I’m not fat. I’m pregnant.
I have to tell myself that every day. And I’ve only now begun to believe it.
I’ve always struggled with my weight. When I was younger, I was fat. End of story.
The summer before my senior year, something miraculous happened. I dropped 45 pounds in 3 months. I don’t know how. I didn’t even realize I’d lost weight until a friend picked me up to spin me around and his back didn’t break.
The weight stayed off for years…until I started dating Mephistopheles. I put 15-20 pounds back on. After we broke up, I lost the weight, and at age 26, I was back at my senior year of high school weight.
Who could still wear her prom dress? This gal!
Then I got pregnant. And my clothes slowly started to get tight…and then not fit at all. I cried.
At 24 weeks, I’ve gained 21 pounds. I’m not supposed to have put on more than 18.
And it doesn’t matter how many times people say:
- You’re pregnant: you’re supposed to put on weight.
- Don’t worry. It’ll come off when you breastfeed.
- I’m pretty sure half of that weight is in your boobs.
- You look like what I look like now, and I’m not pregnant.
- You were small before, so you need to put on a few extra pounds.
- The doctor told you not to exercise your first trimester, so that’s expected.
None of it makes me feel better right now.
You know what else doesn’t make me feel better? When midwives say, “How much weight have you put on? Mmm-hmm. A normal pregnancy is only 25-35 pounds…. You don’t want to have a really big baby because that means you’ll need a C-section.”
Responses (in my head) to this included:
- After 2 miscarriages, I don’t care how big the baby is. I just care that she’s alive.
- My cat weighs 9 pounds. If the baby is smaller than that, I won’t know what to do with her.
- After 9 months, I don’t think I’ll care how she comes out as long as she does.
Favorite Comment From Last Post: “We still don’t know how the “Sprint unlimited for life” applies to zombies.”—Dana