're pregnant there's a whole bunch of things you have to avoid and the easiest thing to buy at work that was "safe" was stuff like chips and gravy. In hindsight, I could've prepared food (but in all fairness, I was incredibly tired!) or even bought alternatives. Either way, I didn't do that and my weight slowly crept back up. Sadly, on the 26th of March, I miscarried the baby. I'm still struggling with this, at work there are five girls who are all pregnant and have noticable bumps and it kills me. I hate that Snooki from The Jersey Shore can be getting herself blackout drunk during the first trimester and have a healthy pregnancy while I didn't drink, didn't smoke, took pregnancy vitamins every day of my pregnancy and didn't even eat bloody soft eggs and still had a miscarriage. Life is unfair. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I want Snooki to have a miscarriage, it's just that I think it's unfair that I did everything right and still had a miscarriage.

Anyway, when it happened, I made a post on my Facebook about it. I don't think enough people talk about miscarriage, it's a topic that's kind of "taboo" and I don't know why. There's nothing to be ashamed of with having a miscarriage and if more people talked about it maybe it wouldn't feel so incredibly lonely when you're suffering through one. I got so much love and support from my friends which is what I really needed. I'll post what I wrote on Facebook after this, too.

I was actually inspired to blog again from a lovely lady called Janet whose blog Love Is Blonde, I came across while reading some articles in Unbearable on Mommyish. She had a miscarriage at 26 weeks and reading about it really touched my heart. It's nice to know that I'm not alone, this kind of pain has been experience by people before and they have gotten through it.

So, moving on to a happier topic. My husband and I are starting Power 90 again from Monday. I'm looking forward to it but also dreading it. I've been doing no exercise at all lately, I stopped doing taekwon-do when I got pregnant and haven't gone back. I won't go back because to me it's a bit pointless because if I get pregnant again I'll have to stop anyway and I'm useless when training because I'm terrified I'll get kicked in the stomach (which actually happened during my last pregnancy at 6DPO!). My husband is going to go back once he's a bit fitter. Either way I'm equally excited and dreading starting P90 again!

Also...I GOT A RAV4 TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's taken ten years and four cars but I finally got it. I'm so excited! It's a bit weird, though, the Rav4 was my dream car...can I give everyone a bit of advice? Aim higher! I was once told that your dream car is meant to be something unobtainable and now I know why...I no longer have a dream car, I just have my car. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely over the moon but I don't think I'll ever have a "dream car" again. Not the way I wanted the Rav! Either way, I get a massive smile on my face every time I walk into the garage and see this...