Body Talk

Ok, I owe this one to Amy at Anktangle for her post On Body Image, Pregnancy, and BMI and to Lauren at Hobo Mama for her post Fat and Pregnant: Heartbeat Video.

I have struggled with weight and food issues since I started college and began to use eating as a way to comfort and shield myself while in an emotionally abusive relationship.  And it's been a roller coaster of a ride ever since.  I've found a lot of healing along the way, and pregnancy was instrumental in accepting my body for the miraculous things it can do just as it is.

I called my sister when my regular pants didn't fit.  I called her when I could see the inside of my belly button.  I reveled in the fact I was carrying the boys all in front, looking like I had swallowed a basketball (or two).  I loved being round and pregnant.

This was taken at 30 weeks.  I used most of my standing up minutes that day getting good belly pictures.

I was put on bed rest at 24 weeks in an attempt to stop pre-term labor.  It worked for 10 weeks, but during that time, I stayed still.  I didn't move much at all for fear of harming the babies.  I surely didn't exercise.  And when it came time for Gus and Jack to be born, I was physically weak and mentally exhausted.

Between the babies being born, and the stress of them being in the NICU I lost about 50 pounds in 4 weeks.  I had yo-yo'ed in weight from the beginning, though.  I lost 15 pounds in the first trimester from not eating much due to near-constant nausea.  I only gained about 16 pounds from pre-pregnancy weight to delivery, but the doctors weren't concerned because with the first trimester weight loss it fell into an acceptable range of gain.

So there I was with colicky, refluxy newborns.  Weight was the last thing on my mind.  I ate more food, and of better quality, than I had ever eaten before.  Between pumping for and then nursing two babies, I needed all that fuel.

But-- and here's the kicker-- I was in survival mode.  I did not exercise.  I hardly even showered.  I certainly didn't sleep much.  Mostly I sat on the couch and nursed the boys and ate.  Day and night.  Literally all.the.time.  

I continued on like that for months.  And by the time things settled down and I actually began to see glimmers of a life off the couch, I had gained back ALL the weight, and then some.  And my new normal had settled onto me like the extra pounds.

Right now, I am heavier and unhealthier than I have ever been.  I am not brave enough to give you specific numbers, but suffice it to say, I am a fat mama.  I'm scared to diet because I intend to breastfeed the babies until they self-wean and I am terrified of losing my milk supply again, even if they don't rely on it as their only sustenance anymore.

I understand that I don't have to fit society's expectation of a woman's body.  I never will, and that I can embrace.  I loved my body when it was strong and healthy, no matter the numbers attached.

Right now I am searching to find a way back to strength, back to health.  I know it will be easier when spring arrives and we can go to the park again.  Until then, I have taken the first steps to reclaiming a part of myself from before, one that can co-exist with my mama-self.  I joined a yoga studio and started going to class again, and I scheduled an appointment to talk to a therapist to begin working through the trauma of this past year.

I will move more and eat less.  I will keep reading about other real women who love their bodies.  I will stop hiding behind the camera and allow myself to be photographed more right now, as I am.

I can't even find a good "bad" picture of me to share. 

And Lauren?  This one's for you.  Thanks for getting the ball rolling for me to write about this.

This ended up being the day before the boys were born.  I'm glad I have this picture.