Vacation

I am having a great vacation. I have already spent 6 fantastic days with my family- immediate and extended and I have loved almost every minute of it! We had  mini family reunions on both of my parents sides of the family. All of my siblings and their children were here at the same time–and it wasn’t even for a wedding or holiday. We have spent days at the beach, lounging around and even some tubing with my brother’s boat. There have been a few nights that we ate out, but a few that we stayed in and had cookouts and bonfires. Today we floated down the river on inflatable rafts for 2 1/2 hours! Lots of pink cheeks and bodies, but so much fun. What a relaxing time it has been.  Relaxing and exhausting all at the same time! But I have tan lines–and that is saying a lot for this Irish skin I have. I usually kid about having two shades of skin, albino and lobster, but today I have tan lines! Who would’ve thought I’d have to go 1000 miles NORTH where it has been a very cold summer to get the tan I should have 9 months of the year at minimum at my home in the South?! Oh well, at least I have lines, even if it is the end of July and they are just starting to show. I have two more days here with my family before we head out to visit my husband’s relatives for a few days on the way home. I am looking forward to spending time with my grandma, visiting the lighthouse my youngest so desperately wants to see, and spending those last few precious moments with my family that I miss so much when I’m home in the south. I hope they all know just how much I love each one of them.

…and NOT believing

So, now that I am finally believing in myself again, maybe we should spend some time talking about why I stopped believing in myself.  One might think that it was before I became pregnant with my oldest at 16. But that’s not the case. Strangely enough, it was a while after her birth. But finding out I was pregnant was what actually inspired me to be a better person. Not that I wasn’t a good person before that, but I just wanted to be the best I could be for my child. I was only a sophomore in high school the night I took the home test. It was prom night. On the way home we stopped at a park so I could take the test, and waited in silence and darkness for an agonizing 3 minutes. When we flipped the light on to check the test, I think I stopped breathing for a minute. I couldn’t be pregnant. My parents would be so disappointed. And I was only 16. Barely 16. And I had a life planned for myself. But deep down I already loved that little baby growing inside of me. And I already knew that it had changed my life forever. But not for one second did I think that my life was screwed up, or that I would never amount to anything because of this bump in the road I had created. No, I just knew I would have to work harder than I was. Finishing school was a no-brainer. I had  a baby to provide for now and I needed to give that child the best I could. I could’ve gone to the special classes for pregnant teens and teen moms, but when I went to look into that, I was surprised to see that curriculum would’ve been nearly the equivalent of what I had taken in 7th and 8th grade. Not really what a girl in Advanced Placement and Honors classes wants to go back to. So I opted to stay in my high school, and deal with the looks, comments and judgements of others. I believed I could finish high school with a respectable GPA regardless of my situation. My parents and I met with my guidance counselor and my teachers for my junior year and discussed that I would be missing some classes but that I didn’t want any special treatment or sympathy. I wanted my grades to reflect my work, not my “situation.”  I had my daughter in December and missed 4 weeks of school surrounding her birth. But I picked work up from my teachers and stayed as caught up as I could, still believing in myself. Even when my daughter was born with a birth defect, and the doctors swooped her away immediately after she was born without telling me what was happening, I knew I could handle whatever it was. When the nurse finally explained the situation to me, my only question was “Is it correctable?’ When she said yes,I knew it would all be ok. When her father and I parted ways when she was 3 months old, I believed I was making the best choice. It was. I graduated high school in the top 10% of my class of nearly 900, all while raising a baby who was now 18 months old. All because I believed in myself. But that was all about to change. I got caught up with the wrong guy and found myself in a very bad predicament. Details of that aren’t necessary, but as a result of my poor choices, I found myself pregnant again, single again, and raising a toddler at 18. Now here is where I really started to question what I was doing with my life. Who had I become? When did I stop loving myself? And what kind of a role model was I to my daughter and the little one on the way? It was hard enough with one baby, how could I handle two and still go to college and make a life for myself and my babies?  Should I keep this second baby? And then the hardest of all….should I even have this baby? Of course I should! I don’t believe in abortion. But no matter what I tried to tell myself, I didn’t believe that I could tell my parents and the rest of my family. I didn’t believe I could raise two babies. I didn’t believe that my family would support me again like they had when I had my daughter. I felt so lost and confused and detached from everything. I was dying inside because of my own stupid, selfish choices, and now I was faced with one of the biggest decisions in my life. Although I didn’t want to do it, I felt there was no other option at that time. I told my parents, and got completely different reactions for both of them. Regardless, an appointment was made at a clinic to terminate my pregnancy. I felt empty. I couldn’t believe that I was actually going through with it. But I went to my appointment. Sat in the dingy, musty waiting area for what seemed like an eternity. I debated leaving, as I sat there silently crying, in complete denial. I kept asking myself, “What are you doing? You don’t even believe in this?!” But I would tell myself over and over, “This is the best thing for this baby. I can’t give it what it needs. I can’t give my daughter what she needs and deserves if I have this baby. No matter how much I love this baby, this is the right thing to do. ” But I didn’t believe that. It was a cop-out. And I knew it. My baby deserved better than what I was about to do to it. And I just sat there crying. Finally, my name was called and they took me to an exam room where they would do an ultrasound to check how far along I was. I turned my head so I wouldn’t be able to see the screen, knowing that I would lose it emotionally if I saw the baby inside of me. But when the tech and the nurse started talking about it, I couldn’t help myself and I peeked at the screen. I saw my baby, kicking it’s little legs , but what got me was seeing it’s tiny heart beating. I took that emotional punch right in the gut. I shed a few silent tears barely managing to keep the wails of emotion inside. The nurse then took me to speak to the psychologist, which was required to have an abortion. Her first question to me was, “Why are you here?” and all I could manage was ” I don’t know!” through an awful lot of sobbing. When I managed to pull myself together, I explained to her about my faith and that I feel abortion is wrong. So I wasn’t quite sure why I was there other than that I felt like I had so massively screwed up that I had no other option. And the words I had been holding inside so I wouldn’t have to deal with them came spilling out and I told her how much I loved my baby already and that I wanted to keep it. I was just so scared and lost. And then I went home, with my baby still growing inside and completely unaware of what had almost happened that day. I went home knowing that I had made the right decision, knowing my baby would have a good life with its mommy, who was already completely in love with it. Home, where I was safe, where my daughter was safe, where my baby was safe.

February 1998

Take Two

So I had managed to maintain my new weight for a while. And then what did I do? I got pregnant a second time at 18! I was determined not to gain another 70 lbs. I was working full-time as a hotel housekeeper, and it was a very physical job. I spent 7-8 hours each day on my feet making beds, washing windows, vacuuming and scrubbing bathrooms. I didn’t always eat a healthy lunch, but I was very surprised that I was gaining weight as I had in my first pregnancy. Ugh, another 70 lbs.! Puffy skin, swollen feet- very uncomfortable. I was able to move around a lot easier this time around though, and worked up until a week before my son was born. By that time, I was very much looking forward to the relief I had felt after my daughter’s birth. The birth of my son was fairly easy and I was hoping to lose the weight quickly. I didn’t. I had gone up 2-3 sizes from where I was AFTER my first pregnancy. So now I was 5 sizes bigger than before I had first gotten pregnant. I felt awful. And I looked awful. And the athlete I had once been felt completely dead.

Ok, so today the athlete inside showed up when I needed her, so I know shes not dead. I made it to the gym. Yes, I procrastinated this morning. I told myself I was going to get up and go right away, but I didn’t get there until after lunch. But I did get there. And I got a great workout in on the elliptical. I wanted to give up after 5 minutes. I was out of breath, since it was first trip to the gym in over 3 months. I was going 5 days a week up until then, but I got sick with a terrible bronchitis that left me with no energy for 11 weeks. When I got over that, I took the kids to the pool and ended up with double ear infections and could hardly hear for 3 weeks. So now I am finally feeling great again…but today was tough at the gym. As much as I wanted to quit, I dug deep to find strength to keep going and my inner athlete pushed me to keep moving. And what a great feeling to have my former trainer see me and say how nice it was to see me there! Just a bit more motivation to keep going. Slowly but surely I will achieve my goals. I have a lot of weight to lose…and my whole life to gain during this journey.

Revelation

I was a very active child. I walked at 9 months and never looked back. I was a runner, a swimmer, a gymnast, a dancer. I played basketball, baseball and football with my brothers and the neighborhood boys. I was a sprinter, setting school records as early as elementary school, and was even a member of a relay team in 7th grade that set a state record. I loved being active. I was an athlete. A competitor. I loved a challenge. But a variety of factors led to my decision to put my athletic side on hold. Repeated ankle sprains caused my doctor to recommend a halt on my running. My parents deteriorating marriage led to increased responsibilities for me at home. The inevitable boy-craziness of a young teenage girl also played a part, but the biggest reason my competitive side had to pause was my first pregnancy. I was only 16. And I was scared. And quickly gaining a belly- and a lot of extra weight. Throughout my pregnancy I gained 70 lbs! That is far more than the doctor recommended 25-30 lbs for an average weight woman. My body retained so much fluid! What a relief it was to finally give birth to my daughter- to ease the strain on my body- to reduce my weight. I actually left the hospital 48 hours after her birth 40 lbs lighter than when I has walked in the door to deliver her! Talk about a quick way to lose weight! but it was torture trying to lose the remaining 30lbs. I ate salads for lunch and dinner. I did 1 or 2 hours of cardio each day and it still took me almost a year to lose 20 lbs. And I was still 1 or 2 sizes bigger than before I had gotten pregnant. So frustrating!

Today I had the realization that I had once set and achieved goals so easily, but I rarely set any goals anymore. I haven’t for a long time. I realized that I gave up on my own dreams a long time ago. Partly due to circumstances I couldn’t change, but mainly because of choices I had made. I had stopped believing in myself, stopped believing that I could achieve my dreams and had stopped dreaming. But that is all changing now. I believe in myself again. And I am ready to begin dreaming again. Ready to reclaim my life. Ready to let my inner athlete run free! So I got out my weights, resistance bands and fitness magazines and pumped out 40 minutes of strength training, followed by a 40 minute, 3 mile walk…with a bit of jogging thrown in. So now I map out a plan for my journey to regain myself…my health, my life.