I Hate Working Out!

I started back to the gym this week. I managed to make it Monday through Wednesday, but the The Baby got sick, so we stayed home today, and probably tomorrow as well.

I don't actually hate working out. I really enjoy my "alone" time at the gym. That 60 to 90 minutes of being kid-free is heaven! And once I get into the habit of going, it won't be so bad. I have to go, because I need to lose this weight. I can't stand to look at myself anymore. I hate that none of the clothes that I want to wear will fit me. I hate feeling like everyone is staring at me. But I love food. Especially carbs and sweets- you know, the things you're not supposed to eat. I've become a binge eater over the last few years. I know it's because of stress, but I can't figure out how to control it. I've struggled with eating disorders since I was 16 years old. Food is my mortal enemy.

Chocolate

I love chocolate. I might even be a chocoholic. If I'm not, I am teetering dangerously on the edge. I've been fighting the urge for chocolate and peanut butter ice cream for a few days now. Unfortunately, I had some time to kill- actually The Baby fell asleep in the shopping cart at Target, so I wandered aimlessly while he slept rather than waking him to put him in the car- and ended up buying a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Oh sweet indulgences! They feel like heaven in my mouth. It's a sickness, I know, but I can't seem to quite control my desire for chocolate.

My Preemie Turns 4

We celebrated #3's 4th birthday last week. It's always a bittersweet day for me. The day he was born was the most terrifying day of my life. I still cry when I allow myself to remember that day. It was January 16th, and he wasn't due until May 4th. By the time I realized there was something very wrong, and got to the hospital, it was too late. I was in labor that could not be stopped. The nurse examined me, and I was 7 cm dilated. She yelled at the top of her lungs "I've got a bulging sack!" The terror that rushed through me is indescribable. I screamed "I don't want my baby to die!" over and over again as they wheeled me to the delivery room.

As it turned out, #3 was breech, and had to be delivered by c-section. As I laid on the operating table, I wanted to stop existing. I didn't want to live without the baby I had waited so long for. I tried to make myself stop breathing, but The Man was right there, telling me to open my eyes. I clung to the sound of his voice, and took a breath. I couldn't allow him to lose his baby and his wife in one day.

The 91 days that #3 spent in the NICU were a roller coaster. We had really good days, and really bad days. We almost lost him on a few occasions, but he proved to be stronger than anyone could have imagined. He came into this world weighing a mere 1lb 13oz, and was 12 inches long. He's 4 years old now, and you would never know he had such a rough start in life.

I try not to dwell on the trauma of his birth, but unfortunately I don't always succeed.


These photos were taken in the days following his birth



And here he is today!

Hibernation

Obviously, I've taken some time off from blogging. The holidays were somewhat difficult for me, since it was the first Christmas without my Dad. I pretty much just hibernated through December. And, today is #3's birthday. His birthday always stirs up lots of sadness for me. This year hasn't been as bad as the first three birthdays were, but I still feel an aching hole in my chest today. I'll elaborate more after this weekend- #3's party is on Sunday, so I'll post some pictures and go into details after that.