Growing up I was lean and enjoyed being active and fit. I watched my friends in high school and college worry about their weight as they tried the latest fad diets. I didn’t think much about it and ate when I was hungry and moved because I loved it. I stayed with this mindset until after I had my third baby. I was in my thirties and my body had changed and started to hold onto weight in new ways. This was the first time I really had to work to lose weight after having a baby. I restricted calories for the first time and watched the calories that I burned at the gym instead of just appreciating the opportunity to move my body. It worked and “got my body back”. After my fourth baby it was even more challenging.  I restricted calories and worked really hard to get back into my jeans. I started thinking more about weight than I ever had. I carried these behaviors into my fifth pregnancy and thought the whole time about my plan to get back to pre-pregnancy weight as soon after delivery as possible.

My fifth baby came with complications and I found myself being induced three weeks before my due date.  I had preeclampsia and needed to deliver as soon as possible to get my blood pressure under control and return to health.  I delivered a beautiful baby boy and was sent home. I was soon readmitted to the hospital as the symptoms of preeclampsia had worsened instead of improving as they usually do after delivery. I was literally fighting for my life as my central nervous system went into overdrive. It was Christmas time, I had a brand new baby, four little boys at home and my loving husband by my side as the doctor explained to me how sick I was. She cautioned me about trying to do too much while I recovered. She told me that I would likely have heart problems later in life as a result of this episode of preeclampsia. She told me about all the worst case scenarios for someone in my situation. I felt like my body had betrayed me.  I had done everything right– I ate well and exercised throughout my entire pregnancy. How could my body be doing this to me? 

I remember laying in my hospital bed missing my boys and wishing I could be with them, making Christmas memories; wrapping presents, looking at holiday lights, and singing all our favorite songs. I couldn’t. I was hooked up to an IV of life saving medications to keep me from having a seizure that could potentially leave me paralyzed, or worse, take my life. It was in that hospital bed that I had one of the profound realization that I needed to change. I needed to love my body for what it did rather than what it looked like washed over me. I needed to change my focus.  I needed to eat right because I loved my body, not because I hated it. I needed to view movement as a reward for my body not as a punishment for what I ate. It was time to love my body. 

I recovered well and was able to return home on Christmas Eve to be with my boys. I watched them open their gifts with a new appreciation for the body that allowed me to be there with them. I got up every morning after that experience and thanked my heart for beating and my lungs for breathing. That experience changed me. I thought less about washboard abs and more about the adventures that my legs could take me on. I lost the baby weight but I didn’t care as much that time around. There were much more important things to think about.