I was a competitive figure skater for 11 years. I got injured so many times I became afraid of pain.

• I competed in four US figure-skating championships in my 11-year career
• I suffered several injuries, including being dropped on my head and knocked unconscious.

When I get paper cuts, I freak out. If I get blisters on my feet, I can't help but limp.

I wasn't born with low pain tolerance. I developed it by getting hurt often as a child.

I was a competitive figure skater for 11 years, from ages 8 to 19. While I love watching the Olympics, cheering on American skaters like Mariah Bell and Nathan Chen, I'm more than just a fan because I know the toll this sport can take.

My expertise was pair skating and ice dance, where the woman gets tossed around like salad — and sometimes gets dropped. I got injured so many times that it made me terrified of getting hurt or feeling pain during everyday activities. That became even more of an issue when I was set to give birth to my son.

All the injures I accumulated through skating

I wasn't forced to skate, but it wasn't entirely my choice either. It was driven by the dreams of my big brother, my skating partner for most of my career. I liked the applause, the traveling, and the costumes, so I kept doing it, despite the pain.

I broke bones and got stitches. I had searing shin splints and heel spurs that felt like nails driving through the bottom of my feet. I sprained ligaments, strained muscles, and incurred gruesome bruises all over my body.

I finally quit when my partner at the time dropped me on my head and I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up strapped into a stretcher by the side of the rink and saw a semicircle of my friends crying around me, I decided I never wanted to get hurt so needlessly again.

As a result of all these injuries, I became a risk-averse adult. I avoided hikes with friends in case the trail was too steep. I sat in the lodge during ski vacations. I wouldn't dare dive into a pool.

The idea of pain during childbirth terrified me

After I got married and was pregnant with our son, I was terrified of giving birth. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to push through the pain. Instead of feeling like a fierce earth mama or an elite athlete, I felt like a wimp.

When the contractions started, I felt two drills digging into my pelvis and a knife pressing into my back. My heart raced and my hands shook. I doubted I'd be able to handle it.

"You're amazing!" my husband exclaimed, wiping the hair back from my face.

While he and the nurses cheered me on, I closed my eyes and called up all the difficult things I'd done as an athlete. I'd been thrown into the air not knowing whether my foot would find the landing. I'd slammed into the ice and gotten back up again. I'd iced my knees and wrists to reduce swelling right before competitions.

The difference now was that I wanted to meet my son. There was no ambivalence and no turning back.

I pushed harder. It felt like the slice of a million skate blades, the impact of a million falls, and the crack of a million broken bones. I might have been out of practice, but the pain was familiar, and my body still knew how to push through it. I thought about our son and pushed some more.

When they put him on my chest, I couldn't believe he was finally here and that I'd made it happen. I've learned that sometimes when we need it most, inner strength can be found in the place we least expect.

Jocelyn Jane Cox competed in the US Figure Skating Championships four times and has coached the sport for over 20 years. Her memoir in progress is about losing her mother on her son's first birthday and how we often have to put on a "performance" in our daily lives, even when not wearing skates.