At my 6-week postpartum appointment, I got clearance to exercise. […]
At my 6-week postpartum appointment, I got clearance to exercise. This was good and bad news. Good because I could put forth effort towards getting rid of the little deflated tire that has settled around my waist since Rowan’s birth; bad because I had no excuse not to put forth effort towards getting rid of said tire. Those previous six weeks were a free ticket to not worry and care about how I looked. But now that I have the go-ahead to work out, I should exercise my right to do so.
The week I was cleared to exercise, my fortune cookie taunted me with this cruel reminder.
Fortunately, I was already within seven pounds of my pre-baby weight by the time I stepped on the scale at that doctor’s visit. The first couple weeks took care of the majority of my pregnancy weight, much to my delight. And after seeing how fast it was flying off in the beginning, I secretly hoped it would continue at such a pace as to allow me to be at my usual size by the time I got clearance to exercise. I was clearly pressing my luck.
Of course now that I have permission to work out, it’s the last thing I want to do with my time. (Not that it was ever first on my list even when I could.) I’d rather spend time playing with Rowan, reading a book, or watching TV. Those stretches of time between feedings, diaper changes, and naps are more sacred than ever, and I’d rather not spend them doing an activity I don’t like.
For now, my daily walks will have to suffice. And so far, they have. I enjoy taking Finn and Rowan out in the morning for a brisk stroll through the neighborhood, and I love my mommy walks with my friend and her daughter. I like to think they’ve helped me slim down to the point that I can fit into my fat pants, and I (perhaps unrealistically) hope they can help me get back into my regular jeans.
No matter how or when – or gulp, if
– I get my body back, I do respect it a whole lot more now than I did pre-baby. It’s gone through a major transformation this year, allowing me to safely carry and deliver our healthy baby boy. And it continues to amaze me by nourishing Rowan and helping him grow into the smiley, happy baby I fall more in love with every day. So I should really give it a break and be thankful.
But if someone mistakes me for being pregnant, I’m turning our daily walks into daily runs…