I was 130 pounds the day I found out we were going to have The Poo, and I felt overweight.
When I met Mr. C I was 26 years old and 123 pounds. At nearly 5-feet-8-inches tall, I was all legs. I could wear – and eat – anything I wanted. Four years later, the digits 3 and 0 snuck up on me and my metabolism, leaving me to diet frantically to get back down to 125 for my wedding.
Oh, the agony of losing five whole pounds!
Looking back on those days now, I am so envious of that girl, the one who thought cutting Big Macs out of her diet was a sacrifice.
I didn’t gain much weight with The Poo, about 21 pounds, thanks to grief and gestational diabetes. Losing it was easy, and within six weeks I was back down to 142, 12 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight. I felt pretty good about it, and when we contracted two rounds of the rotovirus within two weeks, I was sitting pretty at 136.
Ha! I thought. I’ll lose those six pounds in no time!
Then we found out we were moving to Illinois, and I went a little crazy. I went back on anti-depressants. I started eating my way through Western New York.
And then we we got here, I spent many lonely autumn afternoons eating burgers and milkshakes at Culver’s with The Poo, surrounded by strangers and left alone with an 18-month-old while my husband worked 65 hours a week. I ate out of boredom, sadness and loneliness.
I ate.
A lot.
Last January I weighed in at 158, the highest number I’ve ever seen on my scale. I was so disgusted with myself that I blew a wad of hard-earned freelancing dough on a treadmill and a Weight Watchers membership.
I walked and I ate less and I made better choices. And I lost 13 pounds over the next 12 months. The day we got back from our Christmas travels two months ago, I was 145 pounds, three pounds heavier than I was six weeks post-partum.
I was thrilled. It was hard work, but it was do-able. I saw 15 pounds as less of a challenge, because I’d already lost 13 just by using common sense.
Two days later, I peed on a stick.
Despite my morning sickness, I’ve still managed to gain eight pounds since I found out I am pregnant. I’m certain it is from my almost constant eating – I only feel better when I am chewing. I popped early, my remaining belly fat making me look five months gone, not 14 weeks.
I hate how I look right now.
And I hate that I hate it.
I should be reveling in this new life inside me, thrilled to have physical evidence of my small bundle of joy. Instead, I suck in my gut and fight the urge to begin every interaction with a disclaimer: I’m not fat, I’m pregnant.
If I am lucky enough to maintain a reasonable weight-gain with this pregnancy, I will still be close to 170 pounds when Shaggy is born. Last time around, I didn’t know what I didn’t know. This time, I am already fearful of the scale and the way I will look after this child is born.
I should be thanking my body, I should be grateful for my health, which is providing a safe heaven for my second baby.
Instead, I look in the mirror and see nothing but fat.
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I know Shaggy is already here but you shouldn’t have let a little weight gain get you down. Also, you should try to make a healthy alternative so you can eat your favorite snacks. I think when you are pregnant you can gain extra weight because you have the baby. Also, you have a loving and supportive family so don’t let it get you down.
Honestly, at 5′8, 130 pounds is a bit too light. I understand the “need” to be under 130 pounds at all times, but there just comes a point where it’s not reasonable to expect that of yourself and you HAVE to accept the change and realize that you’re never going to get back to that effortless “high school” weight, and you need to realize that you’re at a HEALTHY weight rather than “super-model” weight and still absolutely gorgeous.
I happen to be 5′4.5″ (yes, that half-inch is very important to me), I gained 35 pounds with my first pregnancy (at 18), lost all but 15 pounds of it in a year and a half (my then-husband was in college, I spent a LOT of time alone with my baby depressed and EATING because of it), and freaked out for a while about the fact that I wasn’t as skinny as I was in high school (I was lucky if I could manage to maintain a weight of 100 pounds, that WITH stuffing my face constantly–it actually affected my pregnancy, too, I was ordered to do no more than half an hour of moderate activity a day).
I realized when my baby was 3 (21, and 115 pounds), that I was actually at a considerably healthier weight than I had been, and a lot of what I had picked up was muscle–playing with a little boy is quite a workout, especially when he loves to be tossed up in the air like mine does.
I am now 23 and just over the halfway point of my second pregnancy, and I popped early too–something about the second pregnancy just makes your body want to jump the gun a little bit. At 2 months along, I just felt “fat,” I couldn’t wear skinny shirts anymore, I couldn’t wear my jeans without having to leave them unbuttoned (lots of long t-shirts hid that little factor), and I felt ridiculously unattractive, and not too great considering the fact that I was puking a lot and felt like absolute crap even more often. That “too fat for my regular clothes and too small for maternity clothes” stage has been really annoying. I STILL can’t wear the maternity pants my friend gave me, they’re all too big around the hips, so I get around it by wearing a larger size of jeans with a belt. The tops, however, have been rather useful since the 3rd month came along, and now I’m FINALLY to the point (at roughly 5 months) where it’s obvious that I’m pregnant and not just “putting on weight.”
I was worried about what I was going to look like after I have this baby–I’m still worried about what my boobs are going to do after this one, I hope to go back down to about the size I was before I got pregnant–and then I realized that even if I only get back down to 10 pounds above what I weighed before I got pregnant, it’s not the end of the world, because I’ll still be at a good weight for my height, and J will quit whining about me being “too skinny.” Considering that 120-125 pounds is a good weight for my height–not too heavy, not too light–I would have to say that 130-135 pounds is considerably underweight for your height, and if you’re even at 150, you’re still not anything even remotely close to being or looking “fat.” When you look in the mirror, try to see what your husband sees, what your family and friends see, rather than the lies your eyes are telling you. I’m sure they all think you’re just beautiful, and will gladly tell you so.
A request for people to think about the ethics of buying maternity clothes. Really, if people are willing to bring a baby on this planet, you’d better ensure the planet is in a good state! So please try and think about, for example, the cloth the items are made from, the conditions of the employees where they’re manufactured and the ethics of the clothes retailer. Oh, and endeavour to pass on, rather than discarding. Thanks!!!!
Hello! edakaeg interesting edakaeg site!
My heart goes out to you…this is such a tough battle for many of us. But you articulated your thoughts so clearly…and for me, once I’ve articulated the feelings, then it’s often easier to manage them. I don’t have any easy answers for you. I’m sitting here 40 lbs heavier than I was when Thing One was conceived (and was probably 20 lbs overweight then).
Hugs. And Grace. Give yourself a bit…you deserve it.
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