LOVE

Love these hair accessories from Halle Jean, especially the blue one. If my husband thinks I like to shop now, wait until we have a little girl.

PS: I went ahead and bought the blue one, I loved it so much. It's perfect, even prettier than the picture.

still weighting

I keep hearing that stress can affect fertility and even prevent ovulation, making it impossible to conceive. And whenever I tell someone that we're on month six, they immediately ask if I'm stressed. My answer has always been no, I like my job, I'm not in school, I'm happily married, and financially, we're doing okay. In my mind, "stress" is taking five classes, working full-time, and wondering if your boyfriend, the one you're ALWAYS fighting with, is the man you're supposed to marry. That was my life in college. And no, he wasn't the one.

Now, with all of that behind me, and the good job and loving husband and all, what is there to stress about? My life should be stress-free. And yet now I'm on Prozac (a low dose, and the one antidepressant that my ob/gyn was comfortable prescribing).

I've been on Prozac since March, when I sat in my doctor's office on the verge of a breakdown and confessed my EXTREME disappointment after a few months of trying to conceive without success. Waiting is difficult, and I worry too that I won't be able to get pregnant at all. So that's part of it. But there's this other thing too, something that I've been dealing with for almost two years now. This other thing that has taken over my life -- that I have allowed to control me, consume me. I have been struggling with an unhealthy relationship with food and body image. I've been in a battle with disordered eating. What I'm trying to say is that I've had an eating disorder.

There, I said it. Now you know.

It started in the months before I married my husband. I wanted to look beautiful on my wedding day -- to feel beautiful in my dress. And so I started to count calories. I didn't really need to lose weight, but I wanted to "tone up" and "feel good" about my body. I proceeded to lose approximately 20 pounds over three months. It doesn't sound like much, but it's not really about the weight as much as it is about the mentality. I never dropped below the healthy BMI range, but I became obsessed with dieting, and obsessed with my body. I did look great. But I remember on our honeymoon, examining myself in the mirror and thinking, I'm still fat, I need to lose more weight.

Instead, I did the opposite. After depriving myself for three months, and with the wedding behind me, I began to eat. And eat. And eat. I never purged, but I did binge. When I started gaining weight quickly, I freaked out and restricted again. And so began the vicious cycle that has been my life for the past 18+ months: binge, diet/exercise, binge, diet/exercise, and so on. And when I say diet, I mean 1200 calories OR LESS per day, plus 60 minutes of cardio. I absolutely HATE to vomit, or I'm sure I would purge too. In fact, I've wanted to, I've REALLY, REALLY wanted to. And I've wanted to stop eating altogether, but that's never worked for me either. I just end up binging again. So I now weigh 10 pounds more than when I initially started dieting, which means I've gained 30 pounds since my wedding. WOW. Truth is, if it weren't for the diet/exercise, I'm certain I'd weigh more.

*******

Let me back up here for just a minute. When I was in high school, I had two friends who struggled with eating disorders. I didn't get it. Why couldn't they just snap out of it? Realize they were beautiful? Eat healthy and exercise? Now I know. This is not something you can truly understand unless you've been through it, or suffered from an addiction. I've found enormous comfort in meeting wth a group of other young women struggling with the same issues and I know that I am not alone. And I'm not totally crazy. This is just something that I'm working through. But it's been hard, and it's been stressful.

*******

The point is, maybe there is a little stress in my life. And this is no way to begin a journey to mommyland.

Call me Aunt Jane

I'm going to be an aunt today. My sister-in-law is having a c-section at 3pm, and I'll have a little niece shortly thereafter. Should be exciting and wonderful, right? Well, I feel like finding a corner to cry in.

When I found out that I was going to be an aunt, I was surprised, a little excited, but mostly envious. And when I heard that I was going to have a niece, I actually did cry. I'm not sure why I was so upset. Probably because I really want a little girl. I want a little boy too, but I REALLY want a little girl. I want to decorate her room like this. And I want to take her shopping to buy dresses and headbands and stockings. I want to braid her hair and hold her hand while she has her ears pierced. And help her pick out her first tube of lipgloss. And hopefully, one day we'll have the relationship that I have with my mama, my best friend. A mother first, and then my very best friend.

So, when I hear about others having little girls, the envy just creeps in and takes over. No, it's not the right reaction, I know that. In fact, it's ridiculous and immature. I know that one day I will have my own babies and there is no reason to think that I will not have a girl. But still, until that day, everyone else should just stop having little girls. Actually, could you just stop having babies? Is that REALLY too much to ask?


*Update: I've met my little niece and I'm in love. IN LOVE. I can't help it. I had no idea how moved I would be by her birth, her existence. She is so tiny, so precious, so fragile, so beautiful. She has 10 tiny little toes and 10 tiny little fingers, complete with fingernails! And eyelashes! Every new little thing she does is amazing. Every sound, every movement - when she scrunches up her face or sticks out her tongue - I am completely captivated by her. And to think, my babies will be even more beautiful, I will feel even more love for them, they will live and breathe and grow inside of ME. God, please give me patience.

Happy Mother's Day

My Nana said to me today, "You look good with some meat on your bones. You're not pregnant are you?"

No Nana, I'm not pregnant. Thanks for reminding me on Mother's Day. And for pointing out that I've gained 15 pounds all on my own. You can barely see to read or watch TV, but you can tell that I'm a bit plumper and you think these extra pounds look good on me. Gee, that's great.

Bring on the barfing.

I never would have thought we'd be five months into this and still not pregnant. I was totally expecting to be like my sister-in-law, who was pregnant month one. Or like one of my three friends who were also all pregnant the very month they began trying. And then there are the two friends I have who became pregnant WITHOUT EVEN TRYING. Of course, I also have a friend who tried for 13 months, and another friend who tried for nine before finally getting pregnant. (Yes, ALL my friends are having babies.) And truth be told, it has only been five months. I've recently connected on Twitter with a few who have been trying for years. And I can only imagine how frustrating and disappointing that must be. So I realize, I have little room to whine at this point in the journey.

What I know is this -- when I do get pregnant, because I WILL be pregnant one day, I am going to try very hard not to complain about whatever pregnancy symptoms I experience. Because I know that there will be others out there who are still trying and thinking, "ENOUGH about being tired, I would give ANYTHING to be tired if it meant I were having a baby." I know they will say this because this is exactly what I think when I hear pregnant ladies complaining.

Don't get me wrong, I do love my pregnant friends and their babies. And I appreciate that being pregnant is not the most comfortable condition to be in. And no, I have not been there, so I don't know what it's really like. But I do know that the day I feel like barfing at the smell of peanut butter, will be the day I fall to my knees and thank the Lord for blessing me with a baby.