Weight gain

I went into pregnancy fit and proud. I work out. I'm active. I've got more muscle than the average female. I don't monitor my weight, because I know that my diet and exercise habits take care of that for me.

So, getting on the scale once a month is new for me. Seeing the scale tip a bit more each time, definitely a shocker.

I went into my 1st prenatal appointment, got weighed and checked. Was told things looked good and to eat what I could, because I was likely to be in "survival mode," meaning that I should eat what sounds good, because nothing might sound good at all.

Well, I'm one of the lucky ones. No morning sickness. Not even a bit of nausea. A few food cravings and aversions, but again, nothing too unique. I was off chicken for about a week. Still have to force down apples and bananas, though I used to eat them daily and with pleasure. I've eaten my weight in Honey Nut Cheerios and soup. Last week, I went into the store for the SOLE purpose of buying cookies and cream icecream. I had to have it after it was mentioned in conversation with some of my students. I thought about it all day long.

At my 12 week appointment, I got back on the scale, expecting to have gained at least a few pounds. I was eating more. I wasn't throwing anything up. My boobs were swelling rapidly. I didn't have a baby bump, but I felt a little "thicker." I was surprised and proud of myself when I'd only gained 1 pound. That's what they recommend. One pound a month for the first 3 months, then one pound a week for the rest of pregnancy. I felt justified in my appetite and my increased caloric intake. Clearly, this was going to good use.

At my 16 week appointment, I stepped back on the scale, expecting another modest increase, maybe 2 or 3 pounds this time. The nurse kept pushing the little black weight further to the right. I'd gained 8 more pounds! 9 (probably 10 since the very beginning) pounds total!

I stepped off the scale and looked at Dave, who had the day off and was able to join me for this appointment. "8 pounds," I mouthed to him. "I've gained 8 pounds." He looked nonplussed and squeezed my hand as I sat down on the examination chair. The nurse left, telling us the NP/Midwife would be in shortly.

"I can't believe I've gained 8 pounds," I said. "That's more than I should."

"You're fine. Your body is probably catching up since you didn't gain much in the first trimester."

It's funny. I know I'm pregnant. I know this is one time in my life where I will and should gain 25+ pounds. And I'm not a body image freak. My philosophy is that as long as I feel good and my clothes fit, I'm doing something right. But the stigma of weight gain hit me unexpectedly. 8 pounds in a month is a lot. I'm not showing that much. My boobs are huge and I have a little bump, but I can't help being concerned with this news. I start doing the math in my head. 2 pounds to boobs, 1 pound to the placenta, 1 pound to baby, some to increased blood volume, there's amniotic fluid...

Luckily I'm saved from these crazy pregnant lady thoughts by the NP. We listen to the heart beat, always an amazing moment. At 7 weeks, she'd had to fish around to find the little one's beat down by my pelvis. But now, Squirt (one of many fetus nicknames) was right below my belly button and we could hear a strong, "swish, swish, swish" of its little heart. I was delighted at the "swish, swish, BLIP!, swish, swish, swish, BLIP!" The NP explained the blips. "A little bit of movement there. You probably can't feel it now, but soon..."

After the heartbeat, the NP asked if we had any questions and reviewed my chart. "You've gained 9 pounds so far. Perfectly normal."

"Not too much?"

"No, that's just fine. And next time I see you, you'll be at the halfway point."

That statement--"halfway point"--both consoled and agitated me. I was consoled because 9 pounds at the almost halfway point seemed right. I was agitated because this is really happening! I'm really growing something that will be emerging from my uterus in about 24 weeks. I have a lot to learn before that happens.