I am seriously bummed about this. I think I mentioned in a previous post, or posts, about my weight gain and loss during the pregnancy. It fluctuates every week. I'll gain a pound or so, then lose 3 by the next time. Same scale, etc. Well, the last time, I had lost 5, finally putting me below my pre-pregnancy weight. Or at least below the weight I was when I first went to my OB at 8 weeks of pregnancy. I've never gotten caught up in weight, but instead worry about my measurements. I've always been a sturdy build. I've got huge muscles in places most women do not from years of competitive swimming, so if I went by "ideal weight" for my height, I would always be very depressed.
None of the people in my little healthcare mafia are concerned with this. The baby is growing by leaps and bounds, so who cares? That tells us he is getting enough nutrition. And I am not actively trying to lose weight. Well, at least not until after the delivery. I just haven't been able to eat between the big baby taking up space in my abdominal cavity, the heartburn and indigestion of the last trimester, all of the contractions, and more. No biggie. But I must admit that I was a little excited. If I am below my pre-pregnancy weight now, then by the time I deliver a 7-pound baby, along with placenta, and all of the extra fluid, I will leave the hospital with a healthy start on my weight loss goals for after the pregnancy. Plus nursing will help me lose even more, as will my return to work. Sweet.
Not anymore. Over the past couple of days, I have been ravenously hungry. And I have this weird attraction to Arby's roast beef sandwiches. They must have swiss cheese added, of course, because they couldn't possibly have been fattening enough on their own. And soft serve ice cream. That too. The ice cream is more difficult for J to satisfy. It has to be soft serve vanilla in a cone, so he has been trying to navigate traffic while holding this enormous ice cream cone, without taking a single lick because of his new-found status as a diabetic. I don't know where this has come from. I should be past the cravings stage. But J does his best to provide what I want. This, of course, is despite the fact that I have turned into a sort of culinary Sybil. Yesterday, I told him to bring home food from some random errand he was running. He went and got me a sub. But he got me the slim-pickings, healthy crap I would have eaten before this stage. And I was so looking forward to my fat fest that my heart fell when I saw what he had brought. And I couldn't eat it. It just didn't taste good to me. Poor J.
This all reminds me of the first trimester. J was so sweet. I was still working. And I would go in at about 6 PM because I was almost always charge/ team leader, and would have to make work assignments for all of the other therapists that night, as well as deal with staffing for my shift and the one immediately after mine. First rounds would always be busy,but right around the time they would be over, I would be starving. We have a fairly decent cafeteria at work, as far as hospital cafeterias go. But it closes at 8 PM, then reopens at 2 AM for third-shifters like me. So at 10:30 or 11, when done with my rounds, they would be closed. Without fail, J would wait for my phone call telling him what I wanted from any of the area restaurants that were open. And at 11 PM, he would be out bringing me food. Often, he would even take orders for all of the other therapists stuck there in the overnight time-warp with me. Of course by that time of night, he would have to come in through the security night entrance, and I would always be too busy to wait for him, so he had to constantly give them my name and tell them to beep my pager. As a result,the security staff at the hospital began to tease us, and even got to the point where they knew he would be bringing food and would make their own requests. So the end result is that J ran his own little Meals on Wheels operation for night hospital staff. Priceless. What a guy!
So anyway, my new little love affair with food is going to ruin my goals and I am bummed. Not bummed enough where I am going to do anything about it, though. I figure these last couple of weeks are the last where I can eat what I want and not feel bad about it. After all, I will never be pregnant again. But if I go into the doctor on Tuesday and have gained it all back, I know what is to blame.
The fact that you are eating a lot is a good sign. Does that mean the contractions have calmed down a bit?
ReplyDeleteI had a weird experience at the doctor's. I was weighed one week in one office and 3 days later weighed again in another office. I had gained 6 pounds. I asked if it was more possible that one of their scales were off because it doesn't seem possible for someone, especially someone as skinny as me, to gain 6 pounds in 3 days.
Yeah they have. I only had 15 yesterday! Woohooo!
ReplyDelete6 in three????? That is astounding!