“Are we going to have a huge kid?” I asked my husband as we were out walking and I suddenly missed being able to see my imaginary pants button.
I would like to first explain that I am not an insecure person when it comes to my weight. I don’t believe people have to fit in the anorexia brackets that doctors so frequently describe as your “average weight bracket for your height” but I do know that there is a different between a healthy weight and one contingent upon an over-loaded doughnut intake. I believe there is a happy balance between enjoying that ice cream and enjoying the brussel sprouts (yes, world, I like brussel sprouts).
And it would be purely foolish of me to pretend like I have any idea what my personal pregnancy weight tolerance may be or how easily i will or will not be able to lose the excess weight. It would be like me using the phrase, “usually…” in starting a description of my pregnancy symptoms. Beyond the usually that this week has brought, consistency and certainly experience during this pregnancy have fallen to the lacking side of the scale.
Tolerance I speak of, yes, in regards to weight gain not because I have a hidden obsession about my weight, but because my body is a temple and I want to control the flesh as much as I possibly can. This has fueled my past love/hate relationship with running which resulted in a 3rd place triathlon happening. And I am sure that my desire to dominate my lazy “I want ice cream” selfishness will also fuel further running sessions after the arrival of baby and the disappearance of ice.
But, despite some opinions, pregnancy is not the platform of “free for all” binge eating. I don’t feel that it is my excuse to bomb-rush the nearest fast food urge or throw myself at passing ice cream trucks. I am well aware that the weight I carry, good and bad weight, will have it’s affects beyond delivery day.
So in light of my thinking, I have broken through my comfortable realm of pride to ask for Matt’s help in a round-about prideful way of course. But none the less, he has graciously offered to walk with me on a more regular basis and help with packing healthier choices for my daily in-order-to-avoid-feeling-ill moments at work. (Yes, friends, while I haven’t puked at work since 5.5 months into this pregnancy, feeling ill if i don’t eat within a 1/2 hour to hour bracket of my first feeling of hunger is an unfortunate side-affect.) Matt has even gone to the extremities of offering to avoid chips and cookies within our household all to aid his bride and child make better choices.
I could never ask him to do so, but his willingness is to be honored.
Either way, I type all this not to notify you cyber and breathing world of my personal woes regarding weight gain (for I really don’t think they are woes at all), but because sometimes we need to make more intention to live more healthy lives. And I find that “sometimes” in the last sentence is not situational, but intentional. (If of course there is such thing as an intentional intent.) Therefore, in this daze of feeling completely out of control of this body while this little one dictates my level of acid reflux, sleep, energy, and intake demand, I am taking more delight in the idea of a few lifestyle changes that might just help throttle on these last few months of healthier weight gain.
I haven’t done horrible thus far (in fact I’m still in the “normals”- whatever that means), but I certainly can always do better… and should be striving for such endeavors.
So, (raises plate) here’s to a night of green beans… and just one slice of what Matt’s having – hot wanna-be-healthy pizza – after an evening walk (choking session) with our poochie.