Hi,
Im Melody!
Im
29 years old, I’m from Christchurch, New Zealand. I currently live in
Vancouver, Canada with my husband. On November 24th 2016 I was on
holiday with my Mum at the most gorgeous beach in New Zealand (Kaiteriteri). We
took pics of each other and at the time I was happy, I had a pretty good
self-esteem, I was with one of my most favourite people in the world. Then I took a good look at the same picture
later that day and quietly my jaw dropped and I felt deeply saddened.
What
on earth had happened to my body???
I was 95.5 kg (210.3lb) and 27 years old. I was deliberately buying bigger and baggier clothes in order to disguise my increasing size. I was honestly quite apathetic about my weight. Generally assuming that what I was eating and how much was perfectly fine. I thought I led a pretty ‘active’ life. I preferred stairs to elevators and I loved to eat fruit and vegetables. I was also incredibly blessed in that my husband was the least shallow person on the planet and had fallen in love in with me and continued to love and respect me even as I gained more weight.
I was 95.5 kg (210.3lb) and 27 years old. I was deliberately buying bigger and baggier clothes in order to disguise my increasing size. I was honestly quite apathetic about my weight. Generally assuming that what I was eating and how much was perfectly fine. I thought I led a pretty ‘active’ life. I preferred stairs to elevators and I loved to eat fruit and vegetables. I was also incredibly blessed in that my husband was the least shallow person on the planet and had fallen in love in with me and continued to love and respect me even as I gained more weight.
The wake up call(s).
- - THAT
picture.
- - My
husband and I can’t get pregnant due to infertility (low sperm count and thyroid issues).
- - People
frequently coming up to me and either commenting or patting my stomach and
asking when my ‘baby’ was due.
- - Hubby
and I at that time had applied for international adoption. I was told I was on
“the cusp of the failing” the BMI test of the country we were seeking to apply
to. My weight had officially become a barrier to being a Mum.
- - While
getting a physical done at my Doctors office, looking at his stern but kind
face and being told simply “You’re overweight. You shouldn’t be this size at 27.”
Its been a year now. A lot of things have happened. We pursued adoption passionately, vigorously, seriously. Much like being pregnant I suppose, we were giddy with excitement, longing and expectation. I discovered an untapped never-ending source of motivation to eat better and exercise – hopeful motherhood. It was agonising to not have the blessing of pregnancy happen to me. I wanted people to ask me if I was pregnant and actually BE pregnant. I had to grieve and hopefully get over that desire in a way and my way of doing it was telling myself – “Well if I can’t gain baby weight I can sure as hell lose weight for this living child. That child deserves a healthy Mum.” My friends who have adopted warned me that the worst part of the process was the waiting. Best to give myself something productive to do while we wait.
So I started losing weight.
It wasn’t that easy or that straight forward, but honestly I eventually got there. Im now 73 kg (160lb) and I definitely feel it and can tell the difference in more ways than just the number on the scale. Its taken me a year to get that number and I’m hoping to continue losing more weight or toning up more (either or Im not fussed).
Ive used and continue to use a number of resources and strategies as well as avoided a ton of unhealthy fads out there that I thought perhaps others might want to know about. In the past 2 months in particular, Ive noticed people looking at me and giving me lovely compliments but most of all asking me “What are you doing? What are you eating? How are you exercising? How are you maintaining/sticking with this?”
I felt over time that I was repeating myself quite a bit in my answers and honestly I was becoming a bit worried that people would only listen to a portion of what I was saying, accidentally take something out of context then go dive into the crazy pool of diet/exercise legalism.
Despite what people might say, you can’t avoid the issue of motivation and good ol’ fashioned self-control. Shopping and cooking and eating healthy foods can only get you so far. This past June, I lost it.
Our adoption agency decided to stop the home study we were doing and cancel their contract with us. For reasons I don’t want to touch on here, other than it had nothing to do with our personalities, background, beliefs or abilities as potential parents. This was absolutely the worst thing that had happened to me in over ten years. The day that happened I understood the term “stabbed in the back.” I couldn’t breathe properly. I couldn’t smile or laugh or think straight for months. I was in a constant state of grief for an entire month and I emotionally, mentally and spiritually checked out. I wanted no part of my family, friends or work. I wanted to find a hole in the ground and die. Ive never said this out aloud but at one point, I contemplated if my life was even worth living at one point for a few hours, then changed my mind after a conversation with my Mum and she told me “Don’t make any big decisions right now.”
Interestingly, instead of taking my grief out in a tub of ice cream, I grabbed my hiking boots and continued my passion of hiking trails (except with no passion just morose depressing anger and the need to scream with no one around). This time, deliberately picking and trekking 5-8 hours over steep terrain. On my own. In bear and cougar infested forests of British Columbia ( don't worry I kept pepper spray and a whistle on me). The amount I was exercising had decreased but it was thankfully still occurring. I also continued to run, swim at the local pool or do weight training 1-2 days per week. I discovered, feeling achy bones and muscles, feeling the dribble of sweat down my back and tears down my face while being surrounded by trees, water, dirt, clean air and rock and being alone in it all made me feel… Nothing.
Feeling nothing felt good.
Then I’d go home and sleep for nine hours, and that also was good.
That was five months ago. Im much better now. Still dealing with it but not as severely. Hubby and I are still figuring out things but are doing ok. We grieved in our own way but luckily we remembered to cling to each other in support. We felt like we were the only two people in the world who understood each other. We both eventually reintegrated ourselves back into our community. This topic still hurts. That wound is still there. But Im doing ok so far.
I don’t want to sound self-pitying or turn this into a big thing on infertility. But losing weight and maintaining weight loss and a pursuing a healthy lifestyle is impacted so much more by the pains in our lives than our joys. During this grief period, my weight graph looked more like a rollercoaster. Lately its started becoming more progressively downward again.
It’s never simple.
The last thing I want to mention is this: I did this journey for me and me only. I went into it fully knowing that my husband would likely continue to eat cinnamon buns and fizzy drinks and fast food around me or away from me during work. Of course I am the biggest influence in my husband’s life and I hoped some of what I was doing would rub off and it did in a way but as the saying goes – You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink. Some of my eating and healthy habits have slowly but surely made their way into his routine as well but it has been his decision, his doing, not mine. And hes doing it in his own way. We’ve only been married for six years but I already know full well, nagging, controlling and manipulating does not work in the long term. The temptation to be holier than thou with one’s spouse is ever present and occasionally I falter. But as Ive learned also, saying sorry never goes out of style.
For readers, I want to make this blog honest, straight forward, imperfect, non-photo shopped, encouraging and most of all,
Hope giving.
Much love,
Melody.
Its been a year now. A lot of things have happened. We pursued adoption passionately, vigorously, seriously. Much like being pregnant I suppose, we were giddy with excitement, longing and expectation. I discovered an untapped never-ending source of motivation to eat better and exercise – hopeful motherhood. It was agonising to not have the blessing of pregnancy happen to me. I wanted people to ask me if I was pregnant and actually BE pregnant. I had to grieve and hopefully get over that desire in a way and my way of doing it was telling myself – “Well if I can’t gain baby weight I can sure as hell lose weight for this living child. That child deserves a healthy Mum.” My friends who have adopted warned me that the worst part of the process was the waiting. Best to give myself something productive to do while we wait.
So I started losing weight.
It wasn’t that easy or that straight forward, but honestly I eventually got there. Im now 73 kg (160lb) and I definitely feel it and can tell the difference in more ways than just the number on the scale. Its taken me a year to get that number and I’m hoping to continue losing more weight or toning up more (either or Im not fussed).
Ive used and continue to use a number of resources and strategies as well as avoided a ton of unhealthy fads out there that I thought perhaps others might want to know about. In the past 2 months in particular, Ive noticed people looking at me and giving me lovely compliments but most of all asking me “What are you doing? What are you eating? How are you exercising? How are you maintaining/sticking with this?”
I felt over time that I was repeating myself quite a bit in my answers and honestly I was becoming a bit worried that people would only listen to a portion of what I was saying, accidentally take something out of context then go dive into the crazy pool of diet/exercise legalism.
Despite what people might say, you can’t avoid the issue of motivation and good ol’ fashioned self-control. Shopping and cooking and eating healthy foods can only get you so far. This past June, I lost it.
Our adoption agency decided to stop the home study we were doing and cancel their contract with us. For reasons I don’t want to touch on here, other than it had nothing to do with our personalities, background, beliefs or abilities as potential parents. This was absolutely the worst thing that had happened to me in over ten years. The day that happened I understood the term “stabbed in the back.” I couldn’t breathe properly. I couldn’t smile or laugh or think straight for months. I was in a constant state of grief for an entire month and I emotionally, mentally and spiritually checked out. I wanted no part of my family, friends or work. I wanted to find a hole in the ground and die. Ive never said this out aloud but at one point, I contemplated if my life was even worth living at one point for a few hours, then changed my mind after a conversation with my Mum and she told me “Don’t make any big decisions right now.”
Interestingly, instead of taking my grief out in a tub of ice cream, I grabbed my hiking boots and continued my passion of hiking trails (except with no passion just morose depressing anger and the need to scream with no one around). This time, deliberately picking and trekking 5-8 hours over steep terrain. On my own. In bear and cougar infested forests of British Columbia ( don't worry I kept pepper spray and a whistle on me). The amount I was exercising had decreased but it was thankfully still occurring. I also continued to run, swim at the local pool or do weight training 1-2 days per week. I discovered, feeling achy bones and muscles, feeling the dribble of sweat down my back and tears down my face while being surrounded by trees, water, dirt, clean air and rock and being alone in it all made me feel… Nothing.
Feeling nothing felt good.
Then I’d go home and sleep for nine hours, and that also was good.
That was five months ago. Im much better now. Still dealing with it but not as severely. Hubby and I are still figuring out things but are doing ok. We grieved in our own way but luckily we remembered to cling to each other in support. We felt like we were the only two people in the world who understood each other. We both eventually reintegrated ourselves back into our community. This topic still hurts. That wound is still there. But Im doing ok so far.
I don’t want to sound self-pitying or turn this into a big thing on infertility. But losing weight and maintaining weight loss and a pursuing a healthy lifestyle is impacted so much more by the pains in our lives than our joys. During this grief period, my weight graph looked more like a rollercoaster. Lately its started becoming more progressively downward again.
It’s never simple.
The last thing I want to mention is this: I did this journey for me and me only. I went into it fully knowing that my husband would likely continue to eat cinnamon buns and fizzy drinks and fast food around me or away from me during work. Of course I am the biggest influence in my husband’s life and I hoped some of what I was doing would rub off and it did in a way but as the saying goes – You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink. Some of my eating and healthy habits have slowly but surely made their way into his routine as well but it has been his decision, his doing, not mine. And hes doing it in his own way. We’ve only been married for six years but I already know full well, nagging, controlling and manipulating does not work in the long term. The temptation to be holier than thou with one’s spouse is ever present and occasionally I falter. But as Ive learned also, saying sorry never goes out of style.
For readers, I want to make this blog honest, straight forward, imperfect, non-photo shopped, encouraging and most of all,
Hope giving.
Much love,
Melody.
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