Just after my Cesarean incision was stitched up following the birth of my first child, my OBGYN—a remarkably kind and accomplished woman who speaks multiple languages, has developed robotic surgeries, and resembles a beauty queen—leaned in close and reassured me, “Don’t worry,” she said in her soothing French accent. “The incision is very low. You’ll be able to wear a bikini.”
I chuckled to myself, “Thank goodness! What would I have done if I couldn’t wear a bikini?” Then, I replied, “Doc, you knew me before my pregnancy. I wasn’t wearing a bikini then, and I certainly won’t be wearing one now.”
When I first started contemplating pregnancy, I was a size 22/24. Even without formal training, I understood that carrying a baby at that size could pose health risks. So, I committed to improving my health through exercise and joined Weight Watchers, ultimately losing 42 pounds. Despite my efforts, I was still classified as overweight at a size 16/18. Excited about my growing family, I attended my first OB appointment, only to have my enthusiasm dampened when the doctor advised me to limit weight gain to 10-15 pounds throughout my pregnancy.
My body craved—no, demanded—brownie sundaes, and I indulged in one daily. I’m talking about a brownie no larger than a deck of cards with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Most of the time, I tried to maintain a healthy diet. However, as the weeks rolled by and the weight gradually increased, my OB inquired about my eating habits. I honestly described my balanced meals but admitted to my daily treat. The petite doctor suggested, “Why not just eat a bite of a brownie?”
“Doc,” I replied, “I’m doing my best, but if I want a brownie, I’m going to have one.”
“Okay, what about just an eighth of a brownie?” she asked.
Who realistically consumes an eighth of a brownie?
During my second trimester, my husband and I took to mall walking. As I strolled and window-shopped, I gazed into Victoria’s Secret, where models with seemingly perfect bodies adorned the windows. My reflection caught my eye, and I thought, “Wow! I’m enormous!” At five-and-a-half months pregnant, I didn’t look like a glowing mother-to-be; instead, I resembled an overstuffed bag of jelly. I didn’t show any signs of pregnancy until I was seven months along. Fortunately, at work, I didn’t have to hide my pregnancy; to my coworkers, it seemed I had been indulging in frequent, passionate encounters with my beloved ice cream.
By the time I reached 40 weeks in August, I waddled through the grocery store preparing for a family picnic. Women passing by cast sympathetic glances, and one approached to express her concern: “Oh, you look so uncomfortable. I remember when I was pregnant with twins.”
Overwhelmed, I broke down in tears right there in the condiments aisle, exclaiming, “There’s only one baby! I’m just fat and pregnant!” The woman hurried away, and my husband rushed to apologize.
Yes, I may have overreacted, but I was exhausted, in pain, and feeling enormous. This was the second time that day someone had made the twins comment.
Despite the warnings about potential complications due to my weight, my pregnancies were surprisingly uneventful. I watched friends who were fit and slim struggle with infertility while I had no issues. A colleague, who was athletic and health-conscious, developed gestational diabetes—not me. I saw others face high blood pressure and preterm births, but I avoided those challenges. I did go eight days past my due date and had Cesarean sections, but I was fortunate to recover quickly and without complications.
My son was born weighing 8 pounds and 15 ounces, adorably chubby with rolls. The next morning, I was eager to weigh myself, anticipating a significant loss due to giving birth. Imagine my shock when I found I had gained two pounds! The IV fluids had transformed me into a marshmallow.
Ultimately, my three children were all delightful, healthy babies with their own rolls of chub and rosy cheeks. It turns out that larger mothers can deliver larger babies, often leading to quicker nights of sleep. All three of my children began sleeping through the night for twelve hours by nine weeks old. Though I still appear six months pregnant seven months postpartum, my little girl is peacefully snoozing in her crib while I enjoy a well-deserved eight hours of rest.
And let me tell you, that feeling is much better than being skinny!
For more valuable insights on home insemination and pregnancy, check out our related articles and resources on the topic, such as this one from the CDC and this authority on fertility. Additionally, you can find more information on home insemination techniques for those considering their options.
Summary:
The journey of pregnancy can be uniquely challenging for individuals with higher body weights. This article shares a personal account of navigating pregnancy while managing weight-related concerns, cravings, and societal expectations. Despite facing judgments and health warnings, the author highlights the joy of motherhood and the surprising outcomes of her pregnancies, emphasizing that love and care for one’s children outweigh societal standards.