I'd like to say that most of me newfound weight is from the drugs. And it very well may be. But my total lack of exercise and seduction of all things salty and sweet have certainly done their part as well.
During the most severe IVF drugs, my body changed daily. One day I could button my pants, the next day I couldn't, the next day I could again. My abdomen, responding to the daily shots of chemicals, was rising to the occasion.
My "fat" jeans- the ones I wear for "that time of the month" are now my "skinny jeans". It's very humbling. And when I sit down in the car, I feel flesh where I didn't use to feel flesh. I feel like I'm wearing a 1 inch fat suit on my entire body.
Before I even started this drug program, I had a feeling I would gain weight so I joined my local community gym for one month. I had a "go-getem" attitude and wanted to treat my body as kindly as possible. Ironically, my first trip to the gym not only did not make me more healthy, but rendered me lame.
I went for my normal run on the treadmill, ignoring the fact that my body was already heavier and my gait was changed due to the shots in my abdomen. I sprained my knee badly. Through the course of that run, my knee was starting to complain, but I toughed it out. Also, there was a 17-something athlete next to me who was running at a 45 degree incline holding 30 pound weights. My pride got the better of me; I was not going to stop until I got several miles under my belt. (I know... aren't I proud?)
This morning, in a moment of weakness, it occurred to me that my husband had vowed many things on our wedding day, but not to love me in "skinny and chub". He laughed. I made him vow it on the spot. He saw that I was not laughing, so he humored me. "In skinny and in chub."
Several weeks ago, it occurred to me that I needed to talk to my body. I had just gotten out of the shower and was eager to cover a multitude of sins (haha) but I stopped for a minute. What a marvelous piece of machinery the human body is: flexible, strong, smart and quick. I thanked God for the ability to walk and to move my arms freely. I marveled at how I have hair and stretchy skin. I even laughed at how my body "stores" before I get pregnant. My legs turn into columns, a veritable pantry for a growing fetus.
We're still getting tests done right now; the point of this post isn't whether or not we're pregnant. The point is that my body is responding to the highs and lows of life. In its marvelous sensitivity, it grows and shrinks with the demands placed upon it. And while I'm eager to demote my "skinny jeans" to "fat jeans" once again, I'm grateful for the health I do have.
Grace to me.
8 comments:
I wish I could have have your self grace. In all that I have been through, all my body has had to deal with, I still can not accept my chub. The drugs play a huge part in it, as does the lack of energy to do anything remotely like working out. Heck, I am still hating my chub, no where near accepting. But perhaps if I read this post another 10- no 100- times it may start to sink in. As always, thanks for sharing.
And grace to you, too, Janice.
You are a beautiful person, Em, inside and out...this post proves that once again. Love ya, girl..
K
You know, I could find another 100friends in this lifetime, and none of them would have your heart, and your sensitivity, and your beauty - yes, inside and out!
Here's to wearing a little "chub" in exchange for a little "ch" er "ub"!!
hey em,
i love you chub or no chub. :) this a was great post... honest, well-written and funny. keep 'em coming.
smooch.
Grace to you indeed.
Accepting our "Mommy" bodies is a difficult thing. It does take an enormous amount of grace.
Beth
You guys! You're gonna make me all weepy!
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