Reality and a really long post.

I finally wasn't sick. I could taste food without running to throw up. I could make it through the day without 3 Zofran to help keep things down.

So I did what I hadn't been able to do for the first 3 months of my pregnancy. I ate. And ate. And ate.

At my 16 week appointment, I had gained 12 pounds since the previous time.

I wasn't too worried. I had gained nothing the first 12 weeks, so I would just reign it in, and do better the next time.

Well, that's not exactly what happened. Over the remaining 21 weeks of my pregnancy, I gained 53 more pounds.

Yup. I gained 65 pound total, and Anne Marie was only 8 of that when she was born.

And although 30 of it came off within the first week post part um, I was left weighing 204 pounds. The most ever.

I was devastated. I couldn't believe it.

So I began to work. And work hard.

By the time Anne Marie was 18 months old, and at age 31, I had lost 46 pounds.

At 5 foot 8, I was 158 pounds. I ran 35 miles a week, lifted weights a couple of times a week, and was just very fit.

So I figured that the weight gain was in my control for the next baby. Which is was, sort of.

When I got pregnant with Henry, I wasn't as sick. So I gained a normal 5 pounds the first trimester. Not too bad.

I continued to take classes at the gym, and walked about 8 miles a week. I watched my calories very carefully and basically worked my butt off.

I still gained 42 pounds. And this time, just 20 came off, not the 30 that evaporated with Anne Marie.

So even after all the hard work, the relentless carefulness, I still weighed not much less than I had with Anne Marie.

I was so disheartened. But I learned a great lesson about my body and pregnancy. Within reason (with Anne Marie I pretty much ate to my heart's content) my body hovered around a 45 pound weight gain with each child. No matter what.

But I figured after Henry, I was done having babies so I could focus on health and losing weight, even if it was slow. There was no need to be in a rush since I wasn't getting pregnant again, right? Wrong.

I had lost about 13 pounds. I was feeling great, clothes were starting to fit again and then WHAM! I was pregnant. It wasn't totally unexpected. I had been feeling that there was another baby waiting to come. But still. I was scared. I was starting out heavier then I had ever been when getting pregnant. What would happen?

I started out super sick again. Not needing medication sick, this time, but sick. But I gained 5 pounds the first trimester, anyway. Knowing that moderation was key, and that I would gain about the same no matter what, I didn't stress too much.

Until one appointment with my OB. Since I had started out heavier than normal (184 pounds to be exact) she only wanted me to gain 15 pounds. I just looked at her. At least I was polite enough to not laugh in her face.

Here I was with baby number 6 on the way. I had gained at least 40 pounds with every single child. No exception. I wasn't confident that it would be any different this time.

And it wasn't.

I started to stress, to be really sad about the weight that was coming on. I could feel it in my face, my legs, my arms, everywhere. And I knew that I would be lucky to keep the weight gain at 40 pounds. That 15 was completely and totally unreachable.

When I get pregnant, it's like my body decides this is the one and only time in my life that it can really gain weight or something. So it clings to every morsel that passes my lips. It's annoying.

I would do it all again though. I wouldn't trade one single child just to be skinny. It is just my reality to have a lot of weight to lose after each baby.

And Heavenly Father is aware of the stress that this causes me, I'm sure. In fact, I know that I was blessed with a dream about it ahead of time, so that I could be prepared mentally for what was to come.

About 2 months before Nora was born, I dreamt that I had the baby, and when I stepped on the scale a week later, I weighed 210 pounds. An all time high. And guess what? That is EXACTLY what happened.

And I wasn't as upset as I would have been otherwise. I had been given a head's up, and I was prepared for what I saw.

But it was still the most I had ever weighed in my entire life. So I did what I had always done, I buckled down and got to work. And I felt optimistic I could do it. Combine the weight loss here and there over my lifetime, plus the weight lost after the previous births of 5 children, and I had lost about 200 pounds in my lifetime. So this should be a cinch?

By the end of September I had lost 10 pounds. Nora was nursing well, I was exercising and things felt great. Then 2 things happened. First, I got kidney stones. And during the day I spent away from Nora at the doctor, I got very engorged and ended up getting a breast infection. My first ever.

I was in pain. I couldn't exercise, and I gained some water weight from the medication the infection, etc.

So when I got back on the scale a week later, and saw that I was back up 5 pounds. I think I lost it mentally.

Even though all of my experience with weight loss had taught me that it was impossible to gain 5 pounds like that, that it was for sure water weight, I just sort of gave up.

I decided that things were working against me and that I would just be heavy.

That feeling and attitude lasted for a very long time. I would lose 5 pounds here and there, try to throw exercise in. Gain some, lose some. Gain some, lose some. But the frustration, mixed with some major financial difficulties (cut in pay, behind in bills, that sort of thing) had me consistently turning to food for comfort, and in the process I lost no weight and consistently hovered around 205 pounds.

Then, this last November, I got inspired to do something. So I joined weight watchers. I loved it. It felt simple and do-able. Through the Holidays, I lost 10 pounds. I was so excited. I saw myself dip below 200 for the first time in 2 years. I started running again. I felt great. And then it happened. Life sabotaged me again.

I began running with two friends to train for a half marathon. On our first night running together, it had been raining and it was dark. Stepping off the sidewalk to join them on the street, I stepped onto a grate that was wet from the rain and sprained my foot. Sprained it bad.

I walked it off that evening, thinking it would be ok, but it wasn't. And while I hadn't broken it, the Doc told me I had pulled the ligaments in the top of my foot. He said if I rested I should be back to running and training in a couple weeks.

Well, it wasn't just a couple of weeks. And every week that went by without being able to exercise, I got more and more depressed.

I could do nothing. Any amount of pressure other than a slow gate while wearing my foot brace and limping, hurt too much. I couldn't exercise.

All I could think was "Really?!" Why now?

I don't know why. I just know that I stopped being vigilant. I ate more than I should in my fits of depression. And without exercise for 2 months, I gained back the 10 pounds I had lost.

So now I'm at the beginning again. My "baby" is 20 months old. I weigh almost the same as when she was born.

But I am ready. I take full responsibility for every morsel that went into my mouth. I acknowledge that I could have done many things differently. But I let the number on the scale discourage me into not trying. I let missteps along the way keep me from my accomplishments. I convinced myself that things were out of my control, and that happiness would only lie in being thin again.

So I spent a lot of time unhappy.

And I'm sick of feeling that way. I'm sick of finding comparisons everywhere I look and not measuring up. That is not what Heavenly Father had in mind for us. That is not how He looks at us.

So this blog is my road to recovery. To finding health, but allowing happiness in no matter what the scale says.

So, are you ready for truth. Are you ready for this journey?

Just promise me, don't think, "Shoot, I weigh more than her, or woo hoo, at least I weigh less". This is not about comparisons. Knowing our weight keeps us on track, it is not to be a comparison between ourselves and others.

Here we go.

Today. April 6, 2010.

Weight: 204 pounds
Waist :36 inches
hips:45 inches
arms:14 1/2 inches
thighs: 25 inches
bust:42 inches

I will list my weight every week and measurements once a month. My goal is 4 pounds a month. A modest goal on purpose. I am trying to succeed, not set myself up for failure.

So in between weigh ins, I will discuss my struggles with food. My battles against the Monster, and the successes along the way.

I will introduce you to other people in my life who have their own perspectives on this subject and hopefully you will get to know all of us and feel comfortable sharing your own stories.

In fact, if you have a story you want to share, and it's longer than a regular comment will allow, please email me, I would LOVE to hear from you.

I will also tell you about training. I am running 3 races this summer. 2 relays and a half marathon. I will do it whether I'm 200 pounds or not. That will not stop me. My foot is better, and I'm on my way. My success will be measured in ways other than just the loss of weight.

It's all about healing, finding joy that comes from life off the scale. And I'm so excited you're here for the ride.