Before I got knocked up and popped a baby out, I was told that “baby weight” was not a big deal. All you had to do was breastfeed and walk around the block a few times and any extra pounds packed on by eating multiple cupcakes a day for 9 months would melt away. 21 months post baby, I can tell you that this notion is crap.
Last year I begrudgingly went out and bought new work clothing that would fit my “mom” body. Matt had weaned me off my maternity pants as soon as he thought it was safe to bring up the topic and keep his head. The only thing I had in mind for these purchases was comfort and the attempt to hide any extra curves. Little did I know that this type of frumpy garb can start you on a spiral down, down, down to the land of not caring what you look like.
That land sucks.
Fast forward to two months ago. I dragged out the same box of pre-baby clothing that I dragged out last fall and lo and behold, nothing fit. Regular jeans had become skinny jeans, sweaters were snugger and snow pants were NO pants. How could this be?
With almost a dozen surgeries between us, Matt and I are the present day Mr. and Mrs. Frankenstein. I creak like an old chair when I wake up in the morning and Matt can only give down-low hi-5s from lack of shoulder mobility. I can’t help but think if we are this broken down in our early 30s, what are we going to look like in our 60s!?
That brings me to the crumbling point – a kitchen chair crumbled under Matt when he sat in it. We laughed, made jokes, then joined a gym. Dragging our butts to the gym the last 2 months has been both challenging and rewarding. Inevitably some body part is killing one of us everyday. Today Matt could barely lift a spoon to his mouth at breakfast, and last week my legs were so wrecked I had to crawl on my hands and knees up the stairs. These aches and pains are a good thing for a change, they show progress toward healthier (hotter) parents.
We are not measuring our success Biggest Loser style on the scale, but in days, weeks and years we know we are adding on to our lives with Josephine (unless she gives us a heart attack). Now THAT’S worth sweating for!