I’m five months postpartum. I’m proud of myself and my baby. I hate my body though. Everyone tells you to be proud of your “tiger stripes” (aka stretch marks) from your pregnancy, because you earned them. Yeah, I earned them at each and ever dive-threw window I went to. The lose skin from my 37 weeks pregnant body is even worse then the stretch marks, the bloating that I’m still experiencing, the swollen joints, and the constant hunger that goes along with breastfeeding. All of it sucks. But, I’d never give it up; I’d never take it all away, because I have a beautiful baby. I would on the other hand choose a lot better lifestyle for myself during those 37 weeks then I had chosen. I don’t know where it began. The first few weeks of pregnancy I was still in fitness mode and for the most part still eating fairly healthy. I think it hit when I was suddenly I couldn’t perform at the same intensity as before, it was like a brick wall. And then being told you’re too sick now to continue much more then walking, and sorry you’re too high risk to lift weights. All of it became too much of an uncertain thing again to me. All of it was out of my control. Or so I thought.
I suppose we can all look back at our mistakes and say I should have done this and I would have do this differently, but we can’t change the current circumstances. So, I guess I can just say I better look forward and know that I did it once and I can do it again. With all the fear and anxiety that I had before still boiling up, I’m still going to move forward with my attempt at defeating my weight.
**If you haven't been keeping up with me on facebook, look me up and all that has happened in the past year.**