As I stood there looking at the positive pregnancy test, I was overcome with emotion, excited for the joy to come, scared for the unknowns. Instantly in love with the tiny person growing inside me. But as I stood there, my weight was on my mind. Being overweight was not a good thing to begin with, mixing it with pregnancy was worse. As it was my doctor had been on me for years about PCOS and the risk of gestational diabetes. She had warned that if I didn’t lose weight there was a good chance I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant in the first place. Well, surprise, surprise.
I knew the risks and I was still excited. But as I stood there looking between my reflection and the test I swore, I was not going to be one of those people that gained a ton of weight in pregnancy and then blamed it on the baby. I was going to be different.
As it turned out, I wasn’t different. Don’t throw stones. The nausea set in almost immediately. I had severe nausea from dawn til dusk throughout the whole pregnancy. At first, I lost about 10 lbs. Eventually I discovered saltine crackers and orange juice settled my stomach and vitamin b suckers became a staple. As long as my stomach was never empty the nausea was manageable. Besides that, my regular bad eating habits of quick, convenient, mostly processed food did me no favors and the “eating for two” excuse came up more than it should have.
Over the first six months of the pregnancy I gained about 20 lbs. Then, between 6 and 9 months my weight shot like a rocket, up and up at about 15 lbs a month. 65 lbs in total before my first son was born, a healthy 7 lbs even.
I was amazed that within 7 days of giving birth 30 lbs came right back off. I never developed diabetes and everyone was healthy. I felt good, now that I was relieved of the misery of that much water retention and lumpy baby.
But those extra 35 lbs remained. I tried and tried but not diet did it. The exhaustion of the early days of parenthood prevailed. Before I knew it, I was pregnant again. Then, I ended up having back to back losses and the emotional derailment that goes along with miscarriage can be unparalleled.
Finally I conceived again and carried my Rainbow baby to term, gaining only 14 lbs in the process. Again, I lost 20 lbs immediately and by her first birthday, was pregnant again. Up and down. Up and down. Never sleeping. Another 25 lbs on and off. This time with the elevated weight in combination with my age, I didn’t escape diabetes. In fact, I was introduced to new complications, blood clots. The birth was really difficult, the cord was wrapped twice around his neck, his heart rate was dropping. My blood sugar dropped to 55. The doctor told me he had to come now! So I pushed and his face was bruised in the process, though at first I thought he had been strangled. He had NICU time, he was too big, the product of a diabetic mother and he couldn’t regulate his blood sugar.
Finally, two years later, my fourth baby. This time, more diabetes, more blood clots, and a placental abruption. Childbirth is not for the faint of heart…
All told, by the time I was ready to deliver my last baby, I had ballooned up to 282 lbs. It was misery. Everything hurt. I couldn’t bend over, I heaved myself around. I couldn’t sleep. My bones ached from the swelling. The tendons in my feet splayed to the point that walking caused bone to touch the ground and I could no longer walk barefoot, even to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I woke up that last day before a scheduled induction due to medical issues, so puffy and swollen I could barely open my eyes or speak through Goldie Hawn lips.
I prayed this would be the highest number I ever saw on the scale.
I had the baby and just like before, I dropped about 27 lbs in a week. I stabilized at about 255 lbs, a full time working mother to a 6 year old, 4 year old, 2 year old and a newborn in desperate need of her health and control in her life.