Splitting
"It's like a zipper," my physical therapist explains. "Your abs have fibers going across between them, and those are what is splitting."
We can't check or really fix the diastasis recti, she informs me, until the baby is out.
"What about prevention?" I ask.
She gives me one of those noncommittal head wobbles and shows me some core exercises I can do on a balance ball. But we both know that once a zipper starts to pull apart, you're eventually going to have to replace it.
"It's normal," the prenatal Pilates instructor reassures me. "Don't worry, we'll be focusing on legs and arms."
But normal doesn't mean it's fine. If I lay down on my back, I can't get straight up anymore. I have to roll over onto my side and lever up with my arms. Otherwise, I can actually see the disturbing angle down the front of my abdomen where my split abs buckle: mountain fold origami crease.
Over the last couple of weeks, the little burning sensation has moved from just above my belly button to just below my ribs. So maybe I should let it go: the seam has given almost all the way out. But I don't know, maybe there are layers.
Core seems important, and never in my life has mine been weak. It turns out that trying to protect it means skipping a lot of good stuff: circus-type inversions on ropes or poles, bracing my body to make a bouldering move. Getting up from the floor. I want to do all of those, still. Yesterday, I found myself staring longingly at a set of pull up bars in the park.
Pull ups are right out. But somehow I imagine that, although rolling over in bed is painful and takes so long I fall asleep sometimes, I should still be able to do the fun stuff. After all, my hips and pelvis feel better once I get warmed up. I’m allowed and encouraged to work my obliques.
We finally go top rope climbing. Although London seems to have a bouldering gym on every corner, there are only about three and a half that offer top roping (the kind with a harness). The closest is an hour's bus ride away. I’ve been going to the bouldering gym, doing workouts with the free weights upstairs, then halfheartedly climbing an easy route or two: no falls, safe for baby, no challenge and no fun.
Top roping is worth the bus ride. The climbs are well set, and I feel safe to climb hard routes in my pregnancy harness. I scrape the skin from both knees, hauling my heavy body up with arms and feet, belly bumping me off the wall.
My forearm muscles get pumped, my calluses activate, I don't tweak my abs. I’m out of climbing shape, panting like climbing stairs, dusting off rusty technique. But I can climb the tall walls, crimp holds, lever my body. Here’s one more way I can still be me.
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