Our Scarlet Letters

I can remember the first time I found a stretch mark on my hip. I honestly cannot remember when it was, I think I was in my late teens. I'm not sure. But I remember the horror I felt. The gasp and the shock. Of course it was little and I don't remember ever seeing that particular stretch mark again. Now I'm pretty sure it'd be covered up by the 3 dozen others anyways.

Stretch marks were honestly one of my biggest fears going into pregnancy. I have never scarred easily. In fact I hardly have any scars. One where I was bitten by a brown recluse on my leg and one where I almost cut my toe off on a nail. And a chicken pox scar on my forehead. Otherwise I've just got a lot of freckles. But I have seen women at the pool with these angry red stretch marks up their sides and across their tummies and was horrified at the notion that my tummy would look like that. So when I found out I was pregnant I scoured the internet for some guaranteed way to prevent them. Of course, there isn't one. Lots of empty promises and paid advertisements. But nothing guaranteed. So I went with cocoa butter and crossed my fingers.

I think I was about 8 months along when nearly overnight I developed a dozen stretch marks. I really appreciated it when my OB pointed out the stretch marks at my next check-up. If looks could kill that man would probably be six feet under right now. After I had Evie it seemed like my stretch marks multiplied. My deflated beach ball belly was covered in a crisscrossing of angry red, pale white and light brown stretch marks from hip to hip. I was disgusted. I looked in the mirror at my body and felt nothing but despair. The vibrant beauty which I saw when my body was a vessel for a new life was gone. In its place was exhaustion, saggy skin, and a lot of extra weight, which evidently does NOT disappear overnight.

Stretch marks to me were like a scarlet letter. A badge of shame. Marks of embarrassment and time misspent.  I wanted them all to just disappear...ASAP. I hated them. I was careful to make sure and wear shirts that had no chance of accidentally riding up a little. I was absolutely mortified at the idea of anyone seeing them. I didn't even want my husband to see them. I would carefully avoid looking at my stomach when I changed or showered. I absolutely hated the way they looked.

I am now four months post baby #2 and my perspective is dramatically different on the whole stretch mark thing. For one, most of my stretch marks have faded. I probably have half a dozen on my hips and a few across my stomach. Not too bad. Maybe in another year or so the rest of my stomach won't be quite so...icky. But maybe it will. Whatever. I did have two babies in two years. 18 months pregnant with about 8 months off...that can be pretty hard on ya. But come what may. Because honestly, I will be okay.

You know why I'll be okay?

My stretch marks aren't badges of shame. My body did a wonderful, incredible thing...TWICE. It grew life. Beautiful, miraculous life. And I know it sounds kinda hokey but I'm proud of the little people I created. They are beautiful little girls. And it's amazing to think about what all happens during pregnancy. How two microscopic cells grew into these little people. With likes and dislikes, personalities and temperaments, my husband's eyes and my curly hair. Anyone who doesn't believe in God must never have spent time around children. But I'm pretty happy with those little people. So I don't really feel like the stretch marks are something I should be ashamed of. So many women are so ashamed of their bodies. For some reason the entire female population needs to be a size 0 with flawless skin, a flat tummy and a cute little butt. But we don't! It's a ridiculous aspiration.

And for those who are dealing with those icky stretch marks and a less than perfect tummy, I say be thankful. There are so many women who aren't lucky enough to get pregnant. Or who may have been able to get pregnant but weren't able to carry their baby to term. Those dimpled marks and streaks are proof of the 9 months I dedicated my body to another person, to another life. Proof of one of the smallest of sacrifices I could make for my children. In the grand scheme of things, I think any good mother would give up far more than her pre-baby body for her children. I'm not saying a good mother doesn't still regularly MISS that pre-baby body. I wouldn't complain about having both my babies and my body. But if it comes down to choosing, I am definitely choosing the babies. I will take stretch marks and then some, whatever I have to. Because those kids mean far more to me than anything else.

Successes and failures of dieting

So, I work in a job that requires us to wear a uniform to work Monday through Thursday. On the weekends (Friday included) we get to wear our blue jeans with a work shirt. Today, for the FIRST time, I'm wearing jeans that don't have an elastic waist for the first time since last July. They aren't my size 5's or even my size 7's. They're size 11's. They're the jeans that I bought a few months after Evie was born because I was tired of wearing maternity jeans. It's a success, and although it does feel like a success it is a bittersweet one.

A year ago now I had finally gotten back down into my size 5's and my small shirts. I had lost 70 lbs since Evie's birth in August and was incredibly proud of myself. It took a LOT of hard work and perseverance. I stuck to my low-calorie diet, did belly dancing and a couple hundred crunches every day. EVERY day. And it paid off. I weighed around 125 lbs when I quit officially "dieting." Though I wanted to get back down into the teens where I had been the summer before I had Evie.

I started slacking some on the diet before I got pregnant. I had probably gained around 5-10 lbs but its hard to say since it's not like I was going to the doctor or anything to see what I weighed once a month. At my first couple of prenatal visits my weight was in the 130s. And at that point I really shouldn't have been gaining preggo weight. So it was probably just my laziness.

By the end of my pregnancy I weighed 195 lbs. I was kinda devastated because I had gained as much weight as I had with my first pregnancy, except this time I had stayed fairly active, walking several times a week and chasing a one-year old around several hours a day, and had watched what I ate. I ate fast food sparingly and never got a "large" meal, unlike with my first pregnancy where I just assumed the weight would be easy to lose and just ate whatever I wanted. Being a bit wiser the second time I kept my calorie and fat intake down but despite my efforts, I was just as big at the end. Since the baby was smaller, I guess I was bigger.

Elly is about 9 weeks old now and I have lost about 46 lbs. Technically I've lost 50 lbs since I lost 45, regained 4 when I started birth control (stupid hormones) and then lost 5. I currently weight about 149 lbs. And while I can't fit into my size 8 uniform pants or my size 7 jeans, the size 11 jeans are a little roomy. And the size 14 uniform pants that a coworker gave me to wear until I get into my usual ones work but they're definitely way too big.

I'm not denying that I've made a lot of progress in 2 months. And I'm definitely on track to be back down at 125 by the six month mark like I was the first time. Just 24 more pounds!

But at the same time, spring is here and summer is fast approaching. Down here in the south, we don't have a lot of time between snow and sauna. Seems like one week you're building a snow man, the next it's 100 degrees and the air is so thick you can hardly breathe. Soon I will need to be wearing shorts and tank tops and showing lots of skin and I'm a long ways from being able to fit into my summer clothes. After Evie I had all winter to get skinny. Winter means sweatpants, sweatshirts, sweaters and jeans. Baggy, loose-fitting clothes that don't show any skin or extra weight. Summer clothes aren't as forgiving. Plus, since I've never been 140-some pounds during the summer before I don't have clothes to fit a 140-some-pound me. My shorts, tee shirts and tank tops were all bought when I was a smaller, more fit person and I cringe at the thought of going shopping with my two-babies-in-two-years body. In all honesty, I want to curl up in the fetal position and cry. Well, I do cry a little bit.

This is the summer before I got pregnant with Evie.


It's just hard.

So my goal now is 24 more pounds to be back to a happy weight. Thirty pounds and I will be walking on air, ecstatic and beyond happy. If I can lose 10 lbs a month then I will be back to a normal size before Evie's birthday. And I'll just suffer through the summer in athletic shorts and baggy t-shirts.

But dieting is so hard. And so frustrating. And losing weight takes time. And requires eating lots of boring food!

Like this...

Stupid weight loss shakes. Though, unlike most people who drink them, I do actually like them. I just get bored drinking them every morning for breakfast. And them having one for lunch or supper some days.

I'd much rather have some of these...

Blueberry muffins that I made Evie this morning. She ate three. And a piece of cheese. And drank a huge cup of whole milk. It's frustrating when you're jealous of what your kid is eating.

Of course, it's all worth the two precious girls that I go home to every night. Even if one of them likes to steal my lean pockets and the other won't let me have 5 minutes to do crunches in the morning. I love them more than I loved being a size 5. But I hope that one day in the not too far future I will get to have both. In the meantime I stick to my 1200 calorie, high protein diet. I do at least 50 crunches every day after the girls are asleep and we go for walks as often as time and weather allow.

And of course there's this cutie-patootie...(who I swear is already trying to say "momma"...is that possible?)