The day that changed MY life

As much as I have strived to make this blog more about health than weight loss, there is always the underlying fact that in order to be HEALTHY I need to lose weight.  I have read so many amazing weightloss blogs, and fantastic stories of healthy lifestyles.  I have also read just as many stories that involve struggles and serious setbacks - both inspire me to be a healthier person. 

I wrote a post when I first started this blog explaining some of the reasons why I want to live a healthier lifestyle and lose weight.  All of those reasons and MANY more keep me going on this journey every day! 

Thus far in my short journey I have done well, and while I forgot to post it on Friday, I lost nearly 5 pounds last week alone.

Just as we all reasons why we want to be healthier or lose weight, we all have stories about why we are overweight to start with.  My story isn't anything special. 

I was always a chubby kid, and started to put on more weight at the end of highschool, and before I knew it, I was 280 pounds.   I lost a lot of weight before I moved away to go to University and was really doing a great job of losing weight and getting healthy.  As with so many things in life, an obstacle landed right in the middle of my path. 

Much to our surprise, Mr. T and I discovered that I was pregnant while I was in my last semester of University.  Weightloss suddenly screeched to a halt.  We were shocked, and then happy and then seriously thrilled with this news.  My first ultrasound to see how far along I was was really very exciting.  I was thrilled to hear the heartbeat and couldn't wait to see my baby moving around on the screen. 

The ultrasound tech was taking a really long time and I started to get worried.  She finally turned the screen towards me and said "I'm having trouble measuring THIS baby because THE OTHER baby is getting in the way."

SAY WHA? TWO of 'em?! I burst out laughing. It was another shock, but once again when the shock wore off, it was really exciting to think about having twins. 

While we were attending our first appointment with the specialist, he told us that the ultrasound didn't show a "dividing membrane" that is usually present in identical twin pregnancies.  "Should we be worried," I asked.  He said that it wasn't uncommon to just not see it that early on and by 18 weeks it would likely be there.

Our 18 week ultrasound came and went.  The tech this time showing us how the babies, BOYS, were rolling around, feet in each others' faces.  It was really pretty amazing, as anyone who has had a baby will tell you.  We went home blissfully happy, and excited about the future.

The next day my doctor calls and tells me that I need to come into his office and bring "support."  What does support mean? I figured there was no membrane, which would make the pregnancy VERY tricky.  Basically, in a monoamniotic pregnancy, cords and can wrapped around each other as there's two babies on one sac.  A very scary situation.  I braved the appointment alone, as I refused to believe anything could be THAT bad.

My doctor sat me down, and told me that there were severe abnormalities, and that I would be sent to Women's Hospital in Vancouver, but likely they would suggest I terminate the pregnancy.

I didn't even cry. I didn't move. I just sat there.

What do you say to that? How do you feel? All of this emotion from the start of this pregnancy, and now this?  I phoned Mr. T as soon as I could, after literally falling down sobbing in the parking lot.  Not only were they monoamniotic, but they were sick.  How could this be happening.

Our first appointment in Vancouver revealed that there WERE no severe abnormalities, and after much genetic testing, we were confident that the small things that were wrong could be fixed after the boys were born.  We went home happy and relieved, and waited to go back to Vancouver two weeks later, as that is where I would be treated because of the incredibly complicated pregnancy we were dealing with.

Sitting in the waiting room we talked about baby names, and laughed.  Watching happy parents-to-be go in for their ultrasounds.  When my name was called we were escorted into the room and the tech made small talk while she scanned my belly.  She started to talk less and finally I asked her what she was seeing.  She told me it was what she wasn't seeing that she was worried about.  I assumed she meant that one baby was smaller than the other, which was becoming a problem and asked if that's what she was talking about.

"No," she said. "I'm not seeing heartbeats."  So there I was, half naked on a table, looking at my tiny babies, just 2 months away from being born, waiting for a doctor to "confirm her findings."  Like this was a science experiment.  I sobbed. I sobbed and I cried and I'm pretty sure I even yelled.  I didn't know what else to do.

The doctor said yes, they had died, and now I needed to talk to someone about what to do next.  The only thing that anyone in this whole process said that made me think that someone understood, was when the next doctor said to us, "You know, this is really shitty-ass."  Yes, this was really shitty-ass, and I didn't know how to even live my life from that moment on.

We went home and delivered our tiny premature baby boys, Aidan Kevin and Keegan David on August 27th, 2006.  They were perfect.  Ten fingers, and ten toes, identical baby boys.  The labour and delivery were the worst day of my life, but I held them and I instantly knew what it felt like to be a mother, and lose a child - all in one day.  Husbands who lose wives are widowers, wives who lose husbands, widows.  There is no term for someone who loses a child, it's too awful to even try to name.

I held it together well while I was in the hospital, but when they transferred me from delivery to maternity, I was sure I would die. Everywhere there were babies.  Happy parents. Smiling nurses.  And us, with red eyes, stuffy noses, and no babies.  I felt physically empty.  They were gone. 

When I went home I fell into a serious depression. I slept and I ate.  I ate to fill that empty feeling, but that didn't help, so I ate some more.  I didn't exercise, I didn't have the energy.  I gained weight, quickly.  We decided that we wanted to have another baby, and despite the fact that I was not in physically good enough shape to be doing it, we did.  We had our perfect baby girl just one year later. 

I wrapped myself up in taking care of her, and continued to neglect my own health.  If she was happy, I was happy. 

In recent months, as many people around me have become sick, and some even died, I made a decision.  I didn't want my daughter to have to feel how I felt with my parents being sick.  Anything I can do to keep myself healthy, I will do it.  She deserves that - and so do I. 

And so, you see, this post wasn't to garner your pity, or make you sad.  It was just my way of releasing this "stuff" that has kept me fat for a lot of years.  A way for me to share with you why I am on this journey, and how serious I am about making sure I stick with it.

Tune in tomorrow when I return to reguarly scheduled programming....just a small side note that I needed to write more for me than anyone else!

Thanks for reading.