While I've managed to live my life largely unaware of the judgement of others, there have been a few times when I have been subjected to what I can only descibe as fat-phobia.
Fat-phobia is the term I use to describe the assumption that sitting next to me, spending time with me, or getting to know me may lead to one becoming obese like me. I know it sounds foolish, but trust me - I've seen this in action.
I guess because of this I've been reluctant to share with other people that Hubby and I are trying to conceive. Obviously, I've shared this with you all - but it is greatly due to the fact that only a handful of those on the web actually know me.
I found myself today at an appointment for an xray - actually, it was a GI series - one which my family doctor had ordered no less than 10 months ago. I didn't think much of it, and went about the routine of preparing for the test as prescribed. I fasted, then got up at the crack of dawn and drove to the hospital.
While I awaited my turn, I noticed the signs plastered on the wall: "Please advise the technician if you may be pregnant."
Sooo... first of all, IF I'm pregnant, it is extremely early... as in 48 hours post-ovulation kind of early.
As I walked into the exam room, my heart sped up and I flushed. My options were to discuss this with the technician or avoid the topic. After all, the last thing I wanted today was a lecture on how I should not reproduce at my humongous size...
I briefly considered not telling the technician and actually risking it - just to avoid judgement.
Then, thankfully, I took a big gulp and I spoke up for my potential embryo and also myself.
I informed the technician of my dilemma. Usually they would send a patient to the lab for bloodwork to determine pregnancy, however at 48 hours post-ovulation, it is too early to get positive results in the bloodwork. She was a nice lady who treated me with dignity and respect. No lecture in sight. Phew!
The Radiologist then came out of the back room to speak to me. Again, my heart lept into action like a loud drum in my ears and I suddenly developed a problem swallowing, I realised with impending doom that THIS was the very moment that I would get The Dreaded Lecture. I pictured him coming at me, waving a finger, questioning me as to what right in heck did I figure I had to even TRY to bring a child into this world...
And yet, when I took a breath, I noticed that this was all imaginary. The Doctor was not waving a finger in my face. He had the most beautiful deep brown eyes, and appeared to be from the environs of India as he spoke with a rich and luxurious accent. He advised me against the procedure given that it would be a series of mutiple x-rays and could be harmful if indeed I am pregnant. (Also, there was no pressing medical urgency to me having the test done - the issue which resulted in me getting the referral all those months ago had seemed to have vanished).
He apologized for my wait, and for my time. I thanked him for his time.
As I left the room, he called out these words (which I just may have to embroider on a pillow or paint on a wall).... "Oh, and Madam, one more thing: good luck with the baby".
There you have it. No lecture. No judgement. Only kind words, and well-wishes.
Perhaps I am as fat-phobic as anyone else. I know I've been my own worst enemy for much of my life. And while I talk about self-awareness and self-confidence, there is obviously still the tendancy to put myself down in between my two ears.
I'm not ready to go out there on a limb and proclaim to the Universe that I am hoping to bear a child...
But I'm no longer willing to let the negative track that runs through my mind remain on "repeat".
To battle obesity is a challenge. I must not only question what I put into my mouth and decipher its nutritional value. I must also question every self-thought and ask myself if my judgement is of any value to progress in this battle.
Life is hard enough without battling MYSELF. I'm waving the white flag, and surrendering to just try my best.
Thursday 24 May 2012
Monday 14 May 2012
Mother's Day
It was a rough day for me yesterday.
Last month I was pretty sure that I had become pregnant. I was patiently (ok, not really patiently) doing for the 2WW... which is lingo for the "two week wait" which is the hallmark of many couples who are trying to conceive. Basically it is the two weeks post ovulation leading up to the arrival of one's menstrual cycle. I know, I know. TMI... but there you have it.
I had some of the symptoms that I have read about online. My ability to smell anything from cough drops to fruit being peeled increased dramatically. I was irritable at times, and also had a bit of cramping. My boobs (again TMI, sorry) were tender. And my appetite was wonky.
I found myself starting to do all sorts of things one would do if she found herself pregnant. I day dreamed about nurseries, names, and offspring. I fantasized about my dear Hubby holding his child for the first time. In the meanwhile, I painted a mural in the nursery of our dear friend who is expecting her first child soon, and I secretly spent the whole time thinking of what I would paint on the walls of our own nusery...
Then low and behold, 3 days prior to the arrival of dear Auntie Flo (which would have meant testing time!) I no longer needed to test. I suddenly found myself heartbroken. I felt like curling into a ball on the bathroom floor, but I didn't.
I'm not sure if I had what is known as a chemical pregnancy (which is a pregnancy that ends in the very early stages), or if I was never pregnant in the first place and just had my period early. Either way, it was rough.
I kept most of this inside. After all, how can I honestly grieve when I don't even know if I was pregnant? Hubby has a million things on the go, and I felt like I couldn't burden him with the depths of my heartbreak. It didn't even really make a whole lot of sense to me, so I dealt with it the best way I could. I talked to a close friend and also a coworker. Then I did my best to move on.
Along came Mother's day, and it hit me. Next Mother's Day I'll be 40. I know that people are now having kids into their 40s, but let's be honest here: time is a ticking.
I feel like the sand is falling through the hourglass at a fast rate and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
Some of you have asked me about adoption. There is a 10 year waitlist where I live, and it is sadly against the law to advertise for a baby. Foster parenting is a great idea, except I'm pretty sure that I would not be able to give a child back. Overseas adoptions require a lot of money, and some of them even choose not to adopt to overweight or obese parents.
I spent half of my adult life actively trying NOT to have kids and literally thanking God when Aunt Flo arrived to confirm that I had not become pregnant... Now, I would give anything to have the opportunity to give it a shot. Isn't it ironic, don't you think?
I guess it goes to show you that life can change. I've handled major changes before, and seen them as opportunities to move on in a new direction.
The problem I'm now facing is that I just can't see past my burning desire to have a child... I can't imagine not having a baby... and I don't want to move in a direction that means not having one. I used to find myself saying things like "when God closes a door He opens a window" and yet I honestly can't imagine what kind of window could open if I am not a mother.
I'm just realizing that part of me actually did curl into the fetal position last month, and that as much as I've tried to avoid grieving because it didn't seem logical, it doesn't change the fact that I still need to grieve - even if it is just for the opportunity that passed and for what wasn't.
Yet again this month I'll continue this dreaded dance of trying, wishing, hoping, praying, and waiting.
This much I know: trying to conceive is an intensely personal thing, which has emotions as deep as the ocean. Many couples struggle with this, and yet they often suffer in silence.
It is very easy for me to suffer in silence as well, however I must choose to move on as best I can, which is the very reason that I am writing this post today.
To all of you mothers out there, hope you had a happy Mother's day. I hope to one day be celebrating with you all. This time around it just wasn't meant to be.
Last month I was pretty sure that I had become pregnant. I was patiently (ok, not really patiently) doing for the 2WW... which is lingo for the "two week wait" which is the hallmark of many couples who are trying to conceive. Basically it is the two weeks post ovulation leading up to the arrival of one's menstrual cycle. I know, I know. TMI... but there you have it.
I had some of the symptoms that I have read about online. My ability to smell anything from cough drops to fruit being peeled increased dramatically. I was irritable at times, and also had a bit of cramping. My boobs (again TMI, sorry) were tender. And my appetite was wonky.
I found myself starting to do all sorts of things one would do if she found herself pregnant. I day dreamed about nurseries, names, and offspring. I fantasized about my dear Hubby holding his child for the first time. In the meanwhile, I painted a mural in the nursery of our dear friend who is expecting her first child soon, and I secretly spent the whole time thinking of what I would paint on the walls of our own nusery...
Then low and behold, 3 days prior to the arrival of dear Auntie Flo (which would have meant testing time!) I no longer needed to test. I suddenly found myself heartbroken. I felt like curling into a ball on the bathroom floor, but I didn't.
I'm not sure if I had what is known as a chemical pregnancy (which is a pregnancy that ends in the very early stages), or if I was never pregnant in the first place and just had my period early. Either way, it was rough.
I kept most of this inside. After all, how can I honestly grieve when I don't even know if I was pregnant? Hubby has a million things on the go, and I felt like I couldn't burden him with the depths of my heartbreak. It didn't even really make a whole lot of sense to me, so I dealt with it the best way I could. I talked to a close friend and also a coworker. Then I did my best to move on.
Along came Mother's day, and it hit me. Next Mother's Day I'll be 40. I know that people are now having kids into their 40s, but let's be honest here: time is a ticking.
I feel like the sand is falling through the hourglass at a fast rate and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
Some of you have asked me about adoption. There is a 10 year waitlist where I live, and it is sadly against the law to advertise for a baby. Foster parenting is a great idea, except I'm pretty sure that I would not be able to give a child back. Overseas adoptions require a lot of money, and some of them even choose not to adopt to overweight or obese parents.
I spent half of my adult life actively trying NOT to have kids and literally thanking God when Aunt Flo arrived to confirm that I had not become pregnant... Now, I would give anything to have the opportunity to give it a shot. Isn't it ironic, don't you think?
I guess it goes to show you that life can change. I've handled major changes before, and seen them as opportunities to move on in a new direction.
The problem I'm now facing is that I just can't see past my burning desire to have a child... I can't imagine not having a baby... and I don't want to move in a direction that means not having one. I used to find myself saying things like "when God closes a door He opens a window" and yet I honestly can't imagine what kind of window could open if I am not a mother.
I'm just realizing that part of me actually did curl into the fetal position last month, and that as much as I've tried to avoid grieving because it didn't seem logical, it doesn't change the fact that I still need to grieve - even if it is just for the opportunity that passed and for what wasn't.
Yet again this month I'll continue this dreaded dance of trying, wishing, hoping, praying, and waiting.
This much I know: trying to conceive is an intensely personal thing, which has emotions as deep as the ocean. Many couples struggle with this, and yet they often suffer in silence.
It is very easy for me to suffer in silence as well, however I must choose to move on as best I can, which is the very reason that I am writing this post today.
To all of you mothers out there, hope you had a happy Mother's day. I hope to one day be celebrating with you all. This time around it just wasn't meant to be.
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