Thursday, October 6, 2011
8 weeks old. Her crying makes me soft.
Emma is 8 weeks old and I weigh 182 lb (down 2 lb since we started the diet last week).
Yesterday I was hungry and cranky, and I bet Emma is picking up on that a bit, because she just had a lot of cramps and was cranky herself. We had a nice bath in the big tub, and she splashed around with her little legs, but as soon as I took her out of the water she started crying, and worked herself up into a hysterical mode. I soothed her as best as I could, but she did not want the boob (that is a first for Emma!) and at one point I had to get dried up and dressed myself, as I had just gotten out of the tub with her. After dressing her warmly I put her on the floor of my walk in closet, where I was getting dressed, and she started crying very angry, and thrashing around with her little legs and arms, and I felt so bad that I just had to get dried up and dressed, and could not pick her up. She was just lying there, helpless, and my heart really melted out of compassion for this little body that cannot do a single thing for herself and is so incredibly dependent. I cannot imagine the frustration! Good thing she doesn't know any better...
There was another magical moment last night, when she grabbed her daddy's finger, looked at it, then tentatively stuck out her little tongue and slowly brought her head to the finger (instead of the other way around :) and first tasted it, then started chewing on his knuckle. It was so sweet to see her explore. I am used to her playing with my boob, chewing on it, grabbing it with her hands, checking it out with her tongue, whenever she is not hungry and feels like having fun. But I have never seen her doing it with anything other than my boob or her hands, so this was definitely a first.
As for my own progress, which I will probably post every Thursday, I am doing well...except for the irritability :( which hopefully will get better. I feel tense, probably because all I can think about is how to get my hands on more food, so I can't concentrate on anything else. I have good results though. Down 2 lb, and stronger in the core exercises (I can now do the plank for one minute, while just one week ago I had to struggle for 30 seconds). I can even do it on one leg at a time, for 10 seconds each. I just got my gymboss interval timer, and my workouts have gotten harder, since the timer beeps each time when I have to increase the intensity, and measures out my breaks. I use it for everything, including the elliptical workouts, which I do 50 sec hard, 10 sec break, repeat times 20. Yesterday the sweat was pouring off me like rain.
I like interval training, it is way less boring than regular 20 min of elliptical at the same pace. The other way to spice up training is to get some new and exciting exercise clothes. I just splurged and treated myself to some lululemon pants and jacket (the thin one that matches the pants in both colour and material, like a track suit), two bras (identical black v-neck) and one white hoodie. My bank account is groaning in pain. But I need some comfy exercise clothes, and I stick to that excuse.
Yesterday I was hungry and cranky, and I bet Emma is picking up on that a bit, because she just had a lot of cramps and was cranky herself. We had a nice bath in the big tub, and she splashed around with her little legs, but as soon as I took her out of the water she started crying, and worked herself up into a hysterical mode. I soothed her as best as I could, but she did not want the boob (that is a first for Emma!) and at one point I had to get dried up and dressed myself, as I had just gotten out of the tub with her. After dressing her warmly I put her on the floor of my walk in closet, where I was getting dressed, and she started crying very angry, and thrashing around with her little legs and arms, and I felt so bad that I just had to get dried up and dressed, and could not pick her up. She was just lying there, helpless, and my heart really melted out of compassion for this little body that cannot do a single thing for herself and is so incredibly dependent. I cannot imagine the frustration! Good thing she doesn't know any better...
There was another magical moment last night, when she grabbed her daddy's finger, looked at it, then tentatively stuck out her little tongue and slowly brought her head to the finger (instead of the other way around :) and first tasted it, then started chewing on his knuckle. It was so sweet to see her explore. I am used to her playing with my boob, chewing on it, grabbing it with her hands, checking it out with her tongue, whenever she is not hungry and feels like having fun. But I have never seen her doing it with anything other than my boob or her hands, so this was definitely a first.
As for my own progress, which I will probably post every Thursday, I am doing well...except for the irritability :( which hopefully will get better. I feel tense, probably because all I can think about is how to get my hands on more food, so I can't concentrate on anything else. I have good results though. Down 2 lb, and stronger in the core exercises (I can now do the plank for one minute, while just one week ago I had to struggle for 30 seconds). I can even do it on one leg at a time, for 10 seconds each. I just got my gymboss interval timer, and my workouts have gotten harder, since the timer beeps each time when I have to increase the intensity, and measures out my breaks. I use it for everything, including the elliptical workouts, which I do 50 sec hard, 10 sec break, repeat times 20. Yesterday the sweat was pouring off me like rain.
I like interval training, it is way less boring than regular 20 min of elliptical at the same pace. The other way to spice up training is to get some new and exciting exercise clothes. I just splurged and treated myself to some lululemon pants and jacket (the thin one that matches the pants in both colour and material, like a track suit), two bras (identical black v-neck) and one white hoodie. My bank account is groaning in pain. But I need some comfy exercise clothes, and I stick to that excuse.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
flattering comments...NOT!
On the plus side, I weigh 182 lb, which is very good. Two pounds down in one week. MrH thinks I am an irritable bitch when I lose weight, but he is willing to put up with it so on we go. I went running today for my current 4 km distance at the indoor running track. It is a beautiful building, with two hockey rings on the first level, a speed skating ring on the second level, and a walking/running track overlooking all the other levels. The lady who was supervising was someone I knew from work, and she had not seen me for about two years. She did not recognize me! we had a long chat, and at the end she asked me where I am from. I told her I am from Romania, and it then clicked to her who I was, and she said the first thing that came to her mind: oh my God, you used to be so skinny and pretty! (as in now you are not!!!). I would tell my husband about you and how good you look, how nicely your clothes fit, etc. She went on and on. Like I destroyed some kind of monument. Ahem.
True enough. I am not skinny. But I will be. I told her that I am running and dieting and that I have already lost 5 lb, but hey, she could not shake the disappointment off her face. Hey, lady, I just had a baby, get over it. But it was shocking for me to realize just how different I must look, with the extra 30 lb on board (probably the lycra pants did not do me any favours either). It was also shocking to see how she did not believe, not truly believe, that I could lose this weight. Puh-leeze. Who do you think you are talking to, lady, do you have any idea how much harder having this baby was than losing 30 lb? How much deprivation and frustration I have had to endure? I think I could have lost 150 lb in the time that it took me to have this baby, and it would have been an easier journey. That's the thing, surviving infertility and somehow resolving it puts one in a position of power, whether one has a baby or not at the end of it, there is no way not to look at the usual everyday problems and not shrug, as in "whatever". It is nothing compared to what I already did. It takes time and determination, but at least the result is pretty much guaranteed. While as I cannot say the same thing about the IVF, or the end of a high risk pregnancy.
BTW, does anybody want to join me on this weight loss journey? If so, post your goal in the comments section. Once a week, let's check in. Say on Thursdays, my usual weigh in day.
True enough. I am not skinny. But I will be. I told her that I am running and dieting and that I have already lost 5 lb, but hey, she could not shake the disappointment off her face. Hey, lady, I just had a baby, get over it. But it was shocking for me to realize just how different I must look, with the extra 30 lb on board (probably the lycra pants did not do me any favours either). It was also shocking to see how she did not believe, not truly believe, that I could lose this weight. Puh-leeze. Who do you think you are talking to, lady, do you have any idea how much harder having this baby was than losing 30 lb? How much deprivation and frustration I have had to endure? I think I could have lost 150 lb in the time that it took me to have this baby, and it would have been an easier journey. That's the thing, surviving infertility and somehow resolving it puts one in a position of power, whether one has a baby or not at the end of it, there is no way not to look at the usual everyday problems and not shrug, as in "whatever". It is nothing compared to what I already did. It takes time and determination, but at least the result is pretty much guaranteed. While as I cannot say the same thing about the IVF, or the end of a high risk pregnancy.
BTW, does anybody want to join me on this weight loss journey? If so, post your goal in the comments section. Once a week, let's check in. Say on Thursdays, my usual weigh in day.
Monday, October 3, 2011
men and infertility
I read this article just now, after being directed to it by www.alittlepregnant.com. I felt that it was written with incredible sensitivity from this man undergoing ART and finally IVF with his wife for a total of three years, without a positive result, and without great chances. It shows just how heart-wrenching this process is, and how from the man's perspective, he is able to take other people's jokes and crassness in stride on the surface, and yet...it still affects him. It makes me wonder if men are perhaps not less sensitive than us, but rather less likely to complain. Less likely to share. More likely to just "take it like a man". I don't want to generalize, but his style of thinking and writing reminded me of my own husband, the man I know best in this lifetime, and I felt deep tenderness towards the strong male who seems that he is just "tagging along for the ride" and in reality experiencing everything just as intensely as the woman. Including the experience of having a wife who desperately wants children and cannot have them. (If men want children as intensely, they are better at hiding it from us than we are from them, thus the additional stress is still on them).
I did not think that IVF was a lot harder on me than on him. We both had our share of stress, and overall it was a pretty pleasant experience. Not as pleasant as fucking each other's brains out would have been, of course, more along the lines of a root canal, but the doctors were nice, the clinic was comfortable, and we got to travel to Vancouver where I had a wonderful time. Not much to complain about in my case. Plus I had some pregnancies coming out of it, which is probably what colours my experience in retrospect. What I did find very difficult was the infertility itself, the not knowing if I would ever have a child, the incompetent cervix on top of all that making me wonder if I would have a preemie with disabilities to raise and if I was strong enough for that as well. That is still an issue for us of course, especially now that I have lost the TAC and I will have to get a regular McDonalds next.
I feel blessed every single hour of every single day for having escaped the hell called infertility. I only now know just how closed I was to the world, how much isolation and hurt I struggled with every day. I feel like I am filled with light. And in addition to this immense relief, I have this wonderful baby to love, whose hand right now rests on my breast like a butterfly touch. And let me tell you, going from hell to heaven without transition is a wild ride.
I did not think that IVF was a lot harder on me than on him. We both had our share of stress, and overall it was a pretty pleasant experience. Not as pleasant as fucking each other's brains out would have been, of course, more along the lines of a root canal, but the doctors were nice, the clinic was comfortable, and we got to travel to Vancouver where I had a wonderful time. Not much to complain about in my case. Plus I had some pregnancies coming out of it, which is probably what colours my experience in retrospect. What I did find very difficult was the infertility itself, the not knowing if I would ever have a child, the incompetent cervix on top of all that making me wonder if I would have a preemie with disabilities to raise and if I was strong enough for that as well. That is still an issue for us of course, especially now that I have lost the TAC and I will have to get a regular McDonalds next.
I feel blessed every single hour of every single day for having escaped the hell called infertility. I only now know just how closed I was to the world, how much isolation and hurt I struggled with every day. I feel like I am filled with light. And in addition to this immense relief, I have this wonderful baby to love, whose hand right now rests on my breast like a butterfly touch. And let me tell you, going from hell to heaven without transition is a wild ride.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
My name is MsH and I am overweight. Big time (literally)!
I calculated my BMI this week, and it was not pretty: 28. That officially places me right in the middle of the overweight range, close to obesity (obese would be 30). I have NEVER been this fat in my whole life. I have also never carried a pregnancy to term before either, so there we go. I cannot fit into any of my previous clothes. If I squeeze myself into a pair of exercise pants (we are talking about the stretchy black lycra type) I need to hold my breath and avoid sitting or else the industrial strength seams might crack. The other day I tried on my previous bathing suit for the pool (size 10) and I could not get it to slip past my knees. I called the triboutique company from which I order my swimming gear, and gave them my measurements: 41-37-44. They said that they don't carry anything in stock for this size (slightly larger than XL) but that they will order it in for me from the company that makes them. Sweet, but very embarrassing conversation indeed.
And while I am aware that I have just had a baby which I am currently trying to at least partially breastfeed with my limited milk supply, this cannot go on any longer. It is eroding on my confidence. I am going back to work in January and would like to have some clothes to wear other than my two pairs of size 12 jeans that barely zip up (optimistic recent purchase). I need to lose weight as much as I need air at this point. Hence I have declared the situation a state of emergency, at least until I lose enough to fit into my priorly fat clothes. This means that I am currently very strict with my diet, not having any sugar and limiting the fruit/grains to only one serving per meal at most. I also have small portions. I am hungry most of the time in the evenings. Starting from about 4 pm, I am hungry almost non stop until dinner, and then hungry again half an hour after dinner until I fall asleep. I hate being hungry all the time, but I know from previous experience that the hungry stage only lasts about one week, then the stomach shrinks to a smaller size and does not need to be fed every five minutes.
I also exercise every day, some kind of cardio (either running or elliptical) for 30 min and do the bodyrock.tv workouts. They are tough, but I can feel that they are helping build up my strength back quite quickly. I am already pleased with my abdominal muscles, I think that they will come back to their usual position and strength in the next month. Ditto for the quads. The only problem that I really need to work on lots is the upper body strength. I have never been able to do a proper chin-up and probably never will be able to due to the fact that I have spaghetti arms. But at least I wish I could go back to doing pushups. And that will require about one year of work, I am afraid. And on a more achievable level, I wish I could haul around the car seat with Emma in it without feeling like my forearms will fall off.
That is the current situation, and what I am busying myself with. The strange thing is, I have no self-hatred during this whole thing. Before I would have felt like I am a useless piece of sausage with no will power and would have kicked myself in order to motivate the change. Now I feel like I am doing it out of love for myself and for Emma (I want her to have a fit and beautiful mother that she is proud of, just like I did - my mom was my number one exercise partner until I moved to SmallTown in the North). And I feel like the effort to lose the weight is part of the small price that I have had to pay to have this wonderful baby. She is worth every bit of effort indeed, and I remember that each time I look at her (which is constantly).
I will post a "before" picture in my exercise pants and bra. And then, on the first of every month, I will post the "after" pictures.
And while I am aware that I have just had a baby which I am currently trying to at least partially breastfeed with my limited milk supply, this cannot go on any longer. It is eroding on my confidence. I am going back to work in January and would like to have some clothes to wear other than my two pairs of size 12 jeans that barely zip up (optimistic recent purchase). I need to lose weight as much as I need air at this point. Hence I have declared the situation a state of emergency, at least until I lose enough to fit into my priorly fat clothes. This means that I am currently very strict with my diet, not having any sugar and limiting the fruit/grains to only one serving per meal at most. I also have small portions. I am hungry most of the time in the evenings. Starting from about 4 pm, I am hungry almost non stop until dinner, and then hungry again half an hour after dinner until I fall asleep. I hate being hungry all the time, but I know from previous experience that the hungry stage only lasts about one week, then the stomach shrinks to a smaller size and does not need to be fed every five minutes.
I also exercise every day, some kind of cardio (either running or elliptical) for 30 min and do the bodyrock.tv workouts. They are tough, but I can feel that they are helping build up my strength back quite quickly. I am already pleased with my abdominal muscles, I think that they will come back to their usual position and strength in the next month. Ditto for the quads. The only problem that I really need to work on lots is the upper body strength. I have never been able to do a proper chin-up and probably never will be able to due to the fact that I have spaghetti arms. But at least I wish I could go back to doing pushups. And that will require about one year of work, I am afraid. And on a more achievable level, I wish I could haul around the car seat with Emma in it without feeling like my forearms will fall off.
That is the current situation, and what I am busying myself with. The strange thing is, I have no self-hatred during this whole thing. Before I would have felt like I am a useless piece of sausage with no will power and would have kicked myself in order to motivate the change. Now I feel like I am doing it out of love for myself and for Emma (I want her to have a fit and beautiful mother that she is proud of, just like I did - my mom was my number one exercise partner until I moved to SmallTown in the North). And I feel like the effort to lose the weight is part of the small price that I have had to pay to have this wonderful baby. She is worth every bit of effort indeed, and I remember that each time I look at her (which is constantly).
I will post a "before" picture in my exercise pants and bra. And then, on the first of every month, I will post the "after" pictures.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)