TMI Warning: The following may contain some very emotional and deeply personal information. If you don't really want to know, stop reading. Now. Seriously.
This one is a long time coming. I promised a while back that if I reached my weight loss goal of 100 pounds by my birthday last year, that I would "expose" myself and give everyone the lowdown on how the weight loss came about and how I did it. Well, I lost the 100 pounds, but my birthday came and went quietly with no big revelation. No one really asked me about it, and I am sort of glad that they didn't. Because the truth is that last year was not a good year for me. I went through quite a bit of struggle and almost didn't make it out of all the muck. I just recently got to the place where I could talk about it, and Deputy D just got to the place where he is comfortable with me sharing our story with everyone.
So here is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Deputy D and I have fertility issues. The kind of fertility issues that mean that we are only going to get pregnant if a miracle occurs. Yes, this is what started the whole long, happy/sad journey. We, like most couples that have been married for what they feel is an appropriate length of time and not having anywhere near the financial resources necessary, decided to add a bundle of joy to our family. Hopeful, optimistic, excited, we waited month after month after month expectantly, with no plus sign ever showing up on the test.
I began to suspect there was a problem, wondering what on earth it could be, because I clearly come from a long line of extremely fertile women that could repopulate the earth all by themselves if needed. We talked about bit about it... Let me just inject here that I LOVE Deputy D with all my heart. But once you go questioning someone's...ummm... manliness... they tend to get pricklier than a very grumpy porcupine.
So after much "conversation", we started testing. Among other things that we found out, I was diagnosed with PCOS and as being pre-diabetic and having hypothyroidism. My weight was causing my conditions, and my conditions were making it extremely hard for me to lose weight. Well... what was I supposed to do with that?
First things first. Lose weight. In my mind, listening to the doctor, that would fix it all. Lose weight and get pregnant. They put me on several different medications to treat my conditions, and these medicines did help me to lose weight. But I lost my first 20lbs just by dropping regular sodas. I do still drink diet and I know they are not so healthy either, but it's much better than what I was doing. Then I cut down my portion size.
I was a big girl... Deputy D used to say I was built like a linebacker. Yes, I know, it's mean. But he just doesn't seem to understand why. I just try to look past it. Anyway, I started out this journey at 246 pounds. And I LOVE food. And carbs. Ah, carbs. I could make a whole meal of just bread and I would be perfectly content. Bread and butter or bread and dipping oil. YUMM-O! Who needs meat and veggies anyway?
So there is also the issue that I can EAT. At that time, I could put away as much food as every other guy at the table combined and then some. It was not a pretty sight when I was hungry. Deputy D once had Little Man convinced that if I was hungry enough, I would eat him. And Little Man believed him. That's how bad it was. And let's not even get started on chocolate. Or the fact that I am a severe stress-eater.
My first action was to limit how much I was eating during the day. My body thought I had decided to starve myself, but in reality, I am just eating better, more normal portion sizes. Except when I am stressed. I still struggle with that to this day. Then I started trying to throw a little more healthy food in when I could. I also started drinking more water.
And the weight started coming off. It came off fast at first, and then slower and slower until I thought I would never reach 100 pounds. But I did, and I am happy with myself and what I accomplished. I feel better and I am more confident in myself. I am not embarrassed to go to school functions with Little Man or get my picture taken anymore. Little Man got made fun of several times at school because of how fat I was, and it broke my heart to see how bravely he defended me and how much he loves me. He has enough issues of his own. He does not need his mom adding to them.
So I lost the weight and we still did not get pregnant and I sank into a depression that I almost did not come out of. I lost interest in all my hobbies, I quit helping around the house because I was always so exhausted, I lost touch with most of my friends, I pushed Deputy D away because I was so stinkin' frustrated about the situation and did not know what else to do, and I basically shut down and crawled into a dark corner and sat there. Deputy D was a champ and took up the slack and tried to make everything better, even though to this day I still don't think he understands what it's like for a woman to long to be a mother and have to live with the reality that it is probably never going to happen.
I stopped caring about almost everything, and life got pretty bleak. And now y'all are catching on to why Deputy D nicknamed me Emo Marie, huh? He would get so frustrated with me, that he would just throw up his hands and yell, "QUIT BEING SO EMO!!!" It is important to note here that Deputy D does not deal well with female emotions in general at all. One of the quickest things I can do to make him mad is start crying. It's really strange, but I guess it's who he is.
I started blogging (Emo Marie and the Quest for a Baby), but I was in such a dark place that even that was not helping me. Possibly, it was even making it worse.
I am not sure exactly what snapped me out of it. Maybe I finally realized that Little Man is going though a really tough time, and desperately needs me. Maybe it's seeing so many of my friends and family deal with life-threatening illnesses. Maybe it's just the fact that I finally realized that I am truly blessed. We have jobs, a roof over our heads, food on the table. I have a beautiful son, and loving, if cantankerous, hubby. Not having a baby is not the end of the world. It's hard, but not the end of the world. Sometimes it takes me a good, long while to get to the right answer, but I almost always get there eventually. I am just sorry for what I put my family through to get there.
Don't get me wrong. There are times that I still want another baby so desperately that it's hard to breathe. When I see a family with a baby, or walk through the baby section at Walmart... I stop and think about what it would be like to hold a baby in my arms again. I want to share that experience with Deputy D so badly. I cry a little, but then I take a deep breath and pull myself together, give it over to God, and go back to whatever I was doing. And sometimes when people innocently ask me when Deputy D and I are finally going to give Little Man a brother or sister, I have to stop and think about what to say. Because I really don't know what an appropriate answer is.
I put myself in the dark place, and with the support of Deputy D and Little Man (who both love me unconditionally) and the support of my family and friends, I pulled myself out of it and I don't want to go back.
This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.
I will be thankful for everything that God has given me, and Deputy D and I will hold hands and deal with whatever the future brings us. Baby or no baby. And in the meantime? I will continue to heal, and I will pursue my Quest for Domestic Perfection. And probably drive Deputy D bonkers somewhere along the way. After all, how could I ask for more?
"So if there's anything I've learned from this journey I am on
Simple truths will keep you going, simple love will keep you strong
'Cause there are questions without answers and flames that never die
And heartaches we go through are often blessings in disguise
So thank you, Lord, oh thank you, Lord
How could I ask for more?"
~Cindy Morgan
No comments:
Post a Comment