I have, in the last week or so, become fat. It’s not baby. Baby is not that big. Uterus is not that big. Baby is also not in my love handles. It’s not cookies and cake, as I have not eaten much of that in the last 12 weeks. It’s probably Olive Garden, Thai food, Taco Bell, and other various things I should not have eaten (though were mighty tasty). So now, I wake up every morning feeling bloaty and gross and none of my clothes fit. I’m 12 weeks pregnant and contemplating maternity pants.
The biggest problem is that I haven’t had many problems with my depression since getting pregnant until Saturday. I got really depressed Saturday about my weight and the way I look and I haven’t been able to shake it. I know I need to start exercising and now that I’m getting more energy I could probably start going back to the gym, but after we come back from Tennessee we have to buckle down and spend every waking second packing and moving. Which essentially puts us into November and my 15th week before I have time to exercise. I’m frustrated and tired and down. I’m glad for my husband and my friends here, even if they don’t totally understand. I wish my family was closer/more accessible, though. It would make things easier.
I’m still feeling better every day and getting more energy. On Saturday, two of my friends, their kids and I went to the pumpkin farm to play and take pictures of the kids. After the farm we went to Olive Garden for my birthday dinner. The husband was out of town doing a remodel job so it was just us girls. On Sunday, H and I went to get massages (using gift certificates we earned at work almost a year ago!) and I got a pedicure after that. A week or so ago I would not have been able to manage Saturday much less Saturday and Sunday. Although I was very tired and worn out today. I’m looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow. At least I get to sleep in on my birthday, right?