While I did eventually make peace with my appearance while pregnant, those post-birth pounds were always on my mind. Gaining weight sucked, even if it was healthy-baby-growing weight. Each time the number on the scale increased, I wondered how much of that pound would stick around post-birth.
With Westley, I gained 38 pounds and it took me almost 18 months to lose them all. To be fair, I was too depressed to do much of anything in those first nine months. Even so, it took nine months to lose the weight the first time around, and I did it by kicking my own ass. Daily workouts, raw veggies, coffee—I was cruel to my body. I got into a groove that lasted a year. Right around the time Westley turned two-and-a-half, I was the lightest I've ever been (and I wanted to lose another 15 lbs. because I am a crazy person).
That weight wasn't sustainable, because I was killing myself to get there. But I wasn't all unhealthy all the time, and looking back, I'm proud of myself for taking all the weight off the first time around. I know it will be harder this time, and not just because I plan to continue feeding myself this time. Three days after Ivy was born, I was down just 10 lbs. I found this incredibly depressing, but reminded myself that the hospital had spent a couple days pumping me full of fluid. My fingers were twice their normal width. Over the next two weeks I lost another seven pounds, due in large part to those crazy postpartum night sweats.
For the past seven weeks, I've maintained that two-weeks-post-birth weight. I just don't have a lot of time to devote to weight loss. I had this idea that I would go for walks with Ivy in the Ergo while Westley was in preschool. But so far, I've been using that time to grocery-shop, run errands, and advance the never-ending laundry. Since Ivy was born, I've only managed to squeeze in two short workouts and two walks (not counting our weekly strolls to the chiropractor's office, which is about half a mile from home).
Then there's the food aspect. Forget about dieting! Most of my "meals" consist of whatever I can grab quickly while Ivy complains in her bouncy chair for five minutes. In other words, lots of muffins. And, as you may have noticed, "the main ingredient in muffins is cake." If I'm going to lose these last 15 lbs. (give or take), I'll need to work on my time-management skills.
I'm trying to be gentle with myself as I get used to life with two children. Losing weight is still important to me. I'd like to get back into my skinny jeans, if for no other reason than I have just one pair of pants that fits me right now, and they may not be actual pants. My goal weight isn't that far away. But for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm not willing to punish myself to get there.
That alone feels like progress.