Survival Mode

It occurred to me the other day, that you may have thought I reached my goals and abandoned you.  Alas, dear friend, this is not the case.  I've been absent from writing for the past year and a half because during the course of my ongoing transformation, well....  we had another baby.

Meet Kennedy Noelle.

She's officially our last baby- number 6 of 6.  She's not only completely healthy, but also completely wonderful.

However, getting her to this point took a major toll on my body.  Between an extremely difficult pregnancy and compounded stress, I have spent most of the last year and a half in what I like to call "survival mode".

Survival mode is where you do whatever it takes to stay alive- like eating things you normally wouldn't eat, and laying around for almost nine months because of overwhelming nausea... the entire pregnancy.  I HATE survival mode.  I DESPISE the thought of having to go through the transformation all over again.

But, here we are.  Almost 100 pounds heavier than when I last wrote, and supremely uncomfortable.

I realized, the other day, that I've become a hermit.  Seriously.  I LOVE to be around people, but I'm embarrassed and ashamed of what I allowed to happen to my body- so I realized that I'm hiding.  I guess I feel like it's safe here... in my house.  No one can judge me.  No one can see the damage I'm doing to my body.  No one can criticize me for my sin- this gluttony that I'm wrestling with.

You see- that precious angel didn't do this to me.  The FIFTH C-Section didn't do it to me.  I did this to me.  Yes, I was in survival mode during pregnancy, and even for a while after.  Yes, I had to eat whatever I could to function and to keep baby healthy and growing.  But I took it too far.  I ate well beyond my natural limits.  I pushed myself, often finding comfort in food.  Postpartum has been rough this time, and as depression tried to creep in, I felt out of control, and tried to manipulate a false sense of security by gorging myself.

So when I got on the scale the other day and realized I'm still at the same weight as the day I delivered her... pre-surgery, I realized it's time to change.  I cannot live like this any more.  I owe it to all of my kids, and to my self to get my health back.  I don't want them to watch me die a slow death, brought on by health problems linked to morbid obesity.

I want to live- to really live.  I want to run and play with them again.  I want to jump on the trampoline and swim with them, without being worried about breaking the diving board or ruining the trampoline.  I want to watch them walk across the stage at graduation and down the aisle at each of their weddings and not be hiding beneath layers of well-dressed fat.  I want to set a good example, leaving a legacy, not just for my children, but for generations to follow.

So, friends, I'm back on track, and I hope you are, too.

Looking forward to journeying with you,

The Fat Girl,

Slim.