As I stepped onto the scale at the doctor’s office today and watched the nurse slide the weights from side to side, I was hoping against hope that I was reading the measurement wrong. (Maybe the scale needed to be recalibrated?)
But alas, no, she confirmed that I do indeed weigh about 10 pounds more now than I did when I delivered my daughter. And I still have nine weeks to go!
So it’s time to get serious. I bought a maternity swimsuit today—finally—at Target. I may order something fancier online, but I needed something quick so I could get going in the pool. Swimming is one of my favorite ways to exercise whether I’m pregnant or not (except for the nuisance of changing clothes and redoing my hair), and now that it’s summer, I’m committing myself to go down the half block to the neighborhood pool and swim laps a few evenings a week. I love that I can burn calories, slim down and grow stronger without getting all sweaty. And strengthening my lungs while building endurance has to be good for L&D, right? Plus, there’s the glorious weightlessness and decreased swelling which can’t be beat in the Georgia humidity.
The time has also come to get my eating in check. When my doctor recommended eating small meals throughout the day, I said, “Yep, I’ve written that article at least twice.” That’s the sad thing—I know exactly what I should be doing, I just haven’t been doing it. I’ve pretty much been eating whatever whenever. Ice cream at midnight? Sure. Horse for breakfast? Why not.
So now I’m restricting myself—no sweets (I’ll turn to frozen fruit instead), no juice (just more water), and smaller portions. (I wish I could cut out salt, but I’m not sure I’d survive.) We’ll see how it goes!
Note: For anyone paying close attention, you’ll notice that I should have 10 weeks more instead of nine. I talked to my doctor, and she agreed to induce labor a week early if I’m dilated and progressing on schedule. I did the same thing with my first pregnancy, and baby girl was definitely ready to arrive, at 8 lbs., 5 oz. with a big old cranium. (I’m not sure I want to have a kid much bigger than that!)
Another note: Those are most definitely not my ankles in the picture. That chick’s not even swollen.