Time For Change -or- Bring It On part 2

My relapse into my fat clothes started long before I ended up shopping in the maternity section.

Last fall I wasn't running anymore, I was finally in a wonderful relationship with someone who loved me for exactly how I already looked, I started a somewhat stressful job, and I began the, er-hem, relaxing task of planning my wedding and post-wedding life.

Then there was the holiday season.

And the honeymoon period.

Around March it dawned on me that my body was past the point where I was comfortable with it, and I should probably try to be healthier. I was just getting back into healthy meal planning when I took a pregnancy test that came back positive. Immediately I decided that I was going to really get healthy, for my baby's sake.

Then came severe morning sickness.

Now I know that part of this was from an increasingly severe infection developing in my body. All I knew at the time was that if it stayed down, it was fair game. And, oh yeah, bouncing around exercising? Not likely. This resulted in me not losing all that much weight during this time.

Then I started gaining weight and inches in earnest because, well, I was pregnant, and that's what pregnant ladies do: they grow.

Then I became even more sick.

Then I delivered Joseph.

Then I buried Joseph.

These past few weeks I've just been eating whatever the heck I feel like eating. I figure it's yet another manifestation of, "I have no control over the fact that I can't have what I really want, so I'm going to take everything else that I kind of want, because I can."

Then I realized that none of my pants fit me. The logical next step was to go shopping. But none of those fit me either.

Then I cried.

Then I started making changes.

We are now the proud owners of 3/4 of the produce section at Macey's, and I've incorporated all of it into our meals that I've actually been making from scratch. I've been eating on smaller plates with smaller forks, because that makes my brain think I'm eating more. Snacks have leaned more towards fruit and less towards junk.

Then I went out and bought this DVD:

I did the beginner workout and loved it! The only problem is that, in the two days since then, my body has been so ridiculously sore in those exact areas that the DVD focused on that I'm not capable of doing the routine again, although I tried this morning. Other than being a really awesome workout, some other things I love about the DVD are:

1) Like most workout DVDs they have the trainer with the unattainable body doing the workout. Unlike other DVDs, they have people like me working out behind them. This is great because, not only does it make me feel less self conscious, it also has the psychological, "Well, if HE can do it..." effect. 

2) Ben will wake up early to do the workout with me before he goes to work. And it challenges him, too. So, unlike when we go for a run, he is not my cheerleader, he is a fellow struggler and fighter.

While I will definitely be using that DVD, I've also renewed my gym membership. Now there is no excuse when I'm too sore from one specific workout, or it's too hot outside, or whatever else I can come up with. The gym is air conditioned and has a large variety of equipment, so I just look in the mirror, tell myself to man up, and go get my sweat dripping.

I found an elliptical machine today that lets me monitor my heart rate. This meant that I could check throughout my workout to make sure I wasn't wimping out. I kept my heart rate in the neighborhood of 150 for a solid half hour.

Basically, what it comes down to is this: It's back on, baby.

My body was given to me as a gift. It stands as a temple, honoring the One who made it. I'm in charge of the maintenance of this temple, and I will be accountable for everything that is done with it. 

My body is still capable of so much, I just need to keep working for it. 

Right now I'm not weighing myself, Honestly, I don't even want to know how far I've strayed. It doesn't matter. This body is going to be healthy and capable. I'm focusing on losing fat, and building muscle, including my heart.

I owe it to my Father.

I owe it to my husband.

I owe it to my future children.

I owe it to myself.

I owe it to Joseph not to completely fall apart.

Once again I say, Bring It On.

New Adventures Await

The mother of my first best friend made this wonderful collage for me, that I really like, so I thought I'd share it with ya'll.

This past week I've dedicated myself to moving forward and doing the things that I want to.

The hard part is, all I want in the world is to have my Joseph safe in my belly or in my arms.

But I can't have that for now.

So, I'm doing all these other things that I should want to do, and I'm moving forward, because I have to. I just have to keep away all the irrational, but inevitable feelings of guilt. 

Example of an odd bout guilt: For several years I've played with the idea of going to cosmetology school. I was going to start earlier this year, but then we found out that Joseph was going to be joining us. I'm going to be taking classes for 8 hours a day for a little over a year all the way over in Brigham City. We decided this would have to go on the back burner, because my pregnancy was turning out to be pretty rough, and we really didn't want to have to put Joseph into a daycare right after he was born. I was kind of disappointed about this, but that was greatly overshadowed by how excited I was to be a mom. 

But, now I'm coming to grips with that fact that I won't be welcoming a beautiful new baby into our life within the next year. Ben brought up the idea that maybe now would be the time for me to go to school. So, I've started the process of getting enrolled. I should be excited. This is what I've always wanted. However, every time I start to get excited, a voice in my head reminds me that the only reason I'm in the position to go to school right now is because I lost my Joseph. 

And then I feel guilty for being excited about something that means I don't have my son with me.

That's just one example. Things like that seem to pop up here and there. They make me feel awful. But, through an incredible amount of prayer and answers to those prayers, I've been given the strength and motivation to go forward with my life. I need to keep progressing.

Ben and I have also started being what I have termed "responsibly reckless". 

Other people might refer to it as "enjoying life and love".

We'd already planned a trip with my parents up to Jackson Hole, scheduled for a bit over a week from now. This trip was going to be our only summer adventure. 

Now we're averaging an adventure a week.

Last weekend we decided to celebrate our belated 6 month wedding anniversary/ 1 year from first date-iversary. We had a coupon card that could get us buy one get one free at a lot of different restaurants around the valley. We wanted to go somewhere really special. I saw an add in the coupon book for Belle Monte. I went and looked at their web site (click here) and thought it sounded like it might be nice, so we dressed up all fancy and went over to Sherwood Hills, where Belle Monte is right inside their lobby. We were the only people who appeared to have come there on purpose. Everyone else seemed to be staying at the resort and just was eating there so they didn't have to drive out of the canyon. 

Folks, this was the best restaurant I've ever eaten at. Every bite of food tasted like someone had really put a lot of thought into it. They didn't skimp on the portions, either. We ordered the sushi for the appetizer and then Ben got a shrimp pasta dish and I ordered the beef wellington. 

It was the best food I've ever tasted. Period. For the first time in my existence, I felt that I would be ungrateful if I failed to send my compliments to the chef. 

I highly recommend this restaurant to anyone with taste-buds or a love for ambiance (if you don't count your fellow restaurant attendees into account. Most had just gotten done hiking.). 

The night of the July 3rd was spent at Freedom Fire, the fireworks show in Logan. We were both having a cantankerous evening, because...

the 4th of July was a difficult holiday for me. It might sound silly, but I'd really been looking forward to being pregnant on the 4th. I'd heard that babies will kick when fireworks go off, and I was really looking forward, since I knew my baby was particularly wiggly and responsive to touch, I was excited to see if he reacted to noise, too. I spent that morning feeling really empty.

The distraction for the day of the 4th was Bear Lake. After driving over and getting the obligatory LaBeau's shake (Sidenote: Root beer-marshmallow was the best flavor combo I've come up with so far. Don't judge. Just try it. Also, Ben is prodding me to include his genius combo of orange-peach. It was also good.), we went over to a rocky, free portion of the south shore and went wading. 

I still can't go swimming for a bit longer, but we still put our feet in and then conducted some experiments in physics, namely, figuring out just how big of a rock we could get to skip.

Ben caught this impressive shot of him mid-sneeze.
Apparently, he's allergic to beach related happiness.
Or sand fleas.
There were plenty of both present.

 We spent the rest of the day on a gorgeous drive, before returning home much better off than we'd left it.

I'm not sure yet what this week will hold as far as adventures, but next week will be our trip to Jackson Hole, and then the week after that we'll be taking an overnight trip down to Salt Lake, where we'll stay in a 4-star hotel, that I found an awesome deal on and going to the zoo and City Creek. 

These little spontaneous trips, or trips to places that are more grand than we would normally take are our way of being rebellious. We've just lost our son and walk around with a constant, quiet feeling of being out of control of the most important things in our lives. Having little, controlled outbursts of recklessness helps to keep us sane right now. 

Just don't let me around any explosives or firearms any time soon. 

I have a hard enough time not randomly turning my car into a life size bumper car, demolition derby style.

The other day we were driving home and there were cars parked up and down our street. It looked like one was blocking our driveway, and I had the sudden image in my mind of us plowing into it at full speed. The thought was gratifying, but decidedly disturbing, so I elected not to share it with Ben, and instead silently smiled a malicious grin. As he was putting the car into park, safely in our garage, my husband turned to me and said, "I was hoping that car was parked front of our driveway. I really wanted an excuse to hit it."

An eternal kind of crazy.

My husband and I are, indeed, of one heart and one mind. Unity in marriage is a beautiful thing.