Baby… and “Ana”… on Board

At the end of 2002 (on my 31st birthday!), I discovered I was pregnant.

I was thrilled… and then terrified.

Having (mostly) recovered from an eating disorder, I worried that “Ana” (aka, anorexia) would come to visit me for the next nine months. Maybe longer.

It was horrifying.

Interestingly, over the ensuing months, I didn’t become obsessed with staying thin, although I did HATE being pregnant.

Every doctor’s appointment was pure hell as I discovered I had gained weight. Every glimpse in the mirror showed an expanding belly. When people began telling me (in month eight) that I had gotten a “chubbier” face, I wanted to cry.

I have very few photos of me taken during my pregnancy, mostly because I despised the way my body felt and looked and never allowed people to take my picture. I ate well, though, despite the hormonal nausea that stuck with me until the moment our son was born.

Looking back, I’m proud that I didn’t allow Ana to affect the wellness of my child. However, I must admit that I’m ashamed that I couldn’t embrace the notion of an expanding tummy.

Motherhood was a blessing, but even now I haven’t quite adjusted to my “new” body, nor have I returned to the same half-decent body image I had pre-pregnancy.  There are some days when I cannot even touch my body without feeling disgusted by the lumps and bumps.

I suppose it’s a learning experience. That’s life with an eating disorder… even a dormant one.  And, as I said before, having my best buddy in the world [see photo circa early 2007] was worth it.