Well, hullo there, strangers! Miss me?
For those of you who have stuck around, bless you for your patience. The past few months have been a bit of an emotional and physical roller coaster. But I have some big news to share.
Last December I went for my annual well-woman exam and mentioned to my midwife that S and I were earnestly starting to talk about getting pregnant. She point blank told me that was a terrible idea. Not because she thought I would be a terrible mother. But because she didn’t think it would be healthy or safe, on account of my weight.
We ended up talking for a long time. She listed all of the potential health consequences of being pregnant and obese. She mentioned that a few more pounds and my BMI would land me in the hospital as a high-risk delivery. Basically, she scared the shit out of me.
Then she suggested thinking about weight loss surgery. I told her the idea had crossed my mind in the past but it always seemed like it was a little too drastic. She looked at me sadly and said “I think we’re there, love”.
So I went home and cried for about two days straight. I was so ashamed. So sad. So … everything. But also so, so grateful. Finally someone told me what I needed to hear.
I’ve never had any serious co-morbidities because of my weight. No diabetes and my cholesterol is beautiful, as is my blood pressure. I had a touch of sleep apnea diagnosed in the past, but it was so mild my insurance wouldn’t pay for a CPAP. So my providers have always encouraged me to lose weight, but never really had that “come to Jesus” talk. I’m still young and fairly healthy. Perhaps they thought (as did I) that I just needed time and support and I’d get back on track. When I started slowing down over the past couple of years because I’ve basically been carrying around another person, I got freaked but just thought I needed to buckle down and go to the gym more, or eat better. The problem is, I did those things for a while and then I’d have a setback and I’d get discouraged and I’d be back to square one. Plus 20 more pounds. Being a perfectionist has its perks, but it can also really mess things up. That whole self-care thing? Setbacks just tend to send me into a tailspin. I believe one of my doctors once called it being “tightly wound”.
It’s never been a matter of not knowing intellectually that I need to lose weight. Or not understanding how to do so. I’m a nurse, for crying out loud. I know. But I’m also a human being with angels and demons of my own, and my particular demons are of the deliciously indulgent variety.
So in all my “free time” this semester, I’ve been doing more homework. Figures.
But this time, the homework has been to figure out what this whole weight loss surgery thing is all about. I’ve gone to seminars and read websites and blogs, and talked to the people I love. I was afraid I’d feel ashamed by sharing this struggle. I was afraid that my husband and family would have the same gut response that I first did … Isn’t it a bit drastic to have your guts rearranged, “just” to lose weight? Instead I’ve been inspired by the outpouring of love and support I have received. Turns out that everyone’s been as worried as I am, and they are proud of me for taking this step. For making the big, drastic commitment to change my life. Because the more I’ve learned about this process, the more I’ve realized that the surgery is only the first step. It helps me lose enough weight that I can do the stuff I must do to get the rest of it off. It’s up to me to take steps two, three and four.