Losing the Baby Weight

When does my excuse expire?  The excuse that I am still carrying a bit of baby weight?  Surely not too much longer, now that my baby is almost a year old.

Ugh.  I had been living by the mantra 9 months on, 9 months off.  But that window has slammed shut.  And I’m still not at my goal.

I don’t know why not.  I gained 36 pounds during pregnancy, 4 pounds less than what my doctor recommended (yes, I too had read that 25-35 pounds was the goal, yet my doctor said I should aim for 40).  I exercised throughout my pregnancy.  And although I did eat more loosely than normal (in terms of giving into cravings that I would normally resist), I by no means was eating for two.

The day after delivery, I was down 12 pounds.  By the time I left the hospital, I was down 19 pounds.  By the end of the week, I was down a total of 22 pounds.  It was melting off!

And I had five months of leave scheduled.  Five months!  At this rate, I reasoned, I could lose less than a pound a week.  Or, even better, go back to work in better shape than pre-pregnancy!  Everyone was commenting on how good I looked.  How thin.  As if I’d never had a baby.

And I admit I was smug.  This was all so easy.  I wasn’t even healed yet, but I was already getting back to my pre-pregnancy size.  Already I could fit into pre-pregnancy jeans.  And this was before I even started working out again.  It was really going to start flying off then!

And then – I plateaued.  With 6 pounds left to go.

No worries.  It’s only 6 pounds.  I still have months before going back to work!

And still – nothing.

Hmmm… Must be because of my age.  Okay now it’s time to kick it into gear.  Amped up workouts – check (at 4:30am, no less).  Calorie tracking app on iPhone – check.  Limited junk food – check.

And yet – nothing.

The 9 months on, 9 months off mantra kicks in.  Keep up the workouts.  Watch the diet.  Limit the alcohol.  Carry around a wriggly new 20 pound weight that is attached to my hip.

But my 9 months is up!  Now what??

Granted, I get that 6 pounds (hovering between 5 and 7) is a mere drop in the bucket.  A lot of people would be happy with that.  I’m sure Jessica Simpson would take it.  Not a huge deal.

But it IS.  To ME.  I want to fit into my clothes without them feeling tight.  I want to put away the “bloated day” jeans that have now become my primary jeans.  I want to be able to wear a fitted t-shirt again!

And maybe it’s not even the weight.  Maybe it’s just that my body has changed.  Your hips are wider now, says my none-too-sensitive husband, one morning out of the blue.  As if he is saying something like I think I’ll wash the car today.  

Me, in my hormonal state:  Do you think I’m fat now?  (I can’t even believe I asked that, as I typically don’t like to think of myself as THAT person)

Hubby:  I like your body shape better now (Notice the evasion of the original questions).

So I’ve talked to my other mommy friends.  It’s true, they say, your body will never be the same again.  And maybe they’re right.  Everything else, outside of the extra layer around my mid-section, seems to have settled back into place.  Maybe that extra layer will never go away.

Sigh.  I’m just not ready to give in to it.

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