On a mission...

While pregnant with Ethan, I came across an article in a baby magazine about losing baby weight. I remember not being too concerned -- I was pretty happy eating any and everything and hadn't given much thought to losing any weight --, but I read it any way.

It struck me as odd that it usually takes a year or more to lose all pregnancy weight.

What?!? I thought it just all came out with the baby!

Now, before you snort at my silliness, let me go back over how all of this happened.

I was almost three months pregnant before I even realized what was going on. Now, I'm an educated woman, but I did apparently fall asleep during sex ed. My best friend mentioned, when she called in December to announce the news that she was expecting, that her doctor told her that it could take as long as six months to a year for birth control to get out of a person's system.

It seems that I didn't really understand that "could" doesn't mean "will definitely."

Over the next few months, K. and I started talking about when we'd like to start a family, and we decided that we'd start thinking about it within the next year. With this in mind, I decided that I'd go off of birth control at the end of the month.

That was in May.

Fastforward a couple of months to the beginning of September.

It's the Sunday morning after the Clemson-Georgia game. I roll over, not feeling so great. K. has to go to work after staying up late for the game, so he's not very sympathetic as I lay in bed, moaning and groaning.

Me: "My stomach feels gross. Geez, my boobs hurt. I must've slept funny."

He just looks at me. "Maybe you should take a pregnancy test."

I feel better immediately. "Are you kidding? I'm definitely not pregnant. I don't even have any symptoms!"

K: "You just said your boobs hurt."

Me: "Well, they do, but not like pregnant hurt. Geez."

K. leaves for work... and my mind starts going through all of this over and over.

I roll out of bed, throw on a ball cap, and head to the local drugstore... bought one test...went home.

Imagine my surprise when the two lines start forming in the little window. (2 lines = positive)

I thought for sure I'd done something wrong, so I go back to the drugstore...buy another test...go back home.

By this point, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die... or at the very least, vomit. In my head, I know the first test is wrong, but I've got to make sure. Get home, take the test... just about pass out when, again, the results scream, "YOU'RE PREGNANT!"

I'm home by myself, and I don't know what to do.

So I go buy a third test.

As I sit on the bathroom floor with positive tests, directions, and empty boxes scattered around me, I think, "How did this happen?"

That's a rhetorical question. I know how it happened, but I am the least maternal person ever. What am I going to do with a baby?

To make an already long story short...

Turns out that the "six months to a year" estimate the doctor gave my friend concerning birth control's exit from one's system was quite generous. For me, it only took five weeks. After finding a doctor and going through my first exam, I started calming down and accepting the idea of having a baby.

In fact, I accepted it so much that I gained 60 pounds while pregnant with my son. By the time I read that article, I'd already gained 40, so I figured, "What the heck?"

To quote my delivering doctor when I returned to him for my six week postpartum check-up..."Next time, you might want to consider only eating one biscuit with gravy for breakfast instead of three."

So noted.

For the next two years, I battled to get that weight off. I ran. I lifted weights. I dieted. Nothing worked... until the fall of 2005. I started a variation of South Beach, and the weight just started melting off. I was pumped!

Two weeks after I hit my 1st weight goal, I found out that I was pregnant with Laney.

Yay for baby. Boo for big belly.

On a positive note, I only gained 30, and up until 7 months, I'd only gained about 15. My body seems to produce good sized babies -- 9 lbs. and 8 1/2 lbs. respectively -- so my doctor was actually concerned that I hadn't gained enough weight up until that last 15 lbs. arrived.

I was so proud of myself, and I felt so cute during my pregnancy... when I wasn't face first in the toilet... not so cute then... Once Laney was born, I dropped 20 of my 30 within two months, and I was ready to break out my cute clothes.

One thing that article didn't mention was that after babies, your body is not even close to the same shape.

Right before the end of summer, I started going through my closet, pulling out my business clothes, but even though I weighed less than I had after Ethan, I still couldn't get in most of my clothes.

I'm a little vain, so you can imagine what that did to my ego.

The problem is that while I love to wear cute clothes, I also love to eat... hence my nickname in Knox-Vegas -- Big Girl. Let's suffice it to say that I earned that moniker while pregnant with Ethan.

I told you I ate a lot.

My pals there weren't being mean; I ate enough to feed a small country for a year... on a daily basis.

In college, I'd go eat with the boys and out-eat all of them... Maybe not always an impressive feat, but when you're out-eating offensive and defensive linemen weighing 275 at the least (some were as big as 350), it was something to be proud of... or it was for me at 5'5", 130 lbs.

The whole idea of watching what I eat is ridiculous to me. I always watch what I eat... every single bite that goes into my mouth gets a good stare down as it approaches my lips.

So, I've enlisted the help of the bariatric clinic here in town, and I'm on my way to my pre-Ethan weight, which was my lowest adult weight. Since they prescribe appetite suppressants, I'm cool. I'm not hungry, and that keeps me from overeating to avoid eating bad stuff... and then ending up eating the bad stuff anyway. :)

We'll see; my goal is to be back to my pre-Ethan weight before Laney's 1st birthday in the spring...

I mean, really -- I have to be able to eat birthday cake without feeling guilty... :)