I gained a lot of weight during my very brief pregnancy with Shiloh, and since then, rather than lose it I may have gained a little bit more. I don't like it. It's hard to go through my closet and only have 3 or 4 tops that fit and one pair of pants. I'm not that fond of looking in the mirror right now either. But it's not an all consuming thought for me.
I know what needs to be done. I need to not have that second portion after I'm no longer hungry. I need to stop having an extra piece of dessert. I need to be more mindful and snack less.
A few days ago the GH, for the first time in the several months that this has been going, on said something. Very gently he asked if there was anything he could do to help me. So I told him a few ways that I thought he could help. After that I thought of other things. Just as I was drifting to sleep it occurred to me to pray about it so I murmured a prayer for help to be aware and disciplined the next day.
The next day started out fine. It was a very good day in fact. Just after lunch I laid Little's sleeping body down for a nap and knelt, as I often do, at the piano bench to pray. (It doubles as a prayer bench for me since we have no space.) Two slow breaths to quiet myself and suddenly I was weeping. Silent long wracking sobs that came out of no where and for no apparent reason. Why was I crying?
A friend's twin sister died last week. She was my friend too. Maybe it was that? But it wasn't.
I asked similar questions, all the while sobbing, until I wondered if it was about Shiloh again. And then, welling up out of some hidden place inside of me came this thought, "I don't want to be my normal weight again! I don't want to look like I did before I was pregnant! I don't want to look like it never happened! I should be pregnant right now, not trying to lose weight. I should be getting ready for a baby to arrive."
(I had to stop 4 times while typing that last paragraph to just cry. I'm still crying.)
I know that this is irrational. Being fat will not bring my baby back. It will only make me unhealthy and tired all the time. I don't want to not do things with my kids just because I'm not strong enough any more. But this is how I feel, though I didn't know it until now.
Every time since that I have knelt at that bench the sobbing has overtaken me once more and I am overwhelmed. It's like praying about it opens a door that I have been holding shut until now. I have to believe that the crying is healing something. I have to believe that there is a way through to the other side of this pain.
But I have no idea what to do past that. I have no choice but to see it through.