Food for thought

Today I saw my family doctor about a new mole I'd found on my scalp. It was dark and irregularly shaped so she did an excision.

As the lidocaine was being injected into my scalp to do the procedure, it hurt a little and I commented on it, saying, "It hurts a little but it's okay, I've given birth to two children, I can handle it."

Then my doctor segued into a "why stop at 2?" discussion. She went on to say that when she was 15, her older brother, who was 19, was killed in a motorcycle accident. She said she tells all of her patients not to stop at two children because if, god forbid, something happens to one of them, it's the other one who bears the brunt of it.

I imagine she knows what she's talking about, having herself been in that very situation...but now she's planted just the tiniest seed of 'what if' in my head.

For us, one baby was a miracle, two a blessing. Anything more seems to be asking for too much. I'm 40, soon to be 41. We're out of diapers now and in panties (hooray!), the bottles are long gone, and the sippy cups may soon follow. Soon we'll be down one preschool tuition when big sister starts kindergarten this August, a nice little bump back into our monthly budget, but...

Could we do it all again? Should we do it all again?

What if....

I was lost but now I'm found

Somewhere along the way these past few years, I've lost me. Gone is the girl who used to enjoy doing physical things...bike riding, raquetball, swimming. Left behind in her place is a girl who sits in front of the computer, or the TV, or a book. A girl who is now the heaviest she has ever been in her life, outside of her second pregnancy and she's even toeing that line.

Back in 2003 and 2004, I was healthy, working out daily, eliminating simple carbs (rice, bread, potatoes, etc.) from my diet, watching what I ate and did. In the process, I lost 65 pounds, and kept them off--until I got pregnant with big sister. Then I was told that my former way of eating wasn't best for baby, so goodbye to that. There was a half-hearted attempt to restart it after big sister was born which resulted in my finally losing that last 20 pounds of pesky baby weight.

But then came my pregnancy with little sister, and the gestational diabetes, and the monitoring, and what not so that, by the time I finally had her, I was ready to throw it all aside and indulge. And indulge I did, and kept doing.

So now, I'm heavier than ever, unhappier with my appearance than ever, and finally ready to do something about it. It took my annual physical with my doctor to open my eyes--my fasting blood sugar was high and there was worry that I had become diabetic. One two-hour glucose tolerance test later (just as fun as it was during pregnancy) and it's not diabetes, but I do have impaired fasting glucose, and a borderline c-peptide level, meaning I could theorectically segue into diabetes if I don't take immediate steps to change my lifestyle.

There you have it. I want to be around for many years--to watch my girls grow up, go to college, hopefully have careers, get married, have children (assuming, of course, that they want these things for themselves) and so forth. I don't want to think of the alternative, of what's at stake now.

And so, today I embarked on a quest to reclaim myself. More exercising (hello muscles, remember me?), no more simple carbs (it was nice while it lasted), no sugar (my weakness!), and no caffeine (oh how I'll miss you). I've done it before, I can do it again.

I will do it again.