I know that this is the case for so many of us. You decide to bring children into the world, and not only do you have to give up your life as you know it (which is NOT a bad thing), you also have to give up your body.
April of 2006. Mexico. 127lbs.
When you have your first baby, you think everything is a wonderful, amazing process, and you don't so much notice the weight gain...I mean REALLY notice it until after you give birth. You still have grand delusions of getting back into to your pre-pregnancy clothes right away.....until you realize that NOTHING FITS!!!!! You still have this belly that looks like you are about 5 months pregnant, and for some reason, your derriere didn't immediately shrink back to it's normal size as soon as that cute little person came out of your body. I accepted this...it actually didn't bother me at all (until much later when we decided to go on vacation in spring of 2008). I embraced being a little bigger (okay, honestly, I started out a size 5, and was an 11 after the Munchkin was born...and stayed that way until I got pregnant with the Little Man).
Morning of Munchkin's birth, June 2007. 160lbs. Size 11.
Then you have your second child. You don't really have any body expectations at this point. You know what is going to happen, and you don't worry about it, until every week at the doctor's office, the scale goes up 5 pounds (yes, every week, I gained 20 pounds that month)! The bad part at this point was that I was on bed-rest and I could NOT do anything to stop the RAPID weight gain. After the Little Man arrived, I knew what to expect about what my body was going to look like, but I didn't like it either. Again, I had to go out and buy clothes so that I could go to work in something other than sweatpants. I ended up being a size 13 after Little Man.
Morning of Little Man's birth, January 2009. 180lbs. Size 13.
Then the weight started melting away. Literally. I wasn't doing anything. I wasn't dieting. I wasn't exercising. I WAS under an incredible amount of stress at that point. So, when you live on coffee and happy pills (yes...I admit it, and I needed them, AND THEY WORK!) you tend to loose a little weight. I actually got down to a size 9! And then......
Family Pictures. Early Fall 2009. 140ish lbs. Size 9.
I found out I was pregnant with #3. I was a little panicky at this point. I had finally started feeling better about my body. And here I was pregnant again, facing another possible 50 pound weight gain. Honestly, I have barely gained 20lbs. with this pregnancy. My hips, derriere, and thighs, however, did not get the DO NOT EXPAND memo. I was good up until about March...then things went a little downhill.
April 15, 2010. 32 weeks pregnant. 160lbs.
NOTHING FITS! I KNOW that I'm pregnant. And no, I have NOT gained much weight, but let's be honest here...my butt is wide. Wider than it has ever been before. It's uncharted territory! I know that I will be birthing my THIRD child in just a few weeks. People constantly tell me how cute I look. How I'm all belly (we'll just wait and see what happens when the girth of my belly isn't covering up the girth of everything else). I mean it's great that people want to be polite, but let's not ignore reality here. It really doesn't make me feel better, to me it means that people are noticing (how wide I actually am) and are trying to make me feel better about it.
I know I said that this blog was about shopping being traumatizing...and it is. I'm getting to it right now. I feel that you needed the proper background information.
This past Sunday it was rather warm. I was going through my mishmash of maternity clothes trying to find a pair of capris (that actually fit) to wear. WASN'T HAPPENING. So Jon, my dear, wonderful husband suggested that I try a pair of HIS shorts on. Here is part of the actual conversation.....
"Here, just try them on."
"They aren't going to fit."
"How do you know, just try them."
"Because I know. They aren't going to fit. I'll show you."
And then I put them on and pulled them up. And no, they didn't fit.
"Oh....you're right. They don't fit. Why don't you buy some shorts while you're out with Melissa today."
So, yes. I knew what I was in for. I even knew what size I had to look for. I just needed to try on the shorts to make sure they actually fit. I tried them on, and they did indeed fit. They actually don't look too bad (because at this point, not too bad is the best to hope for).
I brought them home and did fashion show (I always do fashion show....it's imperative to make sure you look halfway decent in the stuff you just bought). Jon commented that they didn't look too bad. Okay. Good purchase. I'm good for the rest of the summer (because as we all know, your butt doesn't immediately shrink the moment you give birth).
I held up a pair (that I wasn't wearing) and said, "Wow, these look really big when you hold them up." Jon agreed and inquired about the size. I asked him if he really wanted to know. He said that he did. So I told him. Size 15.
He then said, "Weren't you a size 5 before you got pregnant with the Munchkin?"
"Yes dear, yes I was."
"Oh well, I'd still do ya."
Aww. How sweet. So as traumatic as the numbers seem, I suppose it's really not that bad. Especially when your husband seems (or at least pretends) not to care or notice that you have an ever expanding body.