Losing the Baby Weight

Seriously, this lady must have just had a baby.

When I was pregnant, I did what a lot of pregnant women do.  I completely overindulged... to the tune of gaining 50 pounds.  I read the articles that promoted only gaining between 25 and 35 pounds (at six months pregnant, I hit the over).  Rather than heed the advice given, I ate pizza and GiGi's cupcakes my entire first trimester.  My second trimester I ate donuts...daily.  And they weren't the plain kind.  My favorite were cream filled, chocolate covered with sprinkles.  I also didn't stop at one.  Davis and I ate Sonic every other night.  I had cheeseburgers and tater tots.  Then I discovered a love for Little Debby oatmeal cream pies during my third trimester.  Oh, and lest I forget consuming copious amounts of ice cream.  Did I mention I didn't work out?  Like at all?  Because I didn't.

In a recent interview, famous momma Jessica Simpson told USA Today "I let myself indulge in everything I wanted because it was the first time I was pregnant, and I wanted to enjoy it."  I can definitely relate to that statement.  That's really how I felt.  The only problem is no one is paying me three million bucks to lose my baby weight, and Davis isn't footing the bill for a personal trainer, a nanny to watch Tripp while I work out for hours at a time, or a chef to cook my every meal.  It is really difficult to look at postpartum celebs who lose their baby weight in three weeks and not have the same expectations for myself, even after knowing they have access to resources that I will never have.  Not to mention the fact that I can't imagine spending my baby's first months in the gym, rather than with him.  The whole "nine months on, nine months off" (which has been quoted to me over and over for the past two months) mantra is unacceptable in my mind, so I've started the arduous journey of getting back to my pre-preggo size (even if I never return to my pre-preggo body).  

I've started trying to eat healthier and have begun the Couch to 5K training program.  No one tells you that getting back into running after a year off is super hard and that you really and truly have to start back from scratch.  Because I'm breastfeeding, I can't diet, but I have been making healthier choices in the food department. 

When we brought Tripp home from the NICU, I had lost nearly half of the weight I had piled on.  But since then, I haven't lost a pound.  You read that right.  Not one pound.  I did go shopping at Old Navy because I didn't want to wear maternity jeans another day.  The size I bought was three sizes bigger than my old size. I never thought I'd see the day when shopping wasn't fun - at all.  

I'm going to continue to exercise and eat healthier because I genuinely enjoy being healthy - even if it never gets me back to where I was before.  And when I begin to feel disheartened, I am going to look at my precious, precious baby boy.  Because at the end of the day, he was worth every. single. pound.

My Least Favorite Three Words Right Now...

...are "He is crying," said by none other than my very own Captain Obvious, Davis.

Let me explain. At Tripp's two month checkup, our pediatrician told me he can sleep eight continuous hours now. The good doctor told me when he wakes up before his eight hours to let him cry for about fifteen minutes to let him go back to sleep on his own.

In an earlier post, you might've read my bragging about how he was sleeping his eight hours, and most nights, he has. However, the last two nights, he has awakened, crying at 5 AM (an hour early). I have let him cry for his 15 or so (okay, I admit, I usually cave at 10) minutes, then I travel up the stairs (worst floor plan ever by the way for a newborn) and stick his blessed paci in his mouth.

The 15 (or 10) minutes he cries is excruciating for me for several reasons. One, I hate seeing my baby upset. Two, I'd rather be sleeping. And three, let's face it, "crying baby" noise is really pretty annoying. And I must say, I am a pretty considerate wife. When Tripp starts crying, I always turn the volume down on the baby monitor. Trust me, if there was a mute button, I'd have hit it already.

So anyway, last night, oh, about eight minutes in to Tripp's 5 AM cry-athon, Davis tells me, "He is crying." Seriously, honey? I'm well aware. In fact, I'm watching the baby monitor intently, crossing my fingers that he drifts back off to dreamland (what do babies dream about anyway?). In two minutes, I will be walking back up those stairs to his nursery, where I will put his paci back in and turn his mobile back on and hope he sleeps for one whole hour more, so I can sleep for one more hour more. (And in case you were wondering, he didn't sleep in his crib. Finally, I held him and rocked him in the dark until 6, when I fed him.)

I feel the need here to provide the following disclaimer: I have a great husband and Tripp has an amazing father. Davis loves spending time with him and often takes over in the late afternoons/early evenings, so I can run errands solo or jog around the neighborhood. Tripp and I are both very lucky. With that said, he can be annoying in the wee hours of the morning. :)

Crib Training Update

Ahhhh... He has finally made the big transition to the crib! All it took was Grandma D-D coming to the rescue with a mobile that lights up, spins monkeys around, and plays Bach. It doesn't match my nursery, and for all of two seconds, I cringed at the primary colors that blinded me and the rainforest animals that clearly didn't match my nursery theme, but hey, whatever gets the job done, right?  Did you hear that sound? It's a huge sigh of relief made by yours truly!

Behold the Fisher Price Rainforest Mobile!

Did I mention he is also sleeping 8 hours now?  When Tripp sleeps, Mommy sleeps, and when Mommy sleeps, everybody in the house is happier.  :)

Yep, that's my child sleeping in his crib!  I love my baby monitor by the way... it's Motorola.
Is he not the SWEETEST thing when he's sleeping?!