It's Okay to put Yourself First

I've been contemplating on whether or not to write about this, but you know what - I'm not embarrassed nor am I ashamed of what I did, and I want my kids to be proud of their mother and if and when they are ever in my position, I want them to know that it is alright to put yourself first for once.

So here is my story about why I am sitting in my bed, propped up on pillows, watching Free On Demand TV shows and why I am not surrounded by my three misfits at 11 am on a Wednesday morning during Christmas vacation.

My kids are my biggest accomplishment - they are my heart and soul.  I wouldn't change them for anything...but they did change me in a horrible way.  Physically speaking, of course.  It was worth it - the weight gain, the stretch marks, the sagging skin, the deflated pancake boobs - all of the physical changes were worth it because I have three beautiful, independent, strong, intelligent children.

But they wrecked me.  Wrecked me bad.

I was 22 years old when Mike and I were married...and we fell into the comfortable stage of our marriage - the stage where we eat whatever we want, and slowly but surely pack on the pounds....more the love.  I was 23 when I became pregnant with William and I weighed in at close to 190 lbs.  I was so heavy that I would wear pantyhose under my slacks to work just to be able to zip them up.

I used the pregnancy as an open ticket to eat whatever I wanted to...and packed on another 35 lbs before he was born.

After William was born, I couldn't wear anything but maternity clothes.  I remember going to the store and refusing to buy women's jeans...the sizes were too much for me to accept.  So I walked out of there with a pair of men's 38 X 30 jeans.

Before I was pregnant, I was a nice C cup - a handful...not too much and not too little.  I had great cleavage...Mike called it my "baby's butt".  After having William, my breasts grew to a size E.  My milk came in and they were HUGE!  One morning I was standing in the bathroom after stepping out of the shower and Mike walked in and his mouth dropped - he had never seen anything that big before!  My gigantic boobs were literally 3 sizes larger than our newborn son's head.  I was so afraid I was going to smother him when I nursed him.

Time passed, and they regulated with his feeding schedule - inflate, deflate, inflate, deflate...

I had resigned myself to being an overweight new mom.  That was my identity.  That was who I was - a chubby new mom wearing size 38 men's pants.

When William was 3 months old, I went to a baby shower and saw a lady I used to work with who I remembered as being heavy.  She looked fabulous - healthy and skinny.  Her secret - Weight Watchers.

I asked my Mom to be my support and go with me to the Weight Watchers meetings - she didn't need to go, but I knew I couldn't do it on my own.  I started Weight Watchers in June and by November I had lost 45 lbs.  Really, I had lost the 35 lbs I gained from the pregnancy plus the 45lbs from being accountable in the meetings.

I felt proud of myself.  I learned how to eat.  I learned how to be successful.

When William was 18 months old, my brother and sister-in-law were married in Key West, Florida.  My Aunt Mel was there and she hadn't seen me in a while.  She couldn't believe how good I looked, but she wanted to know what happened to my boobs....me too.  They disappeared.

A few months later we were pregnant with Micah and, again, I used it as an open ticket to eat what I wanted.  The day I got the positive pregnancy test, I drove through Sonic and bought a chili cheese hot dog.  I figured that I could eat what I wanted and lose the weight again.  I gained 40 lbs with Micah.

A few weeks after she was born, I was dissolutioned into thinking that I would be able to go straight back into my pre-pregnancy jeans.  Wake up call!  That obviously did not happen.  I found myself shopping at a Lane Bryant store for the first time - buying one pair of jeans - and never wearing them.

I pulled out the Weight Watchers materials again and started walking.  We bought a bow-flex and I added weight training to my exercise regime.  Always the list maker, I had a calendar of when I worked out and what I did - and I kept it front in center so I would have to look at it...guilt me into doing something for myself.

When Micah was 18 months old, Mike and I decided that our family was complete.  We were 28 years old and had a boy and a girl.  I wanted my body back, because the same horrors that happened to me with William happened all over again with Micah - stretched out stomach skin, separated muscles, and empty boobs that I would have to fold up to put into a bra.

We made an appointment for his Vasectomy and I made an appointment with a few plastic surgeons. The dates were set for our procedures, and then we started getting testy with each other.  Picking at each other over silly things.  One night, I was walking Louie around our neighborhood and realized that I didn't want to make the decision about our family yet.  We were young.  What if we decided in a year or two that we wanted another child?  It would be too late.  I went home and told Mike that we should cancel our appointments.  He gladly agreed!

A few years later, we found ourselves in the same position - we felt like our family was complete.  Mike made his appointment again and I made my pre-op appointment again.  On the day of my pre-op appointment, as I stood there in front of the mirror in my underwear with Mike sitting in a chair in the corner of the office, I started to feel faint.  The doctor was taking my pre-op photographs and I started to see spots.  I fell face forward and fainted - in my underwear.

We left the office, and had a heart to heart.  I called to cancel the appointment the next week.

Then we decided that our family wasn't yet complete - enter Jude - and he tortured my body yet again. And again, I worked my butt off (literally) with two rounds of P90X and hours on the elliptical to get my healthy body back.  But no matter how hard I worked, by stomach still was flabby, my muscles were still stretched apart, and my boobs were empty sacks of skin.

When Jude was 6 months old, Mike had his Vasectomy...and a year later, I am sitting here almost a week after having my Mommy Make-over.  Good things come to those who wait.

I chose a different doctor this time and am loving the care I am getting.  I now have my size C cup back.  I now have a stomach that is as hard as a rock and no extra skin.  The surgery wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be - I tried to not think about it the weeks proceeding the surgery so I wouldn't worry, but I am so pleased with the results.  The hardest part is having to wear a girdle for about a month to keep the stomach swelling down, but I am so lucky to have had this opportunity to become myself again.

It seems strange to think I wasn't myself, but if you don't feel good about yourself, no matter what other's tell you about how you look, you still don't feel good.  Even with the scars that will heal into invisible lines, I feel good about myself - confident for the first time in a long time.

Mike loved me either way, but now I love me, too.

It brings tears to my eyes to write this because I do not like to ask for help.  I don't like to depend on others.  I don't like to give up control, and I have had to do that in order to take this journey.  Mike has had to work nights during this whole time, so my Mom has been my caretaker. She has slept with me every night.  She has gotten the kids ready for bed and ready in the mornings.  She has helped me with my dressings and tugged me into my girdle each day.  She brings me my medicine and makes me laugh.  She is a wonderful woman and I hope to grow up to be her one day.

I told her that I don't know how I can ever repay her, and she said that one day I will do the same for Micah and that is how I can repay her.

I won't be posting before and after pictures....just in case you were wondering....