I gained a lot of weight my first time around the pregnancy block. I have been an admittedly very lucky gal who has not had to “worry” about my weight. Sure, as I hit my 30s, it’s been redistributing in softer ways than in my 20s, but in the grand scheme of things, I realize I have nothing to complain about.
But when you get pregnant and it’s suddenly expected of you to gain, gain, gain…why not have that bowl of ice cream? Every night? And sometimes in the afternoon? With a brownie? Cheers!
So I was admittedly a little shocked during my first pregnancy that the day the nurse had to move the big block on the scale, I was bothered by it. Briefly. But bothered. By the time I hit 40lbs near the end, I stopped looking at the scale. I would literally get on backwards — “Think of it as your IQ” sign on the scale be damned. Overall, this strategy worked for me and I honestly didn’t really care about the number…as long as I and the baby were healthy and happy, what difference did it really make except a few post-partum pants sizes?
This time, going in, I wanted to have a similar laissez-faire attitude toward the scale. I wasn’t going to worry about it. I mean, you’re growing a whole baby in your gut, the scale is going to move. And I’m working out this pregnancy, which was not something that I did at all during pregnancy one. Unless you count checking the mail. A lot of my friends going through their second pregnancies who have also been working out, were talking about only having gained about 10 pounds by the time they were 6 months along. I should have nothing to worry about. Right?
So imagine my surprise when the peanut pulled out our scale this weekend and made us all stand on it and, if it’s accurate, I’ve gained about 20lbs so far (officially started month seven today). WHAT? And why does it bother me so much? I really do feel like I’m more physically fit this pregnancy, the rings are still fitting (that’s a good sign, right?), and I’ve been craving much healthier foods this go-round.
I suppose this weight fascination of mine might have something to do with the fact that at my last visit, my nurse midwife came in perusing my chart and said “I wouldn’t worry too much about this amount of weight gain. It’s typical to put on the most about this time.” Great. I honestly hadn’t thought about it at all until she mentioned it. It felt like the equivalent of the “Are you okay? You look tired,” and we all know what that means.
When I go back in two weeks, I’m determined not to let that number scare me. I’m trying not to compare my belly to those of the two other mommies in my workout group due within a few days of myself and embrace it. After all, I lost the weight the first time around, I can do it again. And maybe this is just how my body does pregnancy.
Whatever it is, I’m having to talk myself into not paying attention to the scale again. Of course it hasn’t stopped me from my nightly bowl of ice cream, so I suppose it can’t be bothering me too much.
Speaking of ice cream…