At Annabel’s appointment on Monday I mentioned my whole diabetes hullabaloo to Dr. Looove. She gave me the raised eyebrow, which means her wheels are turning and she’s figuring out how she’s going to make the situation better. Since I’m still only eight weeks postpartum, she wants to wait a little longer to check my Hemoglobin A1c (an identifier for diabetes). Then she told me that I need to be careful about my diet (boo) and to be sure to exercise (booooo) as both will really help keep diabetes at bay. And then I groaned and the raised eyebrow became the hairy eyeball.
Remember two weeks ago when I said I was excited to exercise? Well, since then, I have been to physical therapy, and my therapist put the kibosh on me doing anything too strenuous until this week, and still doesn’t want me to go full-steam for an additional two weeks. But I am supposed to get my heart rate up for at least twenty minutes a day until then.
In the meantime, I am exhausted. Which, you know, is nothing new. But if I have 20 minutes to myself and my options are 1) exercise, 2) eat, 3) shower, or 4) sleep, SLEEP ALWAYS WINS. I use that new mom excuse to the hilt.
I really don’t want diabetes, though. I just like pie too much to not do what I can to avoid it. And it didn’t help when last week a grocery store clerk asked me when I was due. DUE! WITH A BABY! While I pushed my seven week old in a stroller. Obviously she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but it made me realize that I am too tired to even suck in my gut. That’s just sad.
Yesterday I was early for an appointment with my psychiatrist, so I decided to walk around for 20 minutes before I met with the doctor. Everyone that knows me just gasped because I am never on time for anything, let alone early. Annabel was with me, so I loaded her into the stroller and we did laps around the hospital she was born in. By the end of the 20 minutes I was sore and hot and I’m sure my shrink reaaaaalllllly appreciated my stinky smell but HEY! I exercised!
The bigger thing though was taking some time to do something for myself. It’s hard to find ways to make sure my needs are being met, you know? It’s a pretty sad day when Mike has to tell me 87 times to go get a pedicure and I would rather languish on the couch with my peanut butter jar and a spoon. I’m not really sure how to let myself take moments for myself – let alone find the time for those moments. And then what do I DO with those moments? Conundrum.
I didn’t love exercising yesterday and I still kind of wish I’d slept in the car for those 20 minutes, but I am a bit proud of myself for doing something healthy. Even if I’m really only doing it so I can continue to eat pie. My reasons are my reasons!