Sick of Guilt, Hungry for Self-acceptance

I am addicted to working out. There, I said it. Exercise is my drug. At one point in my life before I had kids I worked out at least 2 hours a day, sometimes more. Running, spinning, kickboxing, interval training, weights, cardio, plyometrics, dance, yoga. You name it.

My Weightloss Journey

At my heaviest on my wedding day

Disclaimer: I have never really been overweight - my weight has always been within the guidelines for normal, however I have always thought I was overweight. Always. Maybe it was growing up in the 80's and watching my mom diet and listening to her talk about the value of being thin. Now, as an adult, I understand that being thin is not valuable. Being healthy is. Maybe it was the boy taunting me in junior high or the other boy who taunted me in high school. I can still recall those moments with shame. For the record, I weighed 115 lbs in High School! Maybe it was having family members and friends with eating disorders, bodies shaped by years of torture into starving machines fueled by diet coke and baby carrots. Whatever the reason, I definitely saw something different when I looked in the mirror than what my husband and others close to me saw.

At my thinnest adult weight - 110 lbs

After getting married and hating both the pictures from that special day and the double digit number on the tag, I decided to change my diet and lose some weight. I joined Weight Watchers at work and presto, within a couple of months I was down to my high school weight and then a short time later, even thinner. I am also short, so losing 30 lbs meant I became super thin. So thin that a few of my friends thought I needed an intervention. It made me so mad. At 29 years old, I was fit, wore a size 0 or 2 and felt great about myself. When I look at picture though, it's a bit shocking how thin I was. I totally didn't see it when I looked in the mirror. I wanted to lose more.

Pregnancy Changes Everything

Then I got pregnant with my daughter. I still worked out. My midwife approved continued exercise, and I tried to stay healthy and maintain a healthy body image. I worked out every day (when I didn't go home and fall asleep on the couch at 6 pm). I even ran a 5K in 24 minutes when I was 10 weeks pregnant! Then I started gaining. I tried to view my growing belly with pride, but on the inside, I felt like a failure every time I stepped on the scale.

24 weeks

34 weeks

From exercise addict to badass mother goddess

I walked every day during my pregnancy, no matter what the weather. I even walked 7 miles the day before my daughter was born trying to induce pregnancy and avoid a medical induction. Despite all of my efforts, I still gained 50 lbs with my first pregnancy. On my 5'2" frame, it was all belly. After I had my daughter, I started walking and doing Jillian Michael's as soon as my midwife said it was okay. The baby weight flew off. Pretty soon I was back down to a healthy weight. I was a little heavier than when I got pregnant, but still a size 4-6. I tried to work out every day after she went to sleep. Even though I was hard on myself, I tried to see my body as an amazing maternal force to be reckoned with.

Life Moves On

Me with 2.5 year old Katy

Flash forward three years. Three stressful job changes, preparing our home for sale, a stressful move, living with my parents, moving two more times, buying a second home and getting pregnant with baby number two. Working out still remained a priority and I continued to rely on it to feel happy and feel tremendous guilt when I had to skip a night.

Then I got HG. Hyperemesis Gravidum. Morning sickness so severe that I couldn't keep any food or water down. I started losing weight, had to pack in high calorie foods whenever I could keep them down to stay healthy and functioning for myself and my baby. I didn't have energy to do ANYTHING, so working out was not possible. My HG subsided at about 24 weeks. By then it was 100 degrees outside every day. Working out became a memory. Then I got into a car accident. So in addition to being eleventy months pregnant (well, 27 weeks, but it felt like eleventy months), I was in pain. Then, I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia and put on bed rest. I started gaining...mostly water weight. By the time I had my son at 37 weeks, I had gained 36 lbs total with my pregnancy.


This maternal force felt broken and tired
I went to physical therapy, started walking (as well as I could) and began working out again as soon as my midwife said it was okay. To make things more complicated, I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and breast hypoplasia (insufficient glandular tissue), which resulted in significant breast feeding challenges. Despite my eventual success nursing my son part time and for longer than I was able to do so with his sister, I began to see my body as a failure. I also began to let my body image issues feed that nasty bitch named depression, who in turn started to lie to me about how I look and how important that is to who I am.



Today

I am now 6 months postpartum and have completed the 13 week P90X program and half of the insane, intense cardio program aptly named, Insanity. I still have 10 lbs to lose to be back to my pre-baby #2 weight and about 10-15 more lbs I would like to lose on top of that. I feel tremendous guilt if I skip a workout. I still am fighting a battle with depression and body image issues. I know logically I need to step away from the scale. That I should focus on more than the number on my scale or the labels on my clothes. That I should focus on health and feeling good first and foremost. I am trying to rethink my priorities and let my heart learn what my brain knows about what my body can do, that I am healthy and strong and that I should be proud of myself. 

I want to be a good role model for my daughter. Every time she steps on the scale, I say, "Look at how healthy and strong you are growing." 

I should say the same to myself every day. Baby steps.