My monthly gyno appointment was last Tuesday and at my un-eagerly awaited weigh-in I felt a little like shamu.
“Eight pounds.” the doctors noted in her file.
“Pardon?” Suddenly, I didn’t understand a word she said. I figured another bout of pregnancy-hearing had swept over me, which I would describe as feeling like auditory dyslexia.
“Uh huh, looks like you’re making up for the last 6 months of low gain.”
“How much of that do you think is water?”
Thankfully she nodded empathetically and said a lot, but then isn’t she supposed to help me stay positive during my pregnancy? I actually choked the words out, incredulous and laughing as I drove home.
I gained 31 lbs with Naya and thought I would be slim, trim and fabulous with our second. I had visions of glowing like a goddess with arms so tanned and toned – the likes of which I have rarely had; of a belly so tight and petite that I’d look like a swallowed an olive. Not quite the case….I do glow but that is probably more from overheating than the beautiful bounty of my belly.
Not withstanding that we were in Orlando at a resort with a fabulous breakfast buffet to account for my gains, I swung by Loblaws for fresh salmon, organic mixed greens, berries and an uber-low fat dressing all of which were intended to serve as our meals for the next two days. I say ours because I have no intention of making three meals – one for Naya, one for Al (who has never needed to watch his weight do anything other than stay fantastically stable), and the salad for me.
So here I am, alllll of me. Euphoric with a healthy belly, a health appetite and a bouncing baby-to-be who I hope with it’s birth will take away pounds from me.