Can Exercise Hurt Your Breast Milk? [A Study in Mother Guilt]

A mother's love - they say that nothing is more powerful. (At least if you believe Harry Potter, which of course I do. I'm a sucker for green eyes.) So if this is true then I know the second most powerful force on the planet: A mother's guilt.

Whether they hand it to you as you exit the hospital, a neat little package of the shame you carry for sending your precious infant to the nursery to spend his first night on the planet alone amongst the bright lights and loud noises or whether you don't discover the little box hidden like a pipe bomb under the baby seat that you realize you've installed incorrectly and yet have been using it to tote your fragile baby around for months, it is an inevitability. It hits you like a knife to the stomach twisting your innards as your mind races to all the what-could-haves and thank-God-it-didn'ts as you repeat the Happiest Baby on the Block like so many nursery rhyme Hail Marys in an effort to prevent the worst by imagining all incarnations of it. Once the guilt has finished consuming you from the gut upward in its fiendish flames, it settles in quietly, rock-like, deep inside your person. Some mothers carry their neutron-star guilt in their stomachs perpetually churning with acid, others in their heads in the migraine spot right behind their eyes, but I, I carry mine in my heart. With every beat of my own I can feel the pulse, like an echo, of the hearts of each of my children. From their utmost beginning their hearts have beat inside me - how could I not still be swayed by their rhythm?

I shall tell you all the facts. There aren't many, it won't take long. Indeed, on the grand scale of parental mistakes this one is perhaps minor. But it is the thing that it represents that so wounds me: my ability to hurt my children even while doing my best to protect them. But I am ahead of myself.

Anyone who has had a baby, seen a baby, read about a baby or just happens to have breasts will know what a contentious topic breast feeding is. Breast is best! The zeal imbued into this cannot be overstated. It's healthier for both mom and baby - it is a magic elixir that prevents health problems now and in the future! Plus, it's free. And yet, knowing this as all of us breast-endowed women (and most men too, I'd wager) do, how is that the vast majority do not breast feed? Or if they do, they don't do it for long?

I'll tell you why. It's hard. It may be a natural process but it sure doesn't come naturally. At least it didn't for me. Nobody told me how much it would hurt - like rug burns with the scabs getting ripped off every 2-3 hours around the clock - until the baby's suckling finally turned my nipples into pencil erasers. Nobody told me of the yeast infections passed back and forth like some insane game of hot potato but where the winner gets their mouth painted purple with gentian violet. Nobody told me of the stage where infants turn piranha and, literally, bite the one that feeds them. Nobody warned me of the nursing strikes, the engorgement, the clogged ducts, the cumbersome nursing bras, the mastitis, the banning of all medicine except worthless Tylenol, the double pump milking machine that is so similar to the ones they use on cows that you can't help but moo, the spontaneous public let downs at the mere thought of my baby's cry. (On an airplane, wetting a stranger's head no less! The only thing that could have made that flight more perfect was if my last name were Joad.)

I don't tell you this to discourage you from ever nursing but rather, having been through all of this multiple times, to explain to you why nursing means so much to me. I have fought so hard to do this simplest of things. To be the mother who can feed her baby.

But now for the facts I promised you. The Jelly Bean was born hale and hearty at 8 1/2 pounds, by far my smallest baby but fairly large as babies in general go. She took to nursing right away and at first all seemed to go well. She was back up to her birth weight by two weeks, just as expected. She pooped and peed like a champ. But along about 3 months, something changed. She stopped gaining weight. The doctor wasn't overly concerned. "Bring her back in a month for another weigh-in." I did. But at that check-up and every check-up that has followed, her weight percentile has continued to drop. Eventually the doctor suggested a lactation consultant who in turn suggested a number things of which I all tried. While she still didn't gain any weight, I comforted myself that she was meeting all of her milestones and seemed happy and healthy in every other measurable way.

And then she weaned herself. Or perhaps my milk gave out. I think the problem might have started with my breasts. I began to notice her fussing when it came time to nurse and despite her frantic sucking, the milk would not let down. Eventually she stopped trying to suck all together, straight-arming me and crying whenever I laid her down to nurse. I, always stubborn, refused to let the nursing go. I went for days trying to keep feeding her only to continue to be rejected. Finally, after a particularly teary session on both our parts, I gave up and made her a bottle of formula. She didn't like that either. At my wit's end, I called the beleaguered pediatrician again who said I either had to get her nurse again or to take the formula and it had to be done now. My milk was finished. I enticed her to drink the bottle by adding a sprinkling of Strawberry Quik powder to it (desperate times call for artificially flavored measures!).

I am happy to say that Jelly Bean loves her formula now (and we no longer have to spike it with Quik to get her to drink it). I am also happy to report that in the few weeks she's been on formula her weight bounced up to the appropriate percentile quite quickly. All's well that ends well. Right?

Those are the facts. Now for the questions. Was my milk compromised because of my obsession with losing the baby weight? Was her failure to gain weight due to my early and intense return to exercise? Or because of my very restrictive diet? It was during those middle months of my being a no-wheat, no-dairy calorie-counting vegetarian that she lost the most ground. Was my tumble into sane eating too late? The question that haunts me: Did I sacrifice my daughter's health on the altar of my own vanity?

My guilt may be misplaced. There are other explanations, other narratives I could tell for this story. (At the very least, the process of weaning has called down a hellstorm of hormones that alone could account for my angst.) And yet the guilt gnaws at me. I carry their very lives in my hands - how could it not?

If you're a mom - how did nursing go for you? Were you able to nurse and exercise with no problems? If you aren't a mom, what do you have irrational guilt about? Or are you one of those rare women (whom I envy) that is impervious to guilt?

Tips for Losing the Baby Weight - That Really Work!

I am ten days past the scream-n-push Bodily Fluids Festival of '09 (Marilyn Manson should take notes) which means, of course, that it's time to talk about losing the baby weight. No, not because I'm feeling overly anxious about it - I'm too busy being anxious about being anxious! - but because I've gotten a ton of e-mails about it. Being officially The Nicest People on the Internet, none of you readers have been pressuring me but rather just wondering if I've found anything that works. Weight loss being the crapshoot that it is once you mix in genetics, socioeconomic status, general health, age and a host of other factors, nonetheless I have found a few tips that genuinely seem to make a difference. So far. (Please note I am only 10 days post partum and will not even come within five feet of my box of "normal" clothes yet.)

1. Have the baby. Okay, so that was a liiiiitle tongue-in-cheek but seriously when else in your life can you say, "I just lost 15 pounds in ONE DAY. Take THAT Jillian!"? Word.


Okay, from here on out, I'm serious. I swear.

2. Wear a belly wrap. I have a Taut (holla to also-momma-of-4 Brooke Burke!) but there is also the Belly Bandit, a host of medical compression bands and the low-tech-but-cheap Ace bandage method. At first blush, this seems like a bunch of hooey: Wear a big elastic belt and get a flatter stomach!! Except that many cultures have been doing exactly that for centuries. Women who have just given birth are in a special (read: anatomically freakish) place with their core. Your organs get all squished to weird places, your abdominal muscles detach from each other, all your ligaments get loose and your hips act as if they can't stand to be in the same room with each other. Using a compression belt helps bring everything back to its proper place and hold it there. My delivery nurse, a lovely woman from Trinidad, told me that the fact that Americans don't typically belly wrap after birth was a huge shock to her as everyone in her country did it and felt that not only was it more comfortable but it was medically advantageous. She was very impressed that I was doing it and even showed me a few tricks to use it properly (lay down when you put it on, start at the top and fasten it downward).

I'll admit I first bought the Taut hoping to flatten my abs faster after birth but when I first put it on in the hospital, I gotta tell you it felt good. Really good. It supported my back and my stomach and put just the right amount of pressure on my hips. The website also claims it helps the skin reattach and tighten up faster. Who cares if my stomach still looked 6-months pregnant? It felt awesome! And, yes, I honestly do think it has made my stomach flatter faster than it would have been otherwise. After having 5 children I feel like I'm in a position to compare. This is my first time using a compression band and I feel like this is the fastest my stomach has ever deflated. Besides - have I mentioned this already? - it feels so nice!

Downsides: it does make you sweaty, the velcro sticks to your underwear and can rip it, and they can be pricey. Also, just to manage your expectations, a belly wrap is not a corset or Spanx - it isn't meant to give you a smooth, flat silhouette. In fact, it looks a bit bulky under tight clothing but who's wearing tight clothing at this point, anyhow?

3. Eat your probiotics. This one works not just for preggos and post-preggos but for everyone. I first found this tip in Fit Pregnancy magazine in a blurb summarizing a research study that found that pregnant women who ate (or took via pill) probiotics every day had 47% less belly fat 6 months post-partum than women who didn't. You know I love my homemade yogurt so I figured this one wouldn't be hard to try. While the results are less easily observed in myself as a) I'm not 6-months post-partum yet and b) I'm a study of one, the original research was quite convincing and probiotics have been shown to help with not only weight loss but stomach health and even gum and dental health! Not to mention that yogurt - especially Greek yogurt - is a good source of protein and calcium. So unless you are lactose intolerant or allergic then this is probably one of those things that wouldn't hurt to try.

4. Lay off the intense exercise. At least at first. I've talked about this study before but research has found that initially for post-partum women, returning to intense exercise right away does not speed weight loss. Mostly I'm reiterating this here for my benefit, especially after Gym Buddy Krista threatened to roundhouse my butt if I returned to Turbokick too quickly. (And girlfriend kicks hard.)
5. Breastfeed? Pregnant women hear this advice ad nauseum (and really isn't there enough nausea already going on?): Breastfeed and the baby weight will melt away like magic! While breastfeeding does have a host of benefits for both mom and baby (my fave: it's free! I'm nothing if not cheap), the jury is still out on weight loss. For me in the past, I find that the weight comes off pretty easily in the first six months. That is until I get to the last 10 pounds. At which point my body decides it had better keep my thighs really well padded, you know, in case of famine or the need to double as Kim Kardashian. There is nothing I can do within the realms of good health to get those last 10 pounds off until I wean the little sucker. My goal this time around is to learn to enjoy my hips and boobs for the short time I actually have them rather than trying to fight those last ten pounds. That's what I have the rest of my life for, right?

For other women it is different though. I have one friend who actually complains that she gets too thin while nursing. Either way, they say nursing burns about 500 calories a day. Like a calorie deficit from exercise, your body strives to maintain equilibrium and will make you hungrier to compensate. (Seriously, you have not seen starving until you've seen me eat when my milk comes in. Small animals hide in fear.)
Conclusion
I am not not not telling anyone, no matter how pre- or post- or even non- partum you are, to worry about your weight. If you must worry, worry about being healthy. However, I know many of you girls think about this. I think about this! It's practically unavoidable in our culture. So I share these sensible tips less like a lose-weight cudgel to the head and more like a help-a-sister-out hug. Pregorexia is never a good idea.

Did I miss anything? Any of you have a great weight-loss tip?

Trendwatch: How to be "Skinny Pregnant"

Thanks to Laura for the pic!

It was awkward. And I have no one to blame but myself. There I was, surrounded by several of my good friends who took me out to remind me that I am actually a person and not just a non-exercising baby incubator, when this happened:

Friend: Oh you look so adorable! You're all belly!
Me: Oh no, really I've gained a ton of weight.
Friend 2: No! You look fabulous! Your face isn't puffy at all.
Me: It just looks that way because I straightened my hair. Trust me, it's puffy.
Friend 3: But your legs look great! Exactly how they do non-preggo!
Me: No, no, you're just distracted by my huuuuge belly. Once this is gone then you'll see how massive my thighs and hips have gotten!
Friend: (smacking me sharply and yelling) SHUT UP!

Actually she didn't smack me. They're all way too nice for that kind of Scarlett O'Hara dramatics (which is probably why we're friends) but they should have. I even annoyed myself. Many women, myself included, have a hard time accepting a compliment with a simple "thank you." ("What? Oh no, my hair isn't fabulous at all! And by the way I wear colored contacts, I have Spanx on underneath this dress and my house looks like it was cleaned by blind orcs with Lego diarrhea.") Not only does this tendency not go away with pregnancy but it seems to get worse. Why is this?

Because pregnancy makes even a normally confident gal insecure. And the rest of us who are normally insecure? Self-esteem havoc.

It shouldn't be this way. After all, we are performing a normal and some might even say necessary biological function. So why, after millenia of gestating and birthing, are women suddenly freaking out? I blame this:

Khloe Kardashian, famous for being the sister of a sex-tape star, recently got married and, natch, immediately had to field questions about future babies. She responded to the weirdly intrusive queries by saying,

"I want to be a skinny pregnant person, like how my sister Kourtney looks so cute pregnant. I can't be a house [after] I just lost weight." She adds, "Well, I am always fat no matter how much weight I lose. It's like I can never have a good body. But I have a really strong sense of self-esteem." (Charlotte's note: Sure you do, sweetie! That's why you and your strong self-esteem just launched a dubious diet aid!)

It's not just Khloe. It's Sarah Michelle Gellar's "stunning post-baby body just 1 month after birth!" It's Lisa Loeb (remember her??) "showing off her tiny baby bump." It's Trista Sutter's "Bikini Bod [only six months] after Baby Number Two!" Don't even get me started about Ellen Pompeo. At least Heidi Klum was honest about "exploding" at the end of her pregnancies - even if she is famous for losing all that baby weight and more in time to walk the Victoria's Secret fashion show mere weeks after giving birth. And those are just the top stories from this past week.

Ladies, in case you missed the memo, not only are you expected to be a MILF both while gestating and not (bring on the hawt pregnant chicks in bikinis!) but now you are also expected to be "skinny pregnant." This means of course that you gain exactly the weight of the baby plus the placenta and amniotic fluid and not one ounce more. Your hips should not widen. Your butt should not expand. Your arms must remain perfectly defined. And your cheeks, while they should "glow," should not be round.

There was a reason that Mary, of immaculate conception fame, was described by her bible biographers as being "heavy" or "great" with child. Skinny Pregnant is an oxymoron!

And yet, weirdly, I have internalized this message as much as anyone. I hate to admit it but I do feel really fat. And it depresses me. Enter Claire Mysko and Magali Amadei, the authors of Does This Pregnancy Make Me Look Fat?, with their sensible girlfriend advice on how to be a healthy pregnant woman in our skinny pregnant girl culture. I got this book in the mail not one moment too soon and read the whole thing in one afternoon. My only complaint was that there wasn't more of it! When I finished I wanted to run after them and fling myself around their ankles crying, "Don't leave me alone in this!" This book has tips on everything from how to deal with pregnancy weight gain when you have a history of eating disorders to snarky retorts for nosy people who insist on asking you ridiculous questions like "How quickly do you plan on losing the baby weight?" (Answer: I plan on losing it in one week! Sadly, in the immortal words of Winona Ryder, reality bites.) I think I just found my new favorite baby shower gift.

I know I'm not the only pregnant woman who struggles with body image issues. Lisa of Workout Mommy - due just a few weeks after me (read: I will pluck my nosehairs with baby nail clippers if you have your baby first, girl!) - recently wrote a very poignant post about her pregnant body image issues and the help she also found in this book.

What do you guys think about the pressure to be thin, even while pregnant? If you have had kids, how did you manage your fears about your body changing? If you haven't had kids, does the fear of getting fat hold you back?

Confessions of a Pregnant Compulsive Exerciser

Yeah, this poster has a typo. Several actually. Kids these days.

I have the feeling that eventually this will be one of those Turning Points in my life that I'll talk about later with great insight. But living it thus far has felt anything but profound. Unless you mean profoundly depressing.

Backstory: Wednesday morning I did Turbokick, per my usual. Halfway through the class, the little girls' room called and I headed out. There was blood, people. A lot of blood. Which is never a good thing when you are pregnant, much less eight months pregnant. Trying not to panic, I raced back into the studio, grabbed my stuff and headed for the nearest stairwell to call my doctor. (The stairwell because the Y has a no-cell-phone policy and I was not having this conversation in the lobby.)

I was on the phone with the nurse and the receptionist for about 5 minutes and on hold for 15 minutes listening to their delightful conver-adver-tisements. (What ever happened to muzak? At least then I can get my James Taylor fix without the embarrassment of having him show up on my iPod. Come on, everyone needs to go "to Carolina in their mind" sometimes!) At first they said they couldn't see me that day. Um, whaaa? Did I sound too calm or something? But then I told them I was coming in anyhow. Right now. And camping out until somebody saw me. Which is exactly what I did, right after grabbing my kids and bribing them with an entirely scandalous amount of sugar to walk fast and stop asking questions.

Condensed for the squeamish: The baby is fine. I am fine. The doctor concluded that the blood was from either an infection of some sort or "trauma" brought on by my, um, exercise routine. Unfortunately, there was too much blood (!) to test for an infection without sending it out for a culture. So to be safe my doctor decided to treat it as both. I'm on a one-week course of antibiotics. I'm also forbidden to exercise - at all - until the baby is born. When I started quizzing my doctor on what exactly that entailed ("Can I lift weights?" "No." "Yoga?" "No." "Walking??" "Not if it involves a track or a treadmill.") I received a very stern lecture. While she was treating the possible infection she said given my history - she was the one who diagnosed my suppressed thyroid from compulsively over exercising, after all - and what I'd been doing that morning and the fact that I had no pain, she rather thought the bleeding was brought on by... too much strenuous exercise.

I know. I did it again. I can't believe it either.

My first reaction was total denial. (Okay, my firstfirst reaction was a lot of mental cursing and not of "the little green apples" variety.) I indignantly told her that it's not like my body isn't used to this level of exercise and I exercised through my last pregnancy with no problems and I was trying to keep the intensity low and and and... And then I realized: blood is blood. First it was pneumonia and now this. I think my body might be trying to tell me something. Yes, other women run marathons up until their due date. But they are not me. And for whatever reason, my body needs me to slow down.

My next reaction was to get really depressed alternating with self-flagellation. How selfish/silly/insane am I to possibly jeopardize my baby (who is fine by all accounts - they checked) just because I'm too stubborn to listen to my own body? How many times do I have to butt my head against this wall? Where are my priorities??

Today I'm trying to be practical. What this means is that with 6 remaining weeks of pregnancy + a couple of weeks recovery, I have at least a good two months off of exercise. Yes I'm going to miss the first Turbo Jam that my YMCA finally gets to host. Yes I'm going to miss the new releases in my favorite classes. Yes I'm going to gain fat and lose muscle and yes that totally freaks me out. And yes I'm really really going to miss all my friends at the gym.

What I realized today is that I don't know who I am anymore without exercise to define me. And maybe it's about time I figure that out. For my daughter's sake.

PS> Prayers are always appreciated, if you are the praying sort:)

The Cure for Compulsive Over Exercise

This is what happens when you tell me you "have to go number 2" 10 minutes after we passed the last gas station for 100 miles.

My Summer Vacation
by Charlotte Andersen

I learned a lot of things on my summer vacation:

1. Not only do my kids not like audio books, it turns out my husband and I do not like them either. Narrators are boring compared to the voices in my head! They all talk funny. And slow.
2. There are 17 different Jen/Jennie/Jennifers in my cell phone but not a single Jenny - a strange factoid I discovered when we went 4 hours straight without a cell phone signal. Apparently I still feel the need to fondle the little gadget even if I can't use it. But hey, I have the neatest contacts list in the Midwest ever. And you should see my wallpaper!
3. I cannot tell the difference between Iowa and Ohio. My apologies to any of you who may live in those states. If it makes you feel any better, before I moved here Minnesota and Michigan were all part of the same cheese curd to me.

Oh, and I learned I can go nine straight days without formal exercise! As a compulsive exerciser, this is a big deal. A really big deal. A deal of Mount Rushmore-ian (we passed South Dakota, hey-o!) proportions.

The day before we embarked on our 7-states-in-two-weeks Trip O' Fun & Family (& Gas Station Bathrooms), I was chatting on the phone with my sister.

"So are you going to get up early and run every day like you normally do?" she asked more by way of conversation than curiosity. My dedication to my fanatical exercise is legendary in my family. I assuage my guilt for eating my brother's deliciously sinful chocolate zucchini cake and they get ample time to talk about me. Plus nothing beats watching the sun rise over the Rocky Mountains. Win-win!

This year was going to be different though. "Nope," I said trying to sound calm.

"Oh yeah, it hurts to run now, I remember. So you're going to kickbox? Power walk? Find a local park and Monkey Bar Gym all over it?"

"Nope."

"Nothing?" she sounded rightfully incredulous.

"Nothing organized. Not even yoga," I said firmly.

This year - without announcing it here first because I wasn't sure if I could stick to it and I'm wussy like that - I decided I was going to make my annual vacation an exercise vacation as well. All the experts agree that taking regular breaks from exercise is good for you. Elite athletes do it but you don't have to be Michael Phelps to benefit from a long(ish) period of active rest and relaxation.

Smart people build these breaks guilt-free into their workout schedule but in the past five years the only time I've ever taken a break was under doctor's orders. You remember what happened last year. And even then it was never longer than a week. True story: after my last baby was born, I was so anxious to get back into shape that I packed the little sucker into a carrier at two days old and headed for the treadmill at my gym. They kicked me out. Turns out there are rules against walking on treadmills with fragile infants strapped to your chest. Who knew?

One of the hallmarks of compulsive over exercising is the inability to take breaks. As opposed to exercise for the sake of joy and health, the routine becomes fear-based and unhealthy. I'd like to say that pregnancy cured me of my compulsion. While it nipped the two-a-day workouts in the bud midway through the first trimester and has caused me to modify my workouts, I still felt bound to my every day exercise routine even when my body was exhausted (growing a placenta is remarkably hard work!) and really wasn't up for it. I couldn't take a break.

And then came my vacation. I was Burned Out. In every aspect of my life. So I decided to make it a total vacation: no blogging, Internet surfing or reading about fitness and... no exercise. At least, no planned exercise. I packed my cross trainers - we were headed to the mountains after all - but I left all my other exercise stuff at home (even my sports bra!) to remove the temptation. It worked! Sure, I played a couple of heart-pumping games of frisbee and did some day hiking and swimming but I was so busy enjoying being with my family and friends (and trying to contain three little boys bent on throwing themselves off the nearest waterfall) that I was able to squelch that little knot of anxiety that formed in my stomach a couple of times a day, particularly at meal times.

I didn't work out and I didn't restrict my food. In case you missed the memo: The world did not end.

It felt good. Still, I was nervous coming home. Even though we got in at 2:30 in the morning after driving for 16 straight hours, I still went to the gym that same day for an hour of Body Pump (remarkably versatile class when you're pregnant!). Perhaps that wasn't smart. Or maybe it was okay. I'm not sure. I'm still thinking about my relationship to exercise. But at least now I know that I can (not) do it.

Oh, and I learned one more thing: Despite being gone nearly two weeks, my gym has not got one single new magazine. Do they not realize I have gone for two whole weeks without knowing who Jon Gosselin is dating?!? Priorities, people.

That's what I learned on my summer vacation - it's all about your priorities.

What do you do? Do you regularly schedule rests into your workout schedule? Do you just let life tell you when to rest? Anyone else unable to take a workout break? Or are you a recovered exercise addict? All suggestions welcome!

And to thank you all for waiting for me I have an exciting Week of Giveaways lined up! Next week, every day, I'll be giving stuff away. Good stuff too! Monday kicks off with a $100 gift card to Dick's Sporting Goods so be sure to check back in.

Now I want to hear all about your summer vacations! Off to catch up on your blogs.

Yeah, we wear dresses and ties when we camp - don't you??

New Research: A Distorted Self Image Linked to Weight Gain

I read FitPregnancy. It seems slightly silly to me, this being my fifth (I'm a breeder!) pregnancy and all and yet I'm still drawn by the lure of Build An Entire Maternity Wardrobe Out of 5 Simple Pieces (of clothing I could never afford) and essays by professional athletes who do two-hour trail runs when 9 months pregnant (despite the fact that I can barely chug out a mile these days). One thing never fails to catch my eye: research. While most of it only pertains to preggos - apparently swimming at least once a week helps you use less pain meds during delivery (okay, universe, I hear you!) - there was a piece of general interest today.

I don't have the exact quote but the research blurb stated that women who are of a normal weight but perceive themselves to be overweight gain twice as much weight as women who can correctly identify their body type. Overweight or obese women who perceive themselves to be of a normal weight or underweight gain eight times the amount of weight of a woman who can correctly identify her body type.

Genetics, friends, social pressure, media influences, and family are all factors in weight gain that are often discussed but this was the first time that I have come across research that says a distorted body image causes you to gain weight. And it doesn't matter whether you think you weigh less than or more than you actually do - apparently any distortion causes a measure of weight gain!

The implication is that no matter what your weight, if you are honest with yourself about it then you will gain less weight over time. It's so simple and yet so hard to do!

The magazine blurb being annoyingly short, it did not attempt to explain these results. My first question is do the women with the distorted body image really believe that they are heavier/lighter? Or are they knowingly lying to themselves? If they do truly believe what they told researchers then perhaps that indicates a measure of body unawareness that would correlate to food intake. On the other hand, if they are willing to lie to themselves about their weight then perhaps they also are willing to lie to themselves about food intake. My personal theory - unsupported, of course, by anything but my own eating disordered past to draw from - is that women who are uncomfortable with their body have an uncomfortable relationship with food.

I'll admit that I have a difficult time being honest with myself about my body. If you show me one of those body-type lineups (as they often do as part of eating disorder therapy) and ask me to pick the one that most closely resembles me, I always end up picking one bigger than myself. According to this research, that puts me at risk of gaining double the pregnancy weight of a woman without my mental issues. Scary stuff for someone who is terrified of gaining weight!

How about you - are you able to be honest with yourself about your body type? Have you noticed a correlation between a distorted self-image and weight gain? Anyone else have a shameful magazine addiction??

Weight Gain in Pregnancy: What's Normal and What's Just Celebrities

It's official: I am half way done with my pregnancy! With 20 weeks under my metaphorical belt - like I could get an actual belt on these days - and perhaps less to go if the universe loves me, I feel pretty excited about this milestone. As I'm looking obviously pregnant now, there are many upsides - I'm starting to look cute in maternity clothes, hopefully we'll find out the gender soon (my ultrasound is on the 30th) and I get to park in the mother-to-be parking spots without feeling guilty. (Side note: pregnant women do not need special parking spots, really. You know who does? New moms. The baby is relatively easy to carry as long as it's tucked in your abdomen but add colic, a car seat, a diaper bag and older siblings and you need valet parking just to go to the grocery store. Seriously.)

Gym Buddy Sunny & I at the most recent Hip Hop Hustle YouTube taping! Love my sparkly Cons? Yeah, me too.

But the baby bump has one serious downside: everyone feels they need to comment on it. Now, normally I don't mind an affectionate pat, even from a stranger, or a "look at you!" but this conversation was a bit much:

Lady #1: Oh, look at your tummy! It's HUGE! I can't believe how big you've gotten! And almost overnight too!

Lady #2: No, no, she's not huge - she's itty bitty. I can barely see her little bump!

Lady #1: Are you serious? Look at her! It sticks out like a mile!

Lady #2: What? She's tiny! I was twice as big as she was when I was pregnant.

Lady #1: Not me! I wore my regular jeans right up until delivery - just had to ride 'em low.

They had this conversation in front of me. The truth is that I'm exactly normal for 20 weeks along. My fundus - that's the supercool name for the top of your uterus (For a fun party trick, walk up to someone and say, "Wanna see my fundus?" You may get slapped or they may buy you drinks for the rest of the night - that's where the fun comes in!) - measures right on for the baby's gestation. So I'm actually not big nor am I small. I'm just a normal pregnant girl.


This conversation though is a perfect example of how skewed our society's perceptions have become when it comes to pregnancy. Normally I blame celebrities with their ridiculous 3-week post-partum slim downs and crazy fish diets but today I'm actually going to agree with them. It turns out that even celebrities with perfect bodies are not immune from this group madness.

Heidi Klum, the woman who makes pregnancy look downright chic, was recently quoted as saying - unapologetically! - “I’m bigger than I should be, but I always gain 40-45 pounds, so I still have a ways to go.” (For those of you who don't keep track of all things uterine, doctors recommend an average woman gain 5-25 pounds.) This made me want to run up and kiss Heidi right on her "big" bump - the bump which will magically disappear 4 weeks post-partum despite it being her fourth kid but I'll be depressed over that one later- and cheer, "Right on, sister! Me too!" Even supermodels gain weight!

Jenna Jameson, now more famous for birthing twins than for her extensive porn career, was recently targeted by TMZ for having "wide hips." This may be the first time in my life I've ever found myself in the same camp as Jenna Jameson - especially when it comes to feminist issues - but girlfriend's got a good point! And, for the record, tiny hips. Here's her surprisingly rational response:

"I was pretty heated about the thought of this random chick saying I looked WIDE… Seriously… this is the ultimate example of girl on girl HATING. I mean, I had twins 4 months ago!!!! Its crazy to me that a fellow woman would feel the need to bash my hips… when most women would relate to the fact that I spent the past year building two perfect little humans. Does the circumference of my hips really matter? Should that even be discussed? It truly makes me sick to my stomach that this woman felt the need to pick my body apart when just barely 18 months ago TMZ was BASHING me for being TOO skinny! This is why women have such massive body issues… I have worked very hard to be healthy… and that is all that matters, not the size of my booty!"

As Jenna demonstrates, the public judgement with pregnancy weight gain continues on with even more fervor to post-baby weight loss. I can't tell you how many times I've already been asked how fast I "plan" on losing the baby weight. (Any parent will tell you that babies laugh - and then spit up - in the face of any so-called plans.) All I can say is that in the past I have lost most of the weight within about six months but those last 10 or so pounds will not budge until I wean the little nipper. I know what they say about breast-feeding melting the pounds away but it just isn't true for me. My body seems to think it needs to store the extra milk in my thighs and hips. And so be it. I have very healthy kids so it would seem my body knows what it is doing.

While not as hot a topic as weight gain, pre- and post-natal exercise also garners a lot of attention. Thanks to the wonder of the second trimester, I am feeling pretty energetic and back to all my workouts full force - albeit with some modifications. No more bow pose or reclining ab work for me! This hiatus in the woes of pregnancy will be relatively brief though as I know from experience that the third trimester will knock me right back down on my ample butt.

A recent study addresses a common myth of pre- and especially post-natal exercise: that intense, vigorous exercise is the best thing to take off extra weight. It turns out that, "Exercise is important when people are overweight, but after pregnancy, a lot of exercise does not necessarily help a great deal. The Institute summarised the research evidence about the best ways to lose weight after childbirth. The evidence shows that a balanced diet helps – with or without extra exercise. Very strenuous exercise programmes soon after childbirth did not lead to extra weight loss. This means that women do not need to have a bad conscience if they take it easy in the busy weeks after giving birth."

So there you have it - from the mouths of celebrities and researchers - you have permission to take it easy, be kind to yourself and, most importantly, focus on growing and caring for a healthy, happy baby!

Wow, is my bathroom mirror ever dirty!

The Problem With Being a People Pleaser

This would also be good reason for a freak-out.

And now for an interruption in our regularly scheduled programming (I owe you a dissertation on poo, I know.) The following is an announcement from the Emergency Charlotte Broadcast System. This is not a test. I repeat, this is not a test. (And it's not a Thursday re-run today either.)

So I had my first official meltdown of this pregnancy today. Truth to be told I've been building up to it for a while now. A lot of you in the past have asked me how a girl with an eating disorder history and serious body image issues handles pregnancy and I've answered truthfully that each pregnancy was different. The second and fourth ones were pretty blissful. The third one was a nightmare. This one, it appears, is going to be rocky. I went into it a tad blithely as my last pregnancy (with my 3rd son) was pretty good in this respect. And it helped that I didn't gain much weight - about 25 pounds - and so even up until the end people were still telling me I looked small.

I naively thought this time around would be the same. But it isn't. Right away I gained 10 pounds which freaked me out. And I've continued to gain weight steadily to the point where I now have a very pregnant belly. I'm still not wearing maternity clothes but that's only out of sheer stubbornness.

Back to this morning. For months now, I've been complaining to my long-suffering husband that I'm gaining weight much faster than the last go around and for months he's been dismissive. But this morning my dear one rolled over and looked at me and said, "You know, you're right. You are getting a lot bigger a lot faster." Now before you think him hugely insensitive, this is the man who rubs my back every day and brings me popsicles and even cleaned up the mess when our 5-year-old decided that pooping in the wastebasket would be "funner" than using the toilet. Apparently the walls, floor, rug and doorknob were also "funner." Besides, my husband was only telling the truth. Seeing my distraught look he quickly added, "But I still love you!"

That's all it took to send me into a tailspin. After he left for work, I cried. Then cried some more after I got the older two on the school bus. And then took a nap and cried a bit more. The worst part? I can't figure out why I care. So what if I am bigger? (And no it's not twins, they checked.) The baby is healthy by all accounts. I'm healthy - at least physically, mentally may be another story. Isn't that all a mom can ask for? Why is my body shape and size so important to me?

After mulling this over all day between eating half a watermelon unassisted and a few crying jags, the best answer I could come up with was, "I always have." For as long as I can remember I have always, always cared what I weighed and what I looked like. It wasn't a case of vanity. I've never been conventionally pretty. I clean up all right but I'm no beauty. On the rare occasions that men have been overtly attracted to me (and not just using me as a pawn in their power games) they've been more drawn to other aspects of me. Which is good because pretty doesn't last and blah, blah, blah. Perhaps that's part of why I care so much - I can't make myself pretty but I sure can make myself thin! But that still doesn't answer the question of why my appearance in general is so important to me.

Another reason that partly explains why being thin is so important to me is that especially for women, beauty is power. When you are pretty - or at least thin - not only do people treat you better but they find you smarter and more trustworthy and credible and funny. All without really knowing anything about you. Think of all the women in our society who are successful in realms not directly dealing with appearance (so exclude models, actresses, etc.). Now think of how we talk about them. Michelle Obama is one of the most visible and prominent first ladies of our time; she has a law degree; she is the mother to two bright daughters. What do we hear most about her? What designer she is wearing or how she got her sculpted arms or even Iman calling her unbeautiful. Condoleeza Rice? Secretary of State, shemecretary - did you know she has designer taste in boots? And had time to fit in Parisian shopping trips between trips to the UN? Even Hillary Clinton who has worked very hard to not make her looks an issue was first acclaimed for her prettiness and then pilloried for "letting" herself age. We women even use it against each other. We can do everything right but still not be "successful" unless we're thin.

But that still doesn't explain why I have let myself get sucked into this cultural nonsense. Until I hit on this idea: I'm a people pleaser. And one of the fastest and easiest ways to please someone is to conform to their standard of beauty. So if people like me more when I'm thinner and prettier, then that means they will like me less as I get bigger and therefore uglier. When you look at it from the perspective of being loved - after all, isn't that what we all want? - then it seems very clear why this issue is so soul destroying for me. I can't help that I'm getting fatter. I eat healthy. I exercise every day. My body is doing what it needs to, I suppose. Which means to me that people - the people I care most about - won't love me anymore and there isn't anything I can do about it. And since I seem to have no self-esteem, then I won't love myself either. Seen from this light, restricting food actually seems like the lesser of the evils. Lose the love and respect of those around me or just lose the food? The answer is easy now. And scary.

See? Depressing.

In all fairness, I think that most of my friends and family will strongly object to my, frankly brutal, assessment of the capricious and shallow nature of their love. After all, that is quite insulting to them, is it not? And yet, I've seen this born out in my life before. I don't think it's a conscious thing - nobody actually cogitates "Huh, Charlotte's not as cute anymore therefore I like her less." - but some people do pull away from me the less I please them. Not everyone. But some will. Although I suppose it could be a self-fulfilling prophecy as well. I expect people to love me less so I pre-emptively pull away from them thereby making my own worst fear come true.

I do realize that the problem, regardless of what other people do, is ultimately in my own head.

Doesn't the child that I'm doing this all for deserve a mother who can teach him - or, heaven help me, her - that they are lovable just by their very existence? I certainly believe that about my children already here. I would never love them any less no matter what they look like. So why can't I love myself that way?

I hate it when I get self indulgent like this.

Image credit: Natalie Dee

Fit Pregnancy: Done With the First Trimester!

I'm 14 weeks pregnant today which means that not only am I officially second trimester now but I'm also the proud mama to a lemon. Yes, the Jelly Bean has moved up the random food scale used by Baby Center to describe the various fetus stages from junk food to something healthier although I can't help but wonder about the lemon/bad car analogy. Anyhow, just like all the books say, most of my nausea is gone (haven't barfed in two weeks!) and I'm starting to get some energy back. I'm also able to feel the baby move on occasion - yeah it's early but that's the bonus to this being my 5th pregnancy! - and I'm 90% sure it's not gas. We've also got all the preliminary genetic testing back and everything looks good! My doctor says we can rule out Turner's Syndrome, the genetic disorder that killed our first daughter. So many things to be happy about!

And yet. The one feeling that now predominates my pregnancy is... fat. I know. There's a baby in there. But I don't think it's right to be carrying half on each thigh and the placenta on my hips unless I'm birthing a magician's assistant. No, for some reason my body seems to gain pregnancy weight - and boy howdy did I gain weight, 10 pounds for the first tri alone (you're supposed to gain 0) - in my legs, hips and face before it really shows up on my stomach.

Speaking of my stomach, it too is playing mind games with me. Here I am at 9 a.m. right before yoga class (forgive the lack of makeup and bed head):












And here I am at 6 p.m. THE SAME DAY. (Yeah, I'm still not wearing makeup nor have I done my hair. Your point is...?)












It's like I advanced two months of pregnancy in 9 hours. I blame this on my slowed digestive system which makes me about six-months-preggo bloated by the end of the day. Needless to say, pooping has become an endurance sport in its own right.

All of which means that I'm in the "fat" stage of pregnancy. You know all those darling pregnant women you see in maternity ads? They're all permanently arrested at 6 months gestation because that is the point when all your maternity clothes fit cute and yet you're not retaining water like the Hoover Dam. Before that, you look more chubby than preggo and after that, well, let's just say that there will be a time when you wake up with at least a month still to go and even your biggest maternity shirt only comes 3/4 of the way down your belly.

I'd be lying if I didn't say that feeling fat all the time isn't depressing. The miracle of growing a new life doesn't totally quiet all the crazy voices in my head. I wish I were one of those women who loved being pregnant and "glowed" and only gained weight in her tummy. But alas I am not. It sucks but at least the lemon is still juicing. Okay, that made no sense. What I mean is that I'm grateful the baby is doing well and I'll shut up now about my low self-esteem.

Exercise in The First Trimester
For the duration of the first tri I managed to not miss a single workout although I did gross out random bystanders by throwing up a few times at the gym. I am quite proud to say I made it to the bathroom every time. Thank heavens for mints!

However, merely showing up for the workout does not mean they went really well. Every day the Gym Buddies were subjected to a litany of "I'm too tiiiirrrred! I'm soooore everywheeerrrre!" I'm lucky they are all such loving folks. Weight lifting felt harder and so I kept all my weight loads the same, not increasing anything but my whining. Cardio also was hard as running felt like I was wading through mud and I went from being able to sprint a mile in under 6 minutes to wheezing like my 90-year-old grandmother with emphysema just from walking up the stairs. It was not good for my ego or my butt.

Yoga, however, has felt amazing and I'm hoping to add another day of it. I'm also still enjoying the high-impact lovin' of TurboKick as it helps keep my mind off the pain. The transition into the second tri has been a little weird. Take Thursday - I felt great, managing to run 3 miles on the treadmill at an 8:30 pace (the last mile at 7!) and then doing fitness yoga for an hour followed by a nice long walk and that night Taekwando class with my kids for an hour. And then came Friday. I could barely drag myself through 45 minutes of cardio and then laid - yes, literally - on the stretching mats for an hour during which various people came over to ask me if I was okay. One good Buddy even offered to fireman-carry me out to my car, as he thought I looked too shaky to make it on my own. I would have taken him up on it too, if it weren't for my darn pride.

Exercise Goals For The Second Tri
"Pride" pretty much sums up what I learned about exercise in the first tri. As in, you have to have none. Truly, every pregnant woman and every pregnancy is different. I know this and yet I still try and hold myself to some crazy standard - even the standard of my own past pregnancies (I've never gained weight in the first tri before). And perhaps my compulsive exercising is again rearing its ugly head? Case in point: I read a magazine article about an elite distance runner who didn't even realize she was pregnant until she was 5 months along and only then because her split times were becoming abnormally slow so her trainer sent her to the doctor. I am not like this. My running shorts got tight the second the stick turned pink. And even if they hadn't, my decrease in endurance would have tipped me off within several weeks - if the puking or the exhaustion or the chipmunk cheeks hadn't clued me in first. And yet, just because I'm not like her or Rachel on Friends (whose belly was fake anyhow!) or even my old friend who just Facebooked me to tell me she's 36 weeks and still running 4 miles a day, doesn't mean I'm not enough. I have to accept that my best is all I can ask of myself.

What I need to learn: There is no shame in listening to your body and slowing down when you need to. My goal for the next trimester? Be kinder to myself.

How are the rest of you preggos doing? Anyone have suggestions of how to be gentle with yourself even when (especially when) you're feeling like a cow? Any tips for dealing with body image issues while pregnant?

Pregnancy Weight Gain Guidelines Revised

Nothing says fun like taking your 5-year-old in for his kindergarten checkup, i.e. The Checkup That Requires Shots. (Bonus points for bringing along a tantruming 2-year-old who is missing his nap!) So it was in this frame of mind that I was looking for a little diversion, magazine style. My choices were the regional magazine, Mnpls/St Paul, which as far as I can tell is 256 pages of advertisements with an additional 4 pages of advertisements featuring "local" models 'cause actual articles might impede all the advertising they are trying to do; Family Fun, which really ought to be titled Mother Guilt (Now in color!); and Fit Pregnancy. I, naturally, picked up the latter.

There I was, giggling over all the questions sent in by neurotic first-time moms (Question: "My baby was born two weeks early, should I wait an extra two weeks to start him on solid foods - just to be safe???" Their answer: Why wait? Feeding solids is fun!! My answer: Feeding solids is a huge pain but I wouldn't worry one way or the other - if your baby isn't ready, he or she will just spit it back in your face. They're not masters of subtlety at that age.), when I came across an article called Too Much Mama. The premise of the article is that obesity in mothers causes a whole host of health problems for both the mother and the baby, fantastically illustrated with a story about a poor obese woman whose placenta exploded and had to deliver her baby early (thankfully they both survived and are healthy). The article pretty much comes right out and blames her weight for the placental failure. I'm not saying the health risks aren't real but, really, how common are exploding internal organs?!

As if that isn't enough to give any woman, gestating or not, nightmares, the article segues neatly into how the IOM (the government's Institute of Medicine) is in the process of revising the weight gain guidelines for pregnancy saying that the current ones are too high. They even give you a handy little chart where you can look up your current BMI and it will tell you the old guidelines and then the new guidelines. (Maddeningly, the chart is not included when you click thru the above link.)

For me, a woman of normal weight with a "healthy" BMI, they used to say to gain 25-35 pounds. Which seemed about right to me. That's about the range I gained during all four of my pregnancies and all of my kids were born happy and healthy (save for the first one, who died of genetic complications not at all related to my weight). However, the revised guidelines say I and all other normal-BMI women should gain - are you ready for this? - 5-22 pounds. FIVE FREAKING POUNDS?!? My babies all by their little butterball selves weighed in on average at 10 pounds each. What about my placenta and growing uterus and the fact that my blood supply has to double? And don't forget the visit from the Titty Fairy in which I gain at least two pounds in each boob. Will no one think of my breasts?!?


I was so upset about it that I took the article in to the pediatrician's office with me and after my son's exam was over (but before the shots - I'm not crazy) asked her about it. She looked bewildered for a moment and then said she hadn't heard about the revisions although they "sounded reasonable" to her. Upon seeing my face purple with apoplexy, she added hastily "but then I don't have any children."

In case you are curious, if you are "overweight" according to the BMI scale, then you are advised to gain 0-15 pounds. "Obese" women are broken down into 3 categories of obesity with category I women gaining 0-9 pounds, category II women gaining nothing at all and category III women are actually advised to go on a diet and lose about 9 pounds. While pregnant.

I do realize that some women lose weight while pregnant - my sis-in-law did it - and I'm certainly not knocking that if that is what they and their doctors decide is the best plan. But it seems highly irresponsible to mandate a woman lose weight while she's pregnant. In my mind that sets up a whole host of problems that could be damaging to the health of the mother and child in an entirely different way.


So my gut reaction is to tell the IOM to take their revised recommendations and do something very impolite with them. But then the little part of my brain that loves nothing more than science wonders if perhaps they know something we don't? After all, they do have access to years and years of research and data and medical files. Also, in generations previous, women have been advised to gain only about 15 pounds per singleton pregnancy. So maybe this is like portion control - just creeping up on us over the years until we don't realize what we've done?

And then the other other part of me (split personalities hereby acknowledged) thinks that women have been getting knocked up, gestating and birthing babies since, oh, the beginning of time. Maybe all the scientists should shut it and just let us do our thing. In the meantime they can work on a cure for breast cancer because that runs in my family and you know I'm already freaking out about it.


What are your thoughts on the new guidelines? How much weight did you gain in your pregnancies? If you've never been pregnant, how does it sit with you to have someone telling you in advance that you can't eat ice cream even if you've been puking all day long and it's the only thing that sounds remotely good to you? And if you don't have a uterus, well, um, how's your prostate doing? Eat your lycopene today??