• 9 Pounds, 2 Weeks

    Date: 2013.07.22 | Category: Baby, Health, Mark, Me, Pregnancy | Tags:

    “Nine pounds, two weeks!” has become the new catch phrase around here in an effort to get over the giant blow to my ego I had last week.

    Before we left town Wednesday, I had my regular OB check up. Except that my doctor was out on a surgery and the nurse practitioner I usually see in her absence had fallen off a ladder, damaging her own foot so bad that she had to have emergency surgery and stay off of it for eight weeks. So, instead, I got stuck with the new NP – a young, thin blonde with an extremely twangy southern accent.

    Let me back up. Normally, when I go to the OB, they weigh me in the room on a digital scale. So far, my weight gain has been normal and nearly pound for pound like it was with Sarah. I’ve kept track of it at home on a digital scale to make sure that things weren’t getting out of hand.

    But this time, with a different NP, they weighed me out in the public hall on an old janky scale that has to have been there since the early 1980’s. Still though, when they weighed me, I kind of checked out and moved on.

    When I got into the room and finally saw the NP, she asked me in a very patronizing, fake sweet tone, “Did you gain nine pounds in two weeks?” Shocked, I sort of just stumbled, “Um, I don’t know,” and then spent every ounce of energy I had trying not to burst into tears.

    Weight gain is tough on any pregnant woman, but as a woman who has struggled with my weight my whole life, this was particularly hard.

    Finally I said, “Well maybe it’s because I usually weigh in the mornings here and this time I’m weighing right after lunch.”

    She immediately asked, “What did you have for lunch?”

    “A veggie burger and a banana,” I said, truthfully.

    “Well, you know, I have a lot of women tell me they don’t know why they’re gaining weight because all they eat are vegetables,” she said, still sugary sweet.

    “I know I shouldn’t be one to criticize about weight, but…” said the tiny little blonde who has obviously never given birth.

    I was humiliated, guilty, embarrassed, near tears. And it just wouldn’t stop. I finally said, “Well, I’m extremely self conscious about my weight and I’ll try to do better next time.”

    At the time I didn’t even stop to think that maybe I should be re-weighed or that the scale might be off. I was feeling so shameful and hateful of myself that all I could think of was what a giant fat failure I was.

    I left the office dejected after a few more comments about my starting weight and where I was then.

    I called Mark and burst into tears and spent the rest of the evening in a terrible guilty funk. It didn’t help that Sarah threw a 50 MINUTE long tantrum from the time I picked her up until Mark got home. I just wanted to throw myself on the floor and join right in with her.

    I texted with Susan about it – the only person I even felt remotely comfortable admitting my great shame to, and she was so encouraging. It lifted my spirits some, but not completely.

    But then my husband came home and was upset by how I was acting. “You did not gain nine pounds in two weeks. I don’t believe it. You would know.”

    The thing is, I don’t know that I would know. I feel so unbelievably big right now that it doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch.

    He encouraged me to re-weigh myself. So finally, I did. And guess what, he was right, I hadn’t gained nine pounds in two weeks, I had gained THREE. My digital scale at home has been exact with the digital scales at the OB office, but that old ridiculous scale weighed me SIX POUNDS heavier than my one at home.

    Besides feeling obviously relieved, I also felt angry. I know the NP was just going by the numbers she was given, but to be put through that session of shame when it wasn’t warranted was a form of torture for me.

    At this point I’m supposed to be gaining a pound a week. So three pounds is nearly right on target and I’m exactly where I should be.

    Mark has a mind to let the doctor know how angry he is by how I was treated, but I’m not sure what we’ll do or say. I do know that I won’t ever see that NP again.

    In order to get over the humiliation of it all, we’ve made it into a joke. Mark informs me that I have a buffer now – after all, I’ve already been shamed about gaining the weight, I might as well put it on.  So any time we come across something particularly fattening and yummy now, we say, “Nine pounds, two weeks!”

    Now, let’s just hope that doesn’t really happen. Though I have a feeling all this heartburn and stomach squishing will help things in that department.