The Weight of Infertility

Consider this post a slight confessional detour from the usual topics of this blog.

I've been weighing myself daily lately. It started when I was tracking my weight for IVF purposes. My weight started at my non-pregnant baseline and went up. And up. And up.

And now it's down. 99.5 lbs on my scale, which is the lowest my weight has been since LG was a baby and I went into some crazy breastfeeding hyper-metabolic state. When LG and I went shopping the other day, I needed to go down a size in pants.

There was a time--high school, early college--I would have loved that fact. (I never had an eating disorder in any clinical sense of things, but did struggle with anorexic tendencies from age 14-18 or so.) Now? It just feels like something else that's been done to my body because of fertility treatment.

I know that probably makes no logical sense. Weight gain would be more logical. But I just don't recognize my body anymore. My menstrual cycle. My blood pressure. My weight. I'm living in another woman's body.

I want my own body back. The version of my body that gets pregnant and stays pregnant and packs on 37 lbs in 37 weeks and relishes every minute of it.

I guess I'll go eat that giant Snickers bar.