Let Me Eat Cake!

Before having Reagan, I never kept track of my weight. I ate to enjoy the food in front of me. Isn't that what a meal is for? It was not a concern on my radar, and I actually hated when the topic was brought up at work. So many women I knew and respected seemed to belittle their self worth all because of a number on the scale. I swore I would never talk like that. 

During my pregnancy, I gained a total of 70 lbs. Now I am fully aware that that is twice as much as all the books say is allowable for someone my height and with my starting weight. That said, I was not concerned and neither was my doctor. Let's also note for a moment, I was a pregnant woman in the south, due in one of the hottest, most humid months of the year. Avoiding carrying around excess fluid just isn't going to happen. I carried my extra weight with pride until about month 7. When I saw the pictures of me at my baby shower...there were just no words. After that I didn't want pictures taken of me except for the last two monthly bump pictures and the necessary hospital pictures (in all that beautiful hospital garb). I nit-picked everything about myself for the rest of my pregnancy. 

Post-pregnancy was no better. Throw in the fact that I had joined a mommy board online where just about every woman on there was either (a) complaining about their weight & asking when it would disappear, or (b) celebrating their swift return to their pre-pregnancy scale numbers. It was not a good atmosphere. I had had every intention of dropping the concerns about my weight as soon as I held our sweet boy, but that didn't happen. No matter how hard I tried not to think about it, I inevitably would scoop up my phone and spend a few minutes researching normal postpartum weight limits. Of course the weight did eventually start to dissipate some, and of course I was celebrating as it all "magically" seemed to take the hint that I didn't want it there anymore. Then it stopped. It stopped far from the number I wanted it at. Let's also stop and remember for a minute that I am someone's wife. Justin is really great. Like really, really great, y'all. He never cringed, never fussed, never became bossy about any of my weight or what I was eating. He never even mentioned it unless I did. Of course stupid me mentioned it all of the time. I complained and thought aloud and sought desperately for him to say some formula of perfect words that would make all my doubts about my weight vanish. I put all of the pressure on him. The problem with that (at least one problem) is that there are no perfect words. It was all a me thing. So many times he would tell me again and again that he loved me, he loved some new curve that I was complaining about, that I was worrying over nothing. that everything was all good. For just a minute, maybe even a full day if I really let it, his assurances would work and I would completely stop worrying about the numbers on the scale and the girl in the mirror. I would look with clear eyes on the body I actually had and be grateful in every possible way for what was. Doubt can be the murderer of all joy though. It would even stoop so low as to make me question my husband's love. Oh, I knew he loved me, but I worried because love is so amazing at being love that maybe Justin only did and said what he did to make me happy. What if deep down he struggled with other thoughts- not so nice, but honest thoughts. Was my joy and comfort in my new body complacency and selfishness where a husband might be concerned? Yeah, doubt is the ultimate funsucker. (That's a word. Just watch Freaky Friday.) I finally decided to give dieting a try. In September Justin and I decided to try Whole 30. For anyone who has not heard of it, or is just thinking about it, it is interesting. You don't measure your food. You don't count calories. You don't weigh yourself (unless you are like me & need proof you efforts are working). You can supposedly do it while nursing or pregnant, though I was too concerned about risking lack of breastmilk with such sudden changes that I waited until Reagan was weaned. You can actually eat a lot of food- good food. It is a no sugar, no beans, no corn, no bread, no milk, no lots of little names of things (that I cannot recall, but are in the book) diet. You are told not to remake a recipe of something that you shouldn't have, meaning no flourless muffin recipes even though it has all diet-approved ingredients. There are also no cheat days. The diet as a whole is supposed to help you hit a reset button with your body. It is supposed to help you become more aware of any possible sensitivities you may have & not know of, which should help you feel less tired & more energetic, and feel better overall, and possibly get rid of some health issues you may be dealing with or may be heading towards unknowingly. It is also supposed to help reset your brain by helping you form better eating habits, and avoiding snacking or eating foods that make you feel bad (or at least eating less of them). I mean, it sounds pretty legit, right? Justin was on board. I not only wanted to lose some baby weight (though it specifically & repeatedly says that weight loss should not be a focus), but my immune system was crap at this point and I was always exhausted. 

I am not going to go into every detail because I do have another point with all of this. I will say though that our Whole 30 ended up being more of a Whole 23. When Justin ended up in the hospital, we threw the diet out the window. *Note- This diet had absolutely NOTHING to do with his afib episode. In fact, the night that it happened we had eaten an extremely heart healthy meal.* When we stopped the Whole 30, I fell back into my uncertainty. I did lose a few pounds, but that had been with diet-approved meals. I tried to keep up some habits without stressing too much. I kept drinking black coffee, and I still avoided a lot of my favorite treats. When I did snack, I always felt bad afterwards. I would beat myself up for having indulged, and then beat myself up for complaining about the pounds that came back. I pinned so many exercise plans on Pinterest that you would have thought I was preparing for a fitness competition. Truthfully, I would start one exercise regiment, be unable to complete most of the exercises, and then feel so physically sick that I could barely pull myself back together. You won't be surprised to know that I wouldn't try that exercise plan again.

In January, I finally called it. Living life this way just could not be right. I hopped off my tumultuous hamster wheel and began to replay the last few months. For all the things that I had not liked about the Whole 30, it had helped me realize a few things. First, I love to cook. Like for real, I LOVE to cook. Because I love to cook though, I hate to cook something that isn't enjoyable. If not to satisfy the bellies of those I love and their tastebuds, why on earth should I spend precious time in the kitchen? It just doesn't make sense. Also, prepping meals ahead of time is amazing, but it also shouldn't take all day. Prepping should help cut back on time, not eat up more time that I already don't have. I also realized when I want something, I need to have it. I was eating empty weight that I didn't even enjoy trying to kill a craving that I didn't have time or didn't want to make time to cook myself. (Ex. 1/3 bag of Jelly Belly Skittles, 5 peanut M&Ms, and 3 handfuls of goldfish do not equal one slice of chocolate cake, nor is a free Johnny's pizza an amazingly delicious Pizza Hut pizza.) As for the exercise, I haven't exercised regularly for anything since my senior year in high school when I was on the volley ball team. That statement in itself is filled with so much irony you just could not wrap your head around it. Taking all of this into account, I sat down with Justin one night and told him what was up. To say he was a little surprised would be an understatement. Apparently, in all of my stressing and feeding into my doubts, I had thought my husband understood my weight and new body image weighed heavily on me. Nope, he had no idea. He thought I had taken him at his word and that I truly hadn't thought too much of it. *Que laughing until I cried.* So, all of that to say, here is what I have changed in the Mommy Body department- 1. "Whatever you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."- 1 Corinthians 10:31 This verse alone tells us we are to consider everything big AND small to be work and acts that glorify our Father who places us in the positions in life that we are in. I am a wife and a mother who, above all other work I could submit myself to, I WANT to serve my loved ones to the absolute best of my ability. For me, this means I cook for pleasure. The time I spend in the kitchen needs to serve a greater purpose than bettering my body's image to the standards others around me have set. Each and every meal that comes from my kitchen, from the work of my hands, should both satisfy and strengthen the precious bodies my family and I have been given, as well as satisfy the taste buds specifically created for us.  2. Exercising doesn't work if I cannot do it. Around the middle of January, I created my own workout plan. I took 3 exercises that I could actually perform and that motivated me and did them no more than 25 times each. I was tired after the first time, but not physically sick. It took me less than 30 minutes (Reagan's mealtime), and I could go about my day afterwards. I had no real clue if my exercising was actually doing anything, but it was fun so I didn't consider it wasted time. Feeling pretty proud of myself, I added 2 new exercises about 2 weeks later. After a month, I doubled the amount of time that I did each exercise. Again, it tired me out, but I wasn't sick. I could chase Reagan down 5 seconds after I was finished unlike before. The fact I can actually do some exercises is pretty exciting. It makes my clutzy-self feel good. Plus, it doesn't take but a few minutes, so I am not having to rearrange my schedule for any of this. With all of the recent diy projects Justin and I have been doing around the house, I don't even stress if I miss a day. I am keeping my body busy and being productive!   3. Something I did learn about myself while doing the Whole 30 is that I can actually say no. Also, I learned that I don't like eating food that I don't like or that I don't want. (Hence why the Whole 30 cookbook no longer sits on my kitchen counter. At $17 though, it does sit on a shelf in our house still.) I don't eat every snickers that is offered to me now, and I don't feel the urge to devour a bag of Reeses Easter eggs just because they are in the house. They aren't going to vanish off the face of the earth if I say no this one time. When I actually want them and eat them, I eat less of them and I fully appreciate their amazingness. If I gain 5 pounds from them, it was so worth it because I won't want them for awhile, so I won't hang on to what I gained for a few days. No stressing myself out. No beating myself up. It's a treat. It's amazing. It should be enjoyed fully. 4. I drink more water. If my mother reads this post she may just fall out from shock. Thanks to one of my grandmothers, I have been drinking coke since before I turned 1. (No, my parents did not condone this.) Cokes were treats in my parents home. You got one if you were eating out and not wearing a super nice, super new outfit. As a teenager with a job and then as an adult in her own home, I began drinking cokes like they were going out with Twinkies. I was grown. I considered it my right to keep a pack of cokes in my home. Then there was Whole 30, and no cokes were allowed, and I was sad. Then there was no Whole 30, and I could drink all I wanted, but I didn't want them all the time anymore. When I want one, I want one. It may be Reagan's bedtime, but if we don't have one in the house somebody is driving me to Sonic for that coke. Funnily enough, Justin now craves them so there is always a pack in the house now. I haven't had one in months. I drink water. I crave food more than I do my flavored drinks. It is really weird, I admit. I mean, maybe you would have to know me. Now, I do not drink black coffee anymore. That just is so wrong. Plus, it was messing with my head terribly. I add cream, but I hardly ever want sugar. It just goes back to the fact that if I am going to make something or consume something it better be the way I want it.  The changes I have made may look common sense to some, but they are changes I have never thought to make before. I enjoy being in our kitchen. I enjoy what I eat no matter whether it is considered healthy or not. I exercise so that I know I can, not in order to make myself look a way that I may never look again. Yes, I have come down a bit on the scale since making these changes, but it has been nothing drastic. Many would still say that I am overweight, and some might say that I am being complacent and should be more concerned. The truth is though. I am concerned. I am concerned with what matters in my life as a whole. Cooking for my family serves my family. It is a good work to do and it respects my Father who has given me the opportunity to do this work. The little exercises I do are for me and me alone. They are nothing to brag on, but they sure do make me feel good just because I know I can do them.  I have scars. I have stretch marks. I am struggling to find what my new size is now. Even in all of this though, I can honestly, without a shadow of a doubt say that I love my body. No, not because I am vain or selfish, but because I am grateful. It is scarred and forever changed not because of some selfish act to better it by the world's standards, but because it has done a great work. A most impressive, and most beautiful little boy grew here and came from it. God used my body for His work. Our son has a purpose on earth and that I could have been used to help bring him here is just absolutely a most humbling thought. So what I can't wear a lot of the same clothes. I can still move. I can still walk and chase and run and play and do works with this body that honestly sat idle for so long. So what that I do not look the same as I once did. I am not the same woman I once was, and I would not trade a single day of my life now to go back to where and who I was before. I have to use my time and my energy for what I believe is important, just as we all do. I cannot focus on the bigger picture and God's purpose for my life while staring at the scale and measuring out meals and sticking to a "fool-proof" exercise regiment. That just isn't me, and isn't that the truth that we just cannot be happy trying to be anyone else than who God wants us to be. Yes, I have a bigger butt and bigger thighs and even a bigger chest than I did before. Oh, and of course lets not forget that little bump that is leftover. So I wear bigger jeans, and I went up a bra size (not crying over that one), and I have always worn high-waisted bottoms anyway. As for the bigger curves, I will just acknowledge that I fill out my outfits better now. 

Being a mommy, having a baby, it isn't about getting a great body- or a "healthy body" is how some sell it. The second you get pregnant, you are not you anymore. You are literally and figuratively changing. Your heart is no longer the same. Your life will never be the same. How on earth can your body be unscathed, and how can it be worse off because it doesn't magically look as it did (or better than it did) before. It has done a great and amazing thing. Beating myself up about how my body didn't look, depleted so much of my energy- more than our newborn ever could have. I lost appreciation for God's work. I lost appreciation for God's favor in my life. He chose to allow me to be a mother in every way. I let distraction take away what was and is mine to enjoy. I questioned my husband's affection and honesty because of the doubt and the standards the world put in front of me. I lost my focus, and was not fulfilling my purpose.

I'll end this with this final thought. My mom managed to find a few surviving family photos on Ancestry of her grandmother (her namesake). I have no clue how much my great-grandmother weighed. What little anyone could ever remember to tell us about her didn't include mention of her hard workout regiment or teeny waistline. Instead, it was of how hard she served her family. She was known to be fiscally responsible, incredibly smart, faithful to her husband, and a very loving mother. She died when she was fairly young. Because of the memories she left, when I look at those pictures I see a woman with a beautiful smile and genuinely kind eyes. I am sure she was not perfect. She was real after all. Still, for the little stories we do know to be as good and as favorable as they are is telling of what she cared about most. We only have so much time to do the work we are here for- to serve where we are and with the fullest and happiest of hearts. To anyone out there reading this, do not worry over the thoughts of the world. Focus on what matters- what your purpose is. Put your heart there and do the great works God has planned for you. 

(Oh, and if chocolate cake makes you happy then by golly go bake you the most delicious chocolate cake recipe you can find and enjoy!) :)