I have tried to write this post several times, and I cannot seem to put into words the duality to my purpose and goals in life right now. Mostly because I’m not sure how I feel about them, as they are two goals quite at odds with each other. And then really, they are intertwined the way that real life always is.
Goal #!: Lose weight and get fit.
Goal #2: Get pregnant.
I have three young children right now. Birdie will be six in February, LaLa will turn four a week later, and Pearl just turned two last month. Three kids that keep me extended pretty much to my full reach. And yet there is one more. I have felt very strongly that there is one more child to come since before Pearl was born, and so in January of this year we went off of birth control.
I toyed with the idea of getting serious about losing weight before this last pregnancy, but I figured why bother? I don’t really have time to put this off, I will be thirty-nine this coming June. Why should I break my neck trying to lose weight when I’d just get pregs and pack it all back on again? I decided I’d wait and lose weight after this last baby.
But then I didn’t get pregnant. And then I got pnuemonia, and then the entire month of May happened. And then the summer came and went; still no pregnancy.
When I paid for my first ten weeks of Weight Watchers in September, I knew that I’d lose a pound or two and then put the rest of the weeks in hibernation because I’d be pregnant. But then I paid for the next ten weeks, and I was getting pretty excited because I’d lost enough weight that I wouldn’t necessarily cross the three hundred pound mark with this last pregnancy.
But I am still not pregnant.
Every cycle I am bitterly disappointed with the one blue line. But then I am also elated, because sisters… I am on a roll. But then I am deeply disappointed. And I don’t eat my feelings any more, so it hurts a little extra and it all is just that much more raw.
But then again, I am excited that I have at least another cycle to get that much stronger, weigh just that much less. And I hope with all my heart that for as old as I will be with this final baby, perhaps the pregnancy won’t be quite as horrendous because I will be fitter. I have to tell myself that, I ain’t getting younger.
Perhaps I can compensate for the dusty and decrepit state of my age as a mom, with some muscles and increased endurance? But then I wish I was just pregnant.