The pregnancy weight gain (and loss)

*3 weeks post partum*
Today I wore a pair of jeans from before. Before I had a baby. Before I was pregnant.

It took 9 months to grow a human and 3 weeks to shrink it. I kept my jeans on for one outing of a little over an hour and then came home to change back into fat pants (also known as joggers in the fashion world). The jeans fit. They just weren’t very comfortable. But we take our wins where we get them.

*7 weeks post partum*
Because as it goes, with a newborn and with Instagram scrolling, I’m finishing this blog post 7 weeks post partum. And 4 weeks on since I started it. Its not that I battled to find the words to explain myself, but rather… well, Instagram.

Unfortunately that miraculous shrinking that took place after 3 weeks stopped there. 12,5kgs up – I’m 8,5kgs down with a stubborn 4 to go. And by stubborn I mean, thank God I’m not another 9kgs up as I have definitely left my eating well habit back in September 2015.

Everyone (most people) know I have a small obsession with weight. No one else’s, just my own. I weigh myself every day. Twice a day actually (close your mouth). I suppose its an obsession with the scale really. Yep, I don’t even step on the scale after a shower as wet hair weighs more than dry hair. A theory I have never actually proven but it makes sense no? This doesn’t mean I have an eating disorder. Quite the contrary really. I have no self discipline to have an eating disorder and I like food (all the food, the bad food) too much. I just like to know what I weigh. Every day. Twice a day.

I weighed myself every day during my pregnancy. And I watched, with great trepidation, as I approached and exceeded numbers that I had ever been before nor imagined I’d ever be. Yes past that dreaded first year syndrome weight, and into the next ten of kgs. Luckily, and I really mean luckily as I wasn’t exactly careful, it stopped there and didn’t reach into another ten. It was frightening seeing those figures on the scale. But not frightening enough to stop eating scones for lunch. Woolies take my money – just take it.

I didn’t gym during my pregnancy. Well, I did. I sat on the exercise bike in trimester 2. Trimester one was rough, emotionally and physically, and by trimester 3 I was just feeling enormous and uncomfortable. I yoga’d, but lets be honest that was just a peaceful hour of stretching more than a workout. I’ve never really understood Savasana (I’m not a real yogi) but when you’re pregnant. Its a great cuddle with a pillow on the floor while noone judges.

Being a new mom is difficult, for so many reasons we’ve all read and heard about – sleep deprivation, incessant crying, 3 hour cycles of Groundhog Day. But no one talks about, or takes as seriously as me clearly, is what the hell to eat!

So you finally give birth and yay! You can eat sushi and drink ALL THE WINE. Except you can’t. Well you can on the sushi and possibly you could on the wine too, but you don’t because that’s stupid with the incessant crying and the sleep deprivation.

What no one tells you is all the things you can’t eat. Chocolate, tomatoes, dairy (DAIRY? I mean, dairy!!), coffee (coffee? Yes. I haven’t had a cup of caffeine in 6 weeks + 4 days. If I’d known life after pregnancy would be this, the morning of my labour I would’ve had a coffee instead of a hot chocolate. What was I thinking? Oh wait, I was in labour and I probably had some ill logic that chocolate would make me feel better). I didn’t even finish it.

So between feeding, burping, changing, and instagram stalking, there are little functioning hours in the day to eat. Or to eat real food. So there are rusks. And there are biscuits. And there are handfuls of milo cereal (no milk. That dairy thing. Clearly I ignored the chocolate thing). And after your mom visits, there is also millionaire shortbread (she makes the best kind!) Before you know it it’s 3pm and you’re only changing out of your PJs to prove to your husband who’ll be home in 3 hours that you did. Lunch? Agg I’ll just have another rusk then.

I’ve lived on jungle juice (juice that’s packed with sugar and rehydrate that really just keeps a new mom ticking over and functioning because she hasn’t seen caffeine in weeks!) and biscuits for the past 40 days.

While I certainly wasn’t careful on my pregnancy weight gain up, I’ve been disgustingly bad on the way down. But now shit is real. I still fit into those pre-baby jeans…but I wobble. My boobs are remarkably large (I scoff in the face of my pregnant self, as she has nothing on my new mom self!) and I haven’t swiped my card at the gym since about March. Yes I know I had my baby 3 months later in June, but some people are better at that exercising shit than others. I am an other.

I have no idea how to successfully shed the extra kilos and convince my body it prefers muscles that work to rusks. And I have little idea how I’m going to possibly consider eating meals at lunch time. I even miss the chicken salad poison that I could get at the office canteen. Poison it was but at least it was ready to eat.

The scale may drop in kilos but let’s be honest, thin skin has nothing on toned skin. Which isn’t a saying like brown fat looks better than white fat (which it does and I really can’t wait for summer so that I can bask in the sun and at least bronze up this postpartum belly that remained untanned during the summer of 2015 thanks to baby human growing inside that was light sensitive – according to google.)

So I may be bronzed in 6 months time, but that isn’t really a plan to post-partum myself to health (yes I know post-partum isn’t a verb). I’ve pondered this a while (as its now 9 weeks since our baby human joined us) and my natural inclination would be to juice detox and then hit up Kayla’s workout. But according to doc I still have a few weeks to go before I do any core training (something about muscles weaving back together) and I can’t imagine functioning with a newborn on a juice detox. I recall the struggle well. I think it’d be easier to drink ALL THE WINE instead.

So, for now I’ll have another rusk with a cup of tea (only made to dunk the rusk into. Its rooibos and its black) and look at pictures of my former self in my former life, with smaller boobs (hips and waist) and get back to you once I have a plan.

 

 

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