Let me start by stressing that I'm not extremely overweight. I'm just slightly, shall I say, "softened". If I were 10 pounds heavier, I'd be miserable. If I were 10 pounds lighter, I would feel more confident. My confidence wouldn't come from being thin-it would come from ACHIEVING the goal. It would come from the knowledge that I set my mind to it and I did it.
But for some reason, I can't do it.
Before starting my infertility journey-I was very active and I worked out on a regular basis. I was thin, fit, athletic and confident. For the first 6 months of infertility treatments, I did everything I could, when I could, to maintain an active lifestyle and eat healthy meals (most of the time). As time went on and the stress, grief, hormone treatments, and pregnancies happened, my active lifestyle and healthy living were pushed by the wayside and replaced with bedrest, sleep deprivation, ice cream and snack foods. I no longer deal with bedrest or sleep deprivation, but I somehow haven't gotten out of the ice cream and snack food mode.
For years now, I've been saying that "after such and such happens, I'll lose the rest of the weight and get back into shape" Such and Such could be anything: my foot feels better, my kids get older, my dog is calms down...but each time the "such and such" of the day happens, a new "such and such" replaces it.
I know what to do to change things: I certainly don't need to eat Laura's left over mozzarella sticks (Yes, this happened today-she ate 1 and I ate 7) and I don't need to have a sweet at night or the extra serving of rice with dinner. With a little self discipline, things would change drastically. I've tried it before and I drop weight and do really well until I hit about one-hundred-and-good-enough lbs on the scale.And then, for some unknown reason, I stop trying and start gaining again. It's rather frustrating.
And I can't believe that I, April, just dedicated an entire blog entry to this topic. And yet I did. Because the reality is, while I'm only slightly unhappy with my current weight and fitness level, I'm really unhappy with my inability to change it.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Mood Swing
I was cranky today. There really wasn't any reason for it other than I was irresponsible last night and didn't go to bed early enough so I was short on sleep. I was a bit snappy with the kids, especially when I was trying to have a brief but light conversation with a girlfriend via telephone, while I had 2 large entities called Joey and Laura attached to my person.
After I hung up, I sat Joey down and told him, basically, that it's not nice or appropriate to become an overly large chunk of Velcro while I'm on the phone (of course, these weren't my exact words). He surprised me by responding, "were you talking to a friend, Mom?"
His question was surprising because Joey's a friendly child but tends to be somewhat aloof (ironically, this makes most other kids really want to be his friend). He loves being with kids he knows well, but he's usually just as content playing with me, Laura or by himself. He almost never talks about or mentions friends unless prompted, and even then, he rattles off only one or two names-usually of kids we have just seen.
So, out of curiosity I decided to drop the Velcro conversation (I think I had made my point, anyway) and see where this new conversation led us.
I told him that yes, I was talking to his Aunt Erin, who he knows is a special friend. To which he said, "You know Mom, I have a best friend" and before I could say anything, he spread his arms wide, hugged me and said "Mom, YOU are my best friend"
As you can imagine, my mood changed drastically and my heart melted.
After I hung up, I sat Joey down and told him, basically, that it's not nice or appropriate to become an overly large chunk of Velcro while I'm on the phone (of course, these weren't my exact words). He surprised me by responding, "were you talking to a friend, Mom?"
His question was surprising because Joey's a friendly child but tends to be somewhat aloof (ironically, this makes most other kids really want to be his friend). He loves being with kids he knows well, but he's usually just as content playing with me, Laura or by himself. He almost never talks about or mentions friends unless prompted, and even then, he rattles off only one or two names-usually of kids we have just seen.
So, out of curiosity I decided to drop the Velcro conversation (I think I had made my point, anyway) and see where this new conversation led us.
I told him that yes, I was talking to his Aunt Erin, who he knows is a special friend. To which he said, "You know Mom, I have a best friend" and before I could say anything, he spread his arms wide, hugged me and said "Mom, YOU are my best friend"
As you can imagine, my mood changed drastically and my heart melted.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
3 Little Birds
I know Hannah, Ryan and Abby are shining down on us. I can feel them sometimes, all around me. While I was pregnant with them, I often sang this song to them. It's a cute, peppy song by Bab Marley and at the time, I honestly believed it. I was wrong.
It's taken me many years to be able to say that while it's never going to be "all right" for me, now, every little thing is "alright" and, most times, even better...
"Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', ("This is my message to you:")
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', "This is my message to you:"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right. Don't worry!"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing" - I won't worry!
"'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
It's taken me many years to be able to say that while it's never going to be "all right" for me, now, every little thing is "alright" and, most times, even better...
"Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', ("This is my message to you:")
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Singin': "Don't worry 'bout a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin', "This is my message to you:"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right. Don't worry!"
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing" - I won't worry!
"'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Map. I'm All Over It.
The last few weeks have been interesting for me (for lack of a better word). So many feelings have surfaced for so many different reasons and I am having difficulty processing everything.
Several weeks ago, a woman I used to work with lost her son. He was a young adult and died suddenly from an aenurism. Although she and I didn't know each other well, she did know about Hannah, Ryan and Abby and she has since reached out to me-looking for hope, for support, for anything that will ease her pain. We have emailed back and forth a few times.
Shortly thereafter, a woman I do not know at all called me. Her BBG triplets were born in April at 23+ weeks and all three of them died shortly after their births. She is devastated and after months of struggling on her own, she finally pulled out the support list of phone numbers given to her by our local hospital and called me. We have been emailing on and off for a few weeks now.
Then, just last week, a childhood friend contacted me because her cousin (a girl I saw periodically growing up but didn't know well) lost a child at 24 weeks. She wanted to know if I would reach out to her because she is struggling so. And I did. And I'm glad I did because I know she felt isolated, lost, hurt, sad and confused and knowing that her feelings are normal has helped her tremendously.
Emailing with these women has been difficult for me in an odd way. I would have expected that all this sorrow would throw me back into the depths of my own grief, but it hasn't.When responding to some of the emails, I have had to go back into my own (written) journals to re-read how I felt so that I can respond with appropriate words for their individual stages of grief. While reading my own words, I have been curiously detached from the woman who wrote them. That woman is a stranger to me in so many ways and reading her words has made me much more aware of how far I have come in the past (almost) 6 years.
However, just today my sister-in-law gave birth to her third child, a healthy baby boy. I took my children over to the hospital to meet him and I was completely unprepared for the emotions that invaded my mind and heart. I had expected to walk into the room and feel nothing but overwhelming love for this beautiful child and joy for my brother and sister-in-law. I did not expect to also feel jealous, sad or lonely. I did not expect for my heart to ache so deeply for my babies who died or for any future babies that I will never have. I did not expect to feel such a strong maternal pull to wrap my arms around my two children, hold them close and cherish whatever baby-ness is left in their 4 and 2 year old minds and bodies.
But I did.
Why is it that near strangers can share their grief, pain and loss with me and I can empathize, understand and support them without having their grief become my grief but I can't simply cherish the birth of my brother and sister-in-laws' son without it bringing some pain?
I will be so happy when those people closest to me have moved beyond the pregnancy and baby stage. It makes me so sad that I couldn't walk into that hospital room and feel nothing but complete joy. Is this a long term effect of grief? Is it a flaw in my own personality? I really don't know...
Several weeks ago, a woman I used to work with lost her son. He was a young adult and died suddenly from an aenurism. Although she and I didn't know each other well, she did know about Hannah, Ryan and Abby and she has since reached out to me-looking for hope, for support, for anything that will ease her pain. We have emailed back and forth a few times.
Shortly thereafter, a woman I do not know at all called me. Her BBG triplets were born in April at 23+ weeks and all three of them died shortly after their births. She is devastated and after months of struggling on her own, she finally pulled out the support list of phone numbers given to her by our local hospital and called me. We have been emailing on and off for a few weeks now.
Then, just last week, a childhood friend contacted me because her cousin (a girl I saw periodically growing up but didn't know well) lost a child at 24 weeks. She wanted to know if I would reach out to her because she is struggling so. And I did. And I'm glad I did because I know she felt isolated, lost, hurt, sad and confused and knowing that her feelings are normal has helped her tremendously.
Emailing with these women has been difficult for me in an odd way. I would have expected that all this sorrow would throw me back into the depths of my own grief, but it hasn't.When responding to some of the emails, I have had to go back into my own (written) journals to re-read how I felt so that I can respond with appropriate words for their individual stages of grief. While reading my own words, I have been curiously detached from the woman who wrote them. That woman is a stranger to me in so many ways and reading her words has made me much more aware of how far I have come in the past (almost) 6 years.
However, just today my sister-in-law gave birth to her third child, a healthy baby boy. I took my children over to the hospital to meet him and I was completely unprepared for the emotions that invaded my mind and heart. I had expected to walk into the room and feel nothing but overwhelming love for this beautiful child and joy for my brother and sister-in-law. I did not expect to also feel jealous, sad or lonely. I did not expect for my heart to ache so deeply for my babies who died or for any future babies that I will never have. I did not expect to feel such a strong maternal pull to wrap my arms around my two children, hold them close and cherish whatever baby-ness is left in their 4 and 2 year old minds and bodies.
But I did.
Why is it that near strangers can share their grief, pain and loss with me and I can empathize, understand and support them without having their grief become my grief but I can't simply cherish the birth of my brother and sister-in-laws' son without it bringing some pain?
I will be so happy when those people closest to me have moved beyond the pregnancy and baby stage. It makes me so sad that I couldn't walk into that hospital room and feel nothing but complete joy. Is this a long term effect of grief? Is it a flaw in my own personality? I really don't know...
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