Early on in this pregnancy, I pretty dutifully ate breakfast every morning. I did it on the defensive - many people say eating first thing helps fend off morning sickness. So I ate breakfast. Every day. (In my previous life, I only ate breakfast on select Saturdays, no earlier than 11am, or whenever I had opportunity to go out for brunch.) I'm pretty sure that my lack of morning sickness had nothing to do with breakfast and everything to do with VERY GOOD LUCK.
Anyway, my interest in eating breakfast as since waned. My interest in drinking morning coffee (albeit decaf or half-caf) has skyrocketed. Back to my old habits, it seems.
These last two days, I haven't eaten breakfast. And then, sometime around 10 or 10:30, while I'm sitting in my office, trying to be productive, I've felt myself crash. Not physically so much. But emotionally. Like...intense bouts of nostaliga. And self-doubt. And wishing to be anywhere but working, which is ridiculous, because I really do love what I do and where I am. But at about 10:30 each morning, I've had to actually talk myself into remembering that I love what I do and where I am. Because I'd much rather be sleeping. Or knitting.
Both mornings, I've used this opportunity to shove down a granola bar. I suspect that my weird mid-morning slump is really just hunger/low blood sugar. I'll have to work on eating breakfast more regularly again, I think.
Ok...but here's my weird weirdness of the current moment. Because I'm outgrowing most of my regular clothes - at an alarming rate! - I'm definitely feeling not the best about myself and my body. I know that you are supposed to gain weight. That you NEED to gain weight. And so far, it appears that my weight gain has chosen to appear only in my boobs and belly (especially the boobs...), and a little on my hips.
Last summer, I started on a big health kick. I changed some eating patterns and I exercised far more regularly. Throughout last summer and fall, I know that I lost a little weight. But the bigger thing is that I just felt REALLY GOOD. I felt strong. And healthy. And when you're eating well and exercising well, you start giving yourself way more grace, and your body image goes through the roof even if there's not a lot of observable difference.
So now, a year later, it's a strange mental shift to have to accept - and encourage! - your own weight gain. Last year, more clothes were fitting me, and they were fitting me better. This summer, I'm starting to outgrow my clothes. Last summer, I would go running or do strength training three and four times a week. This summer, I'm trying to keep up with my changing body, and some days walking is the best I can do, and I can still manage the occasional run, but not for much longer, and I'm trying to do a little yoga, but I'm also tired and clumsy and a worrier, so I'm just not so active right now. Last summer, I did not have to deal with giant pregnancy boobs that not only hurt your chances of fitting into old clothes, but that make you ridiculously self-conscious.
And since there are always a thousand things you could be worrying about when you're pregnant, you start having these strange moments of worrying that you might be gaining too much weight, or gaining it too fast. And then, when you think about how slow you were to gain weight at first, you start worrying that you've inadvertently overcompensated by overeating...and eating lots of junk...and so you worry that have swung the other direction and are now gaining too much. And THEN, when you have an ultrasound at 20 weeks and 2 days, and you find out that your baby is measuring 15oz, which means that he/she is measuring about five days ahead, you can really really give yourself a complex.
All of this is to say that I have no idea how much weight I've gained since my last doctor's appointment. And no idea how much weight I should gain. And really, no conception of what a good amount of weight to gain is for me and my body type, and it's all very silly, because I don't actually look pudgy or overweight, I just look pregnant.
Anyway. These weird weird weird thoughts make one oddly reluctant to commit to eating more food in the morning.
So. I need a plan.
Breakfast. That's a good start. And healthy stuff. Yogurt. Or fruit. Or even cereal. NOT sugary granola bars. And walking to church as much as possible. Because it's a short walk, but any walk is better than no walk. And better lunches. Protein and veggies and all that good stuff. And less late-afternoon snacking. Because, really, I'm eating because I'm bored, tired, and thirsty when I get home from church. Water. And naps. Much better options. And healthier dinners. Or at least trying not go back for thirds on everything! And then...I'm definitely keeping my pre-bed bowl of ice cream. Because some things are simply non-negotiable.
I am usually a pretty well-adjusted person when it comes to weight and body image. I'm pretty sure that in life, I've complained or felt self-conscious as much as your average person, but it's never been a THING for me. I've always been reasonably active, especially in the last few years, and I rarely worry or get hung up about my eating habits. I love food and cooking. I love eating. It's all good.
And I am so unbelievably excited and grateful to be pregnant, and in the grand scheme of things, all of this body stuff DOES NOT MATTER, and I know it. And I feel sort of like a louse for complaining at all, because I know what it's like to be on the watching and waiting side of things, where I was willing to put up with ANYTHING, as long as I could get a baby into my arms. Mostly, I am incredibly surprised that I'm feeling weird and bothered by any of this. It's not my usual style.
I think - I truly do - that I am mostly just worried about wanting things to be good for little hedgehog. Too much weight isn't good. Too little weight isn't good. I don't know what the target is right now. Also, it's dealing with all of this for the first time, learning how my body reacts to pregnancy, learning about my own body's specific ways of shifting and changing, which is just going to be new for everybody.
Anyway, my interest in eating breakfast as since waned. My interest in drinking morning coffee (albeit decaf or half-caf) has skyrocketed. Back to my old habits, it seems.
These last two days, I haven't eaten breakfast. And then, sometime around 10 or 10:30, while I'm sitting in my office, trying to be productive, I've felt myself crash. Not physically so much. But emotionally. Like...intense bouts of nostaliga. And self-doubt. And wishing to be anywhere but working, which is ridiculous, because I really do love what I do and where I am. But at about 10:30 each morning, I've had to actually talk myself into remembering that I love what I do and where I am. Because I'd much rather be sleeping. Or knitting.
Both mornings, I've used this opportunity to shove down a granola bar. I suspect that my weird mid-morning slump is really just hunger/low blood sugar. I'll have to work on eating breakfast more regularly again, I think.
Ok...but here's my weird weirdness of the current moment. Because I'm outgrowing most of my regular clothes - at an alarming rate! - I'm definitely feeling not the best about myself and my body. I know that you are supposed to gain weight. That you NEED to gain weight. And so far, it appears that my weight gain has chosen to appear only in my boobs and belly (especially the boobs...), and a little on my hips.
Last summer, I started on a big health kick. I changed some eating patterns and I exercised far more regularly. Throughout last summer and fall, I know that I lost a little weight. But the bigger thing is that I just felt REALLY GOOD. I felt strong. And healthy. And when you're eating well and exercising well, you start giving yourself way more grace, and your body image goes through the roof even if there's not a lot of observable difference.
So now, a year later, it's a strange mental shift to have to accept - and encourage! - your own weight gain. Last year, more clothes were fitting me, and they were fitting me better. This summer, I'm starting to outgrow my clothes. Last summer, I would go running or do strength training three and four times a week. This summer, I'm trying to keep up with my changing body, and some days walking is the best I can do, and I can still manage the occasional run, but not for much longer, and I'm trying to do a little yoga, but I'm also tired and clumsy and a worrier, so I'm just not so active right now. Last summer, I did not have to deal with giant pregnancy boobs that not only hurt your chances of fitting into old clothes, but that make you ridiculously self-conscious.
And since there are always a thousand things you could be worrying about when you're pregnant, you start having these strange moments of worrying that you might be gaining too much weight, or gaining it too fast. And then, when you think about how slow you were to gain weight at first, you start worrying that you've inadvertently overcompensated by overeating...and eating lots of junk...and so you worry that have swung the other direction and are now gaining too much. And THEN, when you have an ultrasound at 20 weeks and 2 days, and you find out that your baby is measuring 15oz, which means that he/she is measuring about five days ahead, you can really really give yourself a complex.
All of this is to say that I have no idea how much weight I've gained since my last doctor's appointment. And no idea how much weight I should gain. And really, no conception of what a good amount of weight to gain is for me and my body type, and it's all very silly, because I don't actually look pudgy or overweight, I just look pregnant.
Anyway. These weird weird weird thoughts make one oddly reluctant to commit to eating more food in the morning.
So. I need a plan.
Breakfast. That's a good start. And healthy stuff. Yogurt. Or fruit. Or even cereal. NOT sugary granola bars. And walking to church as much as possible. Because it's a short walk, but any walk is better than no walk. And better lunches. Protein and veggies and all that good stuff. And less late-afternoon snacking. Because, really, I'm eating because I'm bored, tired, and thirsty when I get home from church. Water. And naps. Much better options. And healthier dinners. Or at least trying not go back for thirds on everything! And then...I'm definitely keeping my pre-bed bowl of ice cream. Because some things are simply non-negotiable.
I am usually a pretty well-adjusted person when it comes to weight and body image. I'm pretty sure that in life, I've complained or felt self-conscious as much as your average person, but it's never been a THING for me. I've always been reasonably active, especially in the last few years, and I rarely worry or get hung up about my eating habits. I love food and cooking. I love eating. It's all good.
And I am so unbelievably excited and grateful to be pregnant, and in the grand scheme of things, all of this body stuff DOES NOT MATTER, and I know it. And I feel sort of like a louse for complaining at all, because I know what it's like to be on the watching and waiting side of things, where I was willing to put up with ANYTHING, as long as I could get a baby into my arms. Mostly, I am incredibly surprised that I'm feeling weird and bothered by any of this. It's not my usual style.
I think - I truly do - that I am mostly just worried about wanting things to be good for little hedgehog. Too much weight isn't good. Too little weight isn't good. I don't know what the target is right now. Also, it's dealing with all of this for the first time, learning how my body reacts to pregnancy, learning about my own body's specific ways of shifting and changing, which is just going to be new for everybody.
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