127 pounds. That's my goal for Wednesday's weigh in. According to my research (and supported by my doctor), it's reasonable to add up to 5 pounds in the first trimester and then one additional pound per week in the second trimester.
I started this journey at 118, so at week 20, 127 is right on. It will mean that I gained 3 pounds in the first trimester and am progressing on schedule for 6 weeks. If you didn't know, the first trimester is slightly "longer" because it's calculated from the date of a missed period.
In my real world, I don't weigh myself. I have a long history of disordered eating and have learned that the number on the scale is always too high or too low. Plus, with all the variables that effect the scale (its accuracy, my muscle mass and hydration/hormone status) it's not worth my time. If the number is too high, the lie is that I am on track to become Shrek. If it's too low, the lie is that I am not taking care of myself.
But, I am nervous. I hope that I am fueling myself for a healthy baby. I think I am. I've added about 300 calories every day and reduced my exercise intensity.
Gaining weight doesn't bother me. I am happy to put on the recommended 25 pounds (okay, the actual recco is 25 to 35, I am "happy" with the low end) in exchange for the experience of growing a baby and I am getting used to the idea of being a mother.
What does bother me is a fear of hunger and the resulting feeling that my eating is out of control.
When I was 15, I learned how to make myself vomit. My friend taught me after we ate a bunch of junk food. It was gross, but I liked the attention of losing weight and the high that resulted from thinking I was in control of my body and what it looked like.
After a few weeks, I shifted my diet to Jolly Ranchers, Vivarin, Diet Coke and steamed vegetables. I lost weight quickly and earned a bed in an eating disorder unit. To be honest, it was a drastic measure. But, my mom did not know what to do with me. I was a spirited teen on a destructive path. The hospital was useless. I was discharged after a month and started a progressive love affair with exercise.
“Some” was never enough. What started as a daily Step class evolved in to a 10-mile roundtrip bike ride to the gym for 60-minutes on the Stairmaster, Step class and then weights. Obviously, this was not sustainable—especially when I left for college. My pattern shifted to a new cluster F that included alcohol, drugs and sex (in addition to food and purging) to try to control the world and the people around me.
An addict in their disease is delusional. It took 13 more years to find a solution that worked for me. In the simplest of terms, I have a daily reprieve based on a fit, spiritual condition. I am commited to fueling my body appropriately and to moving every day.
My healthy size has an athletic ratio of muscle mass--which makes my weight higher than others my size. I don't care. I can move through life strong and I like that.
I don't weigh myself. I don’t restrict what I eat. I avoid junk because it makes me feel crappy. I avoid overeating since it triggers the desire to eat more (which makes complete sense if you’ve ever had an addiction) that then triggers the need to "get rid of it" by vomiting.
None of this is driven by vanity. My body is not perfect and won't be. In fact, I don't even have a standard for physical perfection. It's driven by a desire for control and to compensate for uncontrolled behavior. It's driven by a desire to reward and to punish. It's driven by the idea that I don't have to commit to anything -- even food.
And now, it's all different. It's not "my body," it's Baby T's house. She's going to need more space and it's my job to grow that for her. There is no choice, my body will do it. She's also going to get hungry and it's my job to use my experience proactively so that my monkey mind doesn't freak out and want to ignore her hunger.
Yes. This is outside my comfort zone of eating and I'm not worried that I'll blow it. I am surprised how quickly the selfishness of old behaviors has shifted to keep Baby T healthy.