12 Pounds

I've been thinking for quite some time that I should blog about my post-partum weight loss. I've played with the idea of starting a separate blog completely dedicated to weight loss - Bringing Sexy Back - or something equally as clever. Yes, I fancy myself clever.

I am horrified at the thought of looking the way I look right now, forever. With the beauty of pregnancy and the miracle of childbirth comes the misery of post-partum. I was distracted from the horror of it for the first 4 weeks, just completely wrapped up in my baby boy. But as he and I have gotten ourselves into a groove, I've had a few more minutes to myself and a few more minutes to linger in front of the mirror after a shower or scrutinize the photos of myself and Myki that I'm sending off to family and friends.

I still look huge! In the photos, you can see how my pre-pregnancy clothes are stretched to capacity to cover a wider frame. I'm left with not much of a waist and my stomach looks as if it has literally deflated causing my skin to hang down in all its stretch-marked glory. Combine that with what nursing has done to my breasts and I am the picture of saggy skin.

Now, I was fully aware that my post-partum body would not look ideal. My problem, is the fear I have in getting it back to what it looked like before...and ideally, continuing to work on it until I look the way I did in college. Funny how fat I thought I was then.

Unfortunately I have a lazy streak and I've never been much for working out. This is why I've been hesitant to post on the weight loss issue. Once I put it out here in cyberspace, I will be held accountable...I will have to really work on my weight and more importantly, my health.

So here it is, my pledge to work really hard to overcome my laziness and get into shape. I gained 55 lbs in my pregnancy...I walked into the hospital on June 4, 2009 weighing 250 lbs. I am now down to 207 lbs. My goal is to be at my pre-pregnancy weight of 195 by the time Myki is 3 months old (September 5) and to be at my ideal weight of 160 by the time he is 1 year old. I want to have the energy to go outside and run after my son everyday...to help him learn to play sports, swim, ride a bike and just enjoy activity. So I will work to do something physical each and every day - go for a walk, pop in a workout DVD, visit the stroller strides class I just discovered online, maybe even go for a swim. And I commit to post monthly on my progress.

For now, I find solace in my progress thus far (the benefits of nursing!) and revel in the fact that I'm just 12 lbs from my pre-preggo weight.

Wowzers

We just got back from the Dr's office and our baby boy weighs a whopping 13 lbs. That means he's gained 2 lbs in a week and a half. Amazing for a baby who left the hospital refusing to breastfeed. He's wearing a size 3 diaper and clothes that are 3-6 months. I'm amazed at how quickly he's growing and already nostalgic for the day when he was 8 lbs, 10 ounces.

A Day in the Life

As my maternity leave comes to an end, I marvel at the past six weeks. My son has grown so much in this time. He has literally grown 2 inches and gained at least 4 lbs. He's now round and chubby. He reacts to my voice, to my face, my touch, to music and movement.

Yesterday was a fun-filled day of activity. We woke up at around 8:30 am and sat in our trusty recliner for breakfast. As Michael nursed and stared up at me, I read him a segment from "The Time Traveler's Wife," my first grown-up read in months that doesn't have to do with pregnancy or baby care. He dozed off on a full belly and woke up an hour later wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. He had a mid-morning snack and off to the living room to play.

I put him on his belly for tummy time. The pediatrician says to put him on his belly whenever he's awake so he can learn to lift his head, do baby push-ups and eventually, roll over. He is an expert head lifter and can get about halfway up on his arms for push-ups. Unfortunately, his exercise only lasts about 10 minutes as he gets frustrated with not being able to look around the room or flip himself over. Even his frustration is adorable though.

Once we've hit his cap on tummy time, we move to his back on his new play mat (care of Titi Dionne). He is entranced by the mirror and stares at his beautiful self in awe. He starts to protest at not being held but I begin the music and his protest subsides. I may have a musician on my hands because music and singing always seems to do the trick. We hang out there for a while and when that gets old, we move on to his song stage and mirror...another present. I get some smiles out of that one.

Myki starts sucking on his fingers, a sign that it is mealtime once again. I tune into some HGTV (a maternity leave obsession) as he eats lunch and ponder when I'll get to make my own lunch (it's not 2:15). He doses off and I start to nod off myself so I skip lunch in favor of an afternoon nap. I put him in my bed with me...a no-no, I know but sometimes when we're alone, I can't help myself. I wake up at 4:15 as Daddy blows up my phone wondering where we are. Myki wakes up just as I finish off a very late lunch.

Then off to a relaxing bath so that he smells good for Daddy.

I left out the diaper changes which are oh so much fun as you can imagine. You really do just need to laugh when you change a little boys diaper. At least 50% of the diaper changes end up in messes to be cleaned up. That air hitting his backside when you open the diaper usually prompts a "reaction."

Mike and I then enjoy a yummy (and more and more healthy since baby) dinner with Myki looking on from his rocker. A wonderful end to my day, dinner with my boys.

Thank You Baby Michael

What a whirlwind month....yes a month! Michael turned a month old yesterday and although I feel like the time has just flown by, so much has happened in that month. From walking into the hospital with soggy pants on June 4 to the dreaded c-section on the 5th and finally meeting my son at 11 PM, my Dad's two week visit (the help and company was such a blessing), Mike and I's very overwhelming and emotional bouts in those first weeks as we adjusted to our new roles as parents, little Michael's first look of recognition on Father's Day (he was horrified that his grandmother took him from me - yes, there was a pouty bottom lip) and that first gummy smile a few days later while I read to him, 3 Doctor's visits and a whopping 10 lb weigh-in, bath time progressing from absolute hysterics to a few whimpers of discomfort, many late nights in my recliner nursing, then burping, then trying to figure out how to put my son down and get some sleep, the worries of acid reflux, my breastfeeding struggles, the many gifts and tons of phone calls...it has all combined to be the most challenging and rewarding month of my life.

I've been reminded how blessed I am with fantastic friends, family and coworkers. Myki's fully stocked room and the stack of gift cards we have yet to spend is a testament to that. And I have been challenged - each day I wonder if tomorrow I'll give in and give him formula instead of being a slave to his nursing needs and the sore nipples they have caused. Each day I set another goal - today, I will do laundry; today, I will clean my room, or the kitchen; today, I will attempt to write in my blog and call 3 people back. Sometimes I am successful, most times I'm not but slowly, I'm finding the energy and stolen moments to begin fulfilling my responsibilities again.

I'm still not sure if I'll make it to a year of exclusive breastfeeding as I'd originally planned. My ability to keep my house clean and orderly while working and taking care of Myki is also in question...hell, my ability to start working again is in question. But each day I get at least one big, bright smile, a few calm moments with my snuggle bucket and little expressions and actions that make me laugh and smile. Each day I watch my baby (wow, my baby) grow and learn and those moments have caused an optimism in me that I thought had been lost long ago.

We Have Arrived!!

June 27 and it's been 3 weeks since Michael III entered my life. When I wrote my last post, this moment seemed so far away. I could never have imagined how much I love him and how much I've enjoyed taking care of him and watching him grow these past three weeks.

Our Birth Story:
My water broke on Thursday, June 4 at work...what the hell I was doing at work I still wonder. I went to the bathroom and just thought I'd had an accident or something. But the flow just kept coming and no one has to pee that much! So I tentatively hobbled from the bathroom to the office and urgently pulled aside a coworker who has an infant. "I think my water just broke," I told her and described what happened. She confirmed, "your water broke."

Unable to sit at my cubicle leaking amniotic fluid, I ducked into another coworker's office with a towel for cover and got on the phone. I called the Doctor's office where the nurse told me to "get to the hospital" with an urgency I wasn't expecting. Then I called my husband who I fear didn't quite beleive this was happening....and my mom and dad.

With Mike stuck in traffic, two of my coworkers had to take me to the hospital. The ride was uneventful - none of the huffing, puffing and screaming of TV labor. I was all settled at the hospital and 2 hours had passed since my water broke - and no contractions. Strange.

So they gave me medication to induce labor. And...I labored.....for 27 hours. I had 3 shifts of nurses come and go. It's amazing the range of quality in people who have all supposedly recieved the same training. It was really the night nurse who got me through - she was my own personal drug dealer...but with a sympathetic voice that made any guilt I had over taking medication go away. "I can give you a little sleeping medication, just a little something to relieve the pain, take the edge off..." And after hours of deep breathes and clenched fists, I acquiesed. Then the morning came and with it, some progress and the epidural.

I had read that the baby has to be delivered within 24 hours of your water breaking or there's a risk of infection. So at 22 hours, I was a bit panicked! "Get my baby out of there!" I thought desperately. But the doctor eased my fears assuring me that the risk of infection was to me, not the baby. I guess that was a relief? At 24 hours, I begged to be checked once again. Almost 7 centimeters dilated (I had to get to 10 before I could push and it had taken 3 hours to get from 6 to 7) and the baby was at 0 station (he had 4 more levels to go). Unprepared for 9 more hours of labor, I broke down into tears and asked for a c-section. I NEVER thought I'd actually ask for the c-section.

Even the doctor seemed relieved. So the medication stopped and with it, the labor. Reassurance to me that I wasn't going to hit that 10 centimeters on my own. And we all waited for the operating room to be available. I was prepared for the c-section, anxious to meet my baby - Michael or Gabriella - we still didn't know.

I will spare everyone the gory details of the c-section. Suffice it to say that I was terrified and I'm convinced that pressure is actually a code word for pain. But thank god for morphine and epidurals and good doctors because Michael was delivered at 6:10 PM on Friday, June 5, 2009 safe and sound. A little horrified at being forcibly removed from his cacoon I think, but safe and sound nonetheless.

38 Weeks.....Are We There Yet?

As elated as I have been and still am to be pregnant, my level of mental exhaustion has steadily increased since my last post more than a month ago. In this time, my thoughts on pregnancy have slowly shifted from daily positives to a group of daily complaints that I try hard not to express but, they just overcome me. I am over it. I am over the swollen feet (check out my Easy Spirit sneakers!) and legs, the feeling that both have been severely bruised, the sensation that I've been hit between my legs with a baseball bat, the exhaustion, back pain, increasingly red and itchy stretchmarks (see photo #1), and the intensely painful underside of my belly, a photo of which I will spare you. Never mind the 3-6 times I wake up in the middle of the night to heave myself out of bed and pee, the periodic insomnia and a general sense of immobility.

But the positives do still exist. I found a really great church that I imagine our new family attending together....it just feels right. My nesting instinct is in full speed - the baby's room is all set-up and despite my lack of mobility, I managed to put everything together, wash everything else, set it all up and then just look at it with a big smile on my face.

So it's not all bad. But, I think it's safe to say both Mike and I are over being expectant parents and looking forward to being new parents. Hopefully Baby Fuller cooperates with our desires. Just 10 days to go!

Just the Two of Us

Today is Mike and I's first wedding anniversary.  It was a year ago today that most of our loved ones trekked from across the east coast, the islands and even Bolivia, to watch a teary-eyed couple exchange vows (2 hours after they were scheduled to begin) on the stage / alter of the Miami Beach  Botanical Gardens.  It was such a perfect day and I remember that all I wanted was for the day to continue, to remain in that moment as long as I could.  

And now, at the end of our newliwededness, I find myself in awe of our first year as man and wife.  I am 8 months pregnant!  We live in a beautiful apartment in Pompano of all places.  I finally got the bedroom furniture I'd been talking about for our entire year and a half of engagement.  We are both gainfully employed, we live on a budget but are finally NOT broke, we have a lot of fun just sitting in our apartment going back and forth and he still manages to make me laugh, feel beautiful, smart and appreciated each and every day.  It is not your traditional fairytale but definitely my fairy tale.

This weekend, we spent a night at the Hyatt Bonaventure Resort & Spa....a last hurrah if you will, a weekend "away" for just the two of us before we begin the awesome stage ahead.  We slept in a kind size bed with no less than 20 pillows (yes, I know it is hard to believe but Mike and I don't have a king bed!  despite our obvious mass).  We ate out the whole weekend, spent  hours lounging by the pool and yes, I had pancakes!  My husband also treated me to a much needed foot treatment at the Red Door Spa at the hotel, my first spa experience and unfortunately for him, I think I'm addicted.  We came back home and topped off the day with a shopping spree for baby!  I could have bought out the store, it was all just so cute.  Mike didn't give me the chance, he pulled the cart into the check-out and started scanning items before I could scoop everything up.  Probably for the best as despite his best efforts, our tab was definitely higher than expected.

Today, as I reflect on the year we had, I am grateful.  I am happy.  And I am optimistic about our future.  I know this is the first year of many.  

Perspective

Someone emailed this to me...one of the many chains we all get. But it was good timing I think. I have periodic panic attacks about this massive responsibility that is about to come my way (8 and a half weeks to go!). But this defintiely puts things in perspective. Not to say I beleive in all of these things but, it's a reminder that there's no need to go overboard!

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE 1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-base paints. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had baseball caps not helmets on our heads. As infants & children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes. Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and no one actually died from this. We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And, we weren't overweight. WHY? Because we were always outside playing....that's why!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day.. And, we were O..K. We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's and X-boxes. There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms. WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever. We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and, although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes. We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them. Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!! The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever. The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all. If YOU are one of them? CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good. While you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave and lucky their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?

Working at an organization that works with and for people with intellectual disabilities is an interesting sensation when you are pregnant. When I applied for my initial position at Best Buddies two years ago, I had no personal connection....I was just desperately seeking a job in Miami and thought, Special Events, why not?

In the last two years, I have learned so much about people with intellectual disabilities. I have learned that there is much more to personality than IQ and that although these people may be lower functioning than the "average" person, they may also be higher functioning in another area. They have their talents and things they can contribute to society and perhaps more importantly, conversation. They don't need to be shut down. This is a far cry from my initial thoughts on ret**ted people, a term I now know is nothing less than offensive. And although I am not always as patient with this group as I should be, I do now value them.

But, it is one thing to accept and appreciate something outside of your life and family and quite another to think about it inside those sacred walls. All of my tests have been perfect and I have had a wonderful pregnancy. And knock on wood, it will continue to be so and my baby's delivery will be complication free. But in the past two weeks, I've found myself in many conversations with my coworkers on the lives of two of our other coworkers who have intellectual disabilities. Margaret has down syndrome and Joyce, well I don't know that she has a specific condition, I think she just has a low IQ. Both of them are close to 60 and live with their mothers, who I always imagine to be somewhere near 100.

Mike and I were watching the Final Four last week and every time they zoomed in on a player's parents, I would joke that Mike and I need to start saving now so we can go watch our son play in the Final Four. I have fantasies about all of the vacations we will take across the country and the globe, exposing our baby, child, tween, teen to all that travel has to offer. I've already told Mike that we need to encourage all of our kids to go away to college because my college experience away was just so fantastic! And I've thought about whether it would be more beneficial to play the piano or the guitar. Would we be able to do all of those things, dream those big dreams, if our baby had some sort of "situation?" And what is it like to be 60, 70, 80, 90 and still worrying about whether or not your "child" can take care of herself? The thought is overwhelming.

I really don't have any feeling that my baby will have any type of challenge. He/She will be perfect - healthy, strong, smart, funny even :-) And something tells me that despite challenges, I'd probably be convinced by baby was all of those things anyway. But it does make you pray a little more, watch your diet a little more closely, not push those limits. And I think this whole chain of thought has the potential to make me better at my job...it makes everything a bit more personal. Perhaps even makes me a better advocate for a population I ignored only 2 years ago.

Itchy Belly, Swollen Feet and Sexuality

As I round the home stretch (10 weeks to go!), I find I am working harder and harder towards that inner peace and optimism that seemed to come so naturally only two weeks ago.

It's taken me a while to be able to admit this in cyberspace, but I am the unfortunate victim of what seem to be some pretty serious stretchmarks. They are bright red - like actual wounds....and span the very bottom of my belly (underneath, that part I can't really see) all the way up to the belly bottun which they frame in all it's popped out glory. They are really horrific and no matter how much I lather on the cocoa butter and the baby oil, they are only getting larger. It's sad really, I had really nice skin on my belly....my husband always pointed out how smooth it was.

I used to wear a 7 1/2 shoe....the last pair I bought was a 9....can you believe that?? And, like stretchmarks, I've heard the larger feet don't ever go back to how they were. It's a miracle people have so many kids; with all of these permanent dysfunctions it's hard to imagine feeling sexy again. The worst part of my foot situation is the swelling. I could probably manage an 8 1/2 if the width of my feet didn't double towards the end of each day. I mean, the saying "my feet swelled up like sausages" was never more true. Instead of being flat on the bottom and kind of flat across the top, my feet are literally cylinders from which peep pink Vienna sausages. And kneeling down - forget about it! I tried to look under the bed today and my legs are so swollen that it felt like I might actually burst.

I am also very much on the irritable side. I berated my husband for not doing the laundry or the dishes....as if miraculously he would begin doing something he never does. I got home today and knocked a glass over. The shards still fan around the kitchen because really, I can't bring myself to deal with it. And my patience for other people is waining. Today when I left work, I had 4 bags to lug to the car and, as per usual, no one thought to ask me for help. And usually I ask for help because why make myself suffer because other people are lazy or rude. But today, I just couldn't do it. My feet looked like sausages (as seen through the house slippers I put on to leave work), I was walking at a snail's pace - hobbling really - quite obviously struggling to put one foot in front of the other and my bags kept falling off of my shoulders so I'd have to stop and slowly teeter downward without loosing my balance to pick it up again. It was really pathetic. And although people can comment on how big my belly is and say "awww, baby" 100x, they don't seem to notice (how convenient) when I may need some common courtesy. Really it's a shame. And I just didn't speak to anyone on the way home...I couldn't play nice - I was pissed!

But since this is supposed to be my positive space, I will end on some more positive notes.

My baby is quite the little gymnast. He/She flips and kicks, punches and turns around, plays head, shoulder, knees and toes, knees and toes and then flips around again. It's amazing to watch.

My husband told me yesterday that the impossible has occurred - my belly dwarfs my chest! My whopping triple D's look puny compared to the wonder that is Baby Fuller. I had to laugh at that since I'm sure he NEVER could have imagined calling anything about my breasts small.

I daydream about a slimmer, happier Mr. & Mrs. Fuller frolicking around a park with our baby. I feel like he/she can make us better, make us push ourselves to be the best we can be (not to be cliched). So I hope that we will get in shape, continue our ambitions and be happy and I can see it. I can see it. It is out there in the universe waiting for me.

And the last high note, a check-out person in ghetto a** Pompano Beach.....she asked if I was having a c-section and I said "I hope not." And she said "oh lawd...I had two babies and they had to cut them outta me, I couldn't push them out. They would've stretched my junk all big" - picture a woman in a McDonald's uniform holding her hands in a circle about the size of a watermelon. Mike and I just laughed at the insanity. Then, the next customer is a man and she asks him if he has kids and he does. So she asked if his wife delivered vaginally (at McDonald's!) and he said she did. And the checkout lady makes that face you make when you walk by a stinky dumpster and asks "that didn't make you loose your sexuality for her??" I just had to walk away, I had to take a step back.....your sexuality for her?? What is wrong with people. LOL.