When am I due? Oh seven months ago.
This, folks, is my post-second-baby body. It has taken me seven months to come to terms with it. But I’m almost there. I’m almost comfortable being uncomfortable.
Weight has never been an issue for me. Maybe I’d hit the gym a little harder before a beach vacation or need to watch my brownie intake after a week or two of sloppy eating. But I’ve never been faced with an extra 15 pounds on the scale. That didn’t even happen at my four week postpartum checkup after having My Girl.
And maybe that is a part of why dealing with this extra weight has been such a struggle: it simply wasn’t an issue after having my first baby. I lost the weight obnoxiously quickly with My Girl. And I assumed the same would happen after round two. Boy am I wrong.
But as My Hubs has said more than once: my body is doing the best it can under the circumstances. My Bear is awesome, but he’s been a tough cookie: colicky, anti-sleep, anti-bath, anti-bottle, anti-anything-that-isn’t-his-momma. I’ve yet to sleep more than a four hour stretch since bringing home My Bear. I’m unable to eat really clean or workout intensely because it really affects my milk supply. I’m really trying to make a napper out of this kid, so I’m home-bound with staggering nap schedules between my two kiddos. And when I do make it to the gym? My Bear isn’t the happiest customer & may or may not have been asked to leave in the past.
So I’m getting comfortable with the idea that 2014 just isn’t my year of beauty. It’s the year of baby. It’s the year I didn’t sleep, the year I sported a perma-ponytail, the year I wore a body shaping one piece to the beach. It’s also the year of love – oh so much love, the year I kept it all together when it would’ve been understandable to fall apart, the year I became my strongest self.
And while I’m counting down the months for when I can claim my body again, I am doing my best to cherish this time with My Bear. It will be fleeting. It will be missed, I’m sure.
But the baby weight? Not so much.