Whelp, what can I say?
Later on the same day as my last post, I found out that my dream had finally come true. I was pregnant! After 6 months of putting my body through its paces, it rewarded me by giving me a child. I now have a perfect, beautiful, wonderful 10-month-old baby, and her name is Reagan.
I also have 60 pounds of fat back on my body! 😦
Let’s just say the last 1.5 years have been both the most amazing, stressful, and trying time of my life (so far). I gave up my dream job to move back to Abilene…Brad graduated from his undergrad, but gave up going on for his Masters in order to come back to work as a Sales Manager. It just wasn’t feasible to continue down the track we were and raise a baby.
So, I got preggers and told the diet and working out to go eff themselves. After my miscarriage in 2009 I was scared to breathe, let alone work out. Once I knew things were ok, the impending stress of “oh my God, I’m going to be a mom,” and “Oh my God, how are we going to afford this??” drove me to eating like a freight train.
After my precious daughter was born, I went through the most dramatic (traumatic?) bought of baby blues. And on the tail-end of that we made the decision to move back to Abilene…which also meant I gave up a job that had meant so much to me. I spent the summer of 2012 depressed. I didn’t think I was at the time, but I think that had to have been what it was. Add in to that 3 or 4 failed attempts to reboot my diet, followed with that all-too familiar crash that comes afterwards (Taco Bueno, anyone?), and you have…this. I have totally brought myself 100% to where I was pre-awesome diet in 2011.
Of course my first thought is to cry (done that), feel sorry for myself (done that too), and grab some comforting pizza (done lots of that!). But obviously that’s not helping the situation. On some levels I can’t believe this happened, but on so many more levels I know that I can’t sit around feeling sorry for myself. It happened, I had a baby, and I would never EVER change that. But to be morbidly (ha!) honest, I’m not going to be any good to her in this shape. At this point I can’t hardly hold her for more than 5 minutes before needing to set her down because my back hurts, my arms hurt, I’m out of breath. How can I ever be a good mother, and a good example, if I don’t get my shite together?
So, I’m back. A little bruised ego, a LOT more me. A new town (I’ve got to find a pool!), new situations, new family. But I’m back, and I am determined. I’m back on a plan with Alan, he has a new challenge that starts tomorrow. I know starting something on Jan 1 is cliche and usually fails, but I think I needed a big start to get my rear in gear.
Lord, help me, I’ll need a bit of divine intervention here as well!