Well, I didn’t get to actually work out this weekend (illness intruded in the form of a 24-hour bug), but I visited and scoped out two different gyms. One is a local place that’s highly regarded, and another is the area YMCA.

I’m actually leaning toward the YMCA, in part because they have other programs that the family could participate in. But the big question remains: should we join at all?

After all, once the nicer weather comes, I could step out the door and go for a walk, or go to the park. (But there’s no child care so that’s dependent on hubby. Or I’d have to bring them along in the jog-stroller or something.) I could also step in front of the TV and do a killer DVD workout. (But there’s no child care.) Would I actually put the kid(s) in a stroller or whatever and haul them on the subway/bus to get to the gym on a regular basis? Would I feel comfortable leaving them to focus on myself? Do we have the money? How important is this? Hmm…

The first gym I belonged to was in Houston. I’d just graduated from college, and moved back in with my mom. I was unemployed, and I was totally kicking butt doing Weight Watchers. Before it was all through, I’d lose 70 pounds all together. Working out — pretty much 6 days a week — was a bit part of my weight-loss success (such as it was).

The gym was in a strip mall, and I got to know the place, with its thin grey carpeting and bright flourescent lights, very very well. When I’d walk in, the employees on duty would just nod at me in recognition — there was no need for me to show my membership card. Then, I’d hop on my exercise machine of choice — the mighty Stairmaster — and, often, say hello to the folks to my left and right, many of whom I knew from many hours of side-by-side sweaty toil. I loved it. And when, months into my routine, I was invited to go running — something that scared me to death (me? a runner?) — I was able to run a full 3 miles without stopping. The Stairmaster had trained me well.

It was also here, and at another location, where I graduated from circuit training and learned about free weights. Somewhere along the way, I started dating a hot, muscular, long-haired guy. He’d skate around at street festivals bare-chested with his pet snake around his neck. (I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.) He taught me a lot about proper form in weight lifting. (I still feel bad that I broke his heart.)

I love the gym. It’s a refuge. A place to focus on myself and my body. Since that first gym, I’ve been a member of bare-bones gyms and top-of-the-line health clubs. Now, thanks to all your encouragement, I’m seriously looking at another type of gym — one with child care. I’m psyched. I plan to go tomorrow, and take the boy, so we can both try out the facilities. Hubby will probably join us, too. This will just be a free three-day trial, but it might just turn into something wonderful.

My husband and I walked through Grand Central Station after this morning’s appointment with the OBGYN, staring up at the starry ceiling and wondering at how everyone but us seemed to have a camera and/or be part of a tour group.

“That was me,” he said, gesturing toward the crowds. He and his older brother started visiting NYC regularly in 1995, and, every time, they’d go to Grand Central, usually hauling along the NY newbie who’d joined their party that particular year. And now, here we were, walking hand-in-hand through the station as NYC residents. Again. Together. Husband and Wife. Parents. About to add another to our brood. He squeezed my hand and his voice shook a little as he told me how sentimental he was feeling, as he pondered everything we’d been through to get us to this point, and everything that lay ahead.

This is why I married the guy. He feels, and feels deeply. And he’s not afraid to show it — at least not to me. He amazes me every day with his wonderful fathering. It’s so amazing to be here, now, with everything that’s going on, and to take a moment to appreciate the wonder of it all.

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Since this is ostensibly a weight loss/fitness/body image blog, I’ll say I weighed in at 235 at the doctor’s office this morning, and I still have 10 weeks of big-time growing to do. Well, hopefully I’m not growing so much, but the baby is now 3 lbs and needs to gain 4 to be the same size as #1 when he was born. We’ve been thinking about joining a gym, but one side of me wonders whether it would be money well spent. Would I actually go? There are tons of other, easier ways of getting exercise, but the gym has child care and gives me a dedicated place where I can focus on my body. It’s also like $60/month which isn’t terrible but is definitely an expense. Hmm… Thoughts?

The contractions finally calmed down, so I guess they were Braxton-Hicks (”practice”) contractions, and nothing to worry about, but boy did I worry for a few hours there.

I’m trying to keep a stiff upper lip about the whole house sale matter, but it’s one of those things that hangs over our heads, and we smile and hum and try to think of other things, but it’s still there, behind the scenes. It’s probably mostly a matter of our losing a lot (or all?) of our fairly substantial down payment, and not a matter of having to shell out more (which we don’t have), but I’m not certain. Until the sale actually happens, we won’t know the true damage.

Anyway… we have our health! We have each other! And tons of LOVE! Our son is the most gorgeous creature in the universe, and so sweet, and he’s just begun telling us that he loves us. We are all together, and we are about to be a family of four, which I expect means more love all around. We both have amazing extended families, and, though they’re far away, their presence makes a difference in our lives. We’ve got so much to be thankful for, and, in so many important ways, we are doing fantastically. I’ll leave it at that today, to keep the negativity at bay. But thanks for “listening”.

Goodness, money woes are depressing. The subjects of suicide and bankruptcy keep coming up in discussions between my husband and I. This mostly because we have a house we are readying for sale in perhaps the worst market ever. He’s intent on not losing money in the transaction; I’m intent on not losing any more money, and getting out as quickly and painlessly as possible (which doesn’t mean painlessly at all). It totally totally sucks to think that all of our savings could go away in an instant… or perhaps it has already gone away as our once-beloved home has dropped in value before our eyes. Poof!

And then, we are bringing a baby (and attendant expenses) into all this. What are we, crazy? Then, I keep reminding myself that it is our family, and the people we love, that are the things of real importance in life. I have to keep telling myself this, to keep from swimming into the vortex. We are better off than lots of people, I keep repeating internally. The money we’d be losing is money a lot of people don’t have in the first place, right?

Sorry to spew such anxiety and woe in public. I just had a really awful IM conversation with my hubby about our situation — specifically, about selling the house (he’d just talked to our real estate agent) — and I’m on a downward curve on my emotional roller coaster. Just really had to get it out there because I don’t really have anyone with whom to share worries of such a serious nature. And that’s sad, too, I guess. Sigh.

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P.S. and now I am having contractions. Stress, do you think?

I’m still here. Things have been a little nuts. I got to go down to Austin for the SXSW interactive festival, which was fantastic but pretty disruptive to my creature-of-habit type lifestyle. I feel like I’m barely keeping up with the immediate demands of maintaining the household, maintaining my job, and avoiding full-body misery.

I’m at 29 (almost 30) weeks now, which is a bit frightening, but also something of a relief given I’m starting to experience all of the yuckiness associated w/trimester 3: heartburn (lots of it), hip pain, physical awkwardness, constipation (worse than before), difficulty sleeping, and general huge-ness. I’ve now hit 230 lbs, which is about 10 pounds shy of where I ended up in my last pregnancy. And, despite heartburn, I am having a hard time (probably because of the accompanying stress) moderating my eating. Not that I’m trying that hard. Harumph, whine, complain, whinge…

Everything’s going fine, really. I am just the most boring blogger ever. So it’s probably better for me to stop this post now, before I bore you more!

Another NYT quote:

Mr. Walsh says he started seeing the link between clutter and weight problems when readers of his first book on decluttering began telling him how they also had lost weight as a result of getting organized. Clutter and fat, he realized, are not so different.

“All of us deal constantly with the urge to consume more,’’ he writes. “We spend too much, we buy too much, and we eat too much. In the same way we surround ourselves with so much clutter, we overwhelm our bodies with caloric clutter consisting mainly of sugar and fat.”

From the NYT:

As more patients seek treatment for both eating disorders and substance abuse, a complicated set of mixed messages can arise. The response to addiction is abstinence; but quitting food is not an option.

“We’re trying to get our patients to find effective behaviors and life skills,” said Dr. Kevin Wandler, the vice president for medical services at Remuda Ranch, which addresses both eating disorders and addiction at its facilities in Arizona and Virginia.

“Eating normally would be an effective behavior, but it’s easier to give up alcohol and drugs because you never need it again,” Dr. Wandler said. “If your drug is food, that’s a challenge.”