It's Okay to Not Fit in Your Pants.

Or at least that's what I'm trying to believe. Y'all are about to get to know me probably more than you wanted to.

After kids #1 and 2, I "bounced back" like it was nothing.The week after Aoife was born I was in church wearing a beautiful size 4 pencil skirt. I've always had body issues and I think I wore that skirt that day like a trophy. Granted, she was eight weeks early, but I remember feeling the pressure to get back in the gym at only days postpartum. I'd hit the treadmill on my way home from NICU visits.

Number three was a little more challenging. Before Tiegan, I started doing CrossFit. I still had some cardio days, but generally a gym workout for me consisted of a WOD (workout of the day), and then either a cardio workout, or a more targeted lifting workout (upper body, arms, or legs). I loved Olympic lifts. My body was strong and I felt like a badass. I ate really well during the week and "cheated" on the weekends. Every time I PR'd either on a lift or timed workout there was a celebration. I weighed more than I ever had, but I loved my body and everything it could do. Enter Tiegan.

Towards the middle/end of the pregnancy I got placed on modified bed rest -banned from the gym and any physical activity. I felt like my muscle turned to jelly. Bed rest got lifted and I got to walk, and she arrived just a couple days later. Enter postpartum depression.

Postpartum depression has been different for me each time. It's very real and can be very scary. And it's lonely. We moved just a couple weeks after Tiegan was born. In winter. In our new ward (church area), I felt isolated. People are generally very welcoming, but I don't know if it was because we had just had a baby, or it was winter, or what, but I felt like we were skipped over. I had a hard time meeting people with school schedule and all in all, I had a really hard time adjusting to life with three kids. I ended up snapping and having a quarter-life crisis and saw a psychiatrist weekly, sometimes twice a week, for a few months.

When I did get back in the gym, it was different. I was struggling with so many other things and I was exhausted. I didn't have the muscular fit body I had before, but with some help, it was okay.

Last fall I started working with a bikini/figure/bodybuilding coach. I love and am fascinated with bodybuilding. I love lifting. I was in a better place, so I set some new goals and got to work. Enter Emma. (no, she wasn't a surprise.) I got put on restricted activity right away and eventually bed rest. I didn't really start gaining weight until I was put on bed rest, and I only gained 20 pounds in all, but I started out fluffier than my "normal".

I lost 12 of that pretty quickly, but then breastfeeding happened and my body freaked out and we're right back where we started. I started lifting again at one month postpartum. At 7 weeks, I had my postpartum check up. And doc saw my crotch wasn't healed yet and my abs below my belly button are split. (Which is why my stomach is a little poochier there.) I still had the okay to exercise (minus sit ups and crunches for a while), and she was okay that I had started before the appointment, but isn't it insane how much pressure we have to "bounce back"? I mean, I've been getting only 3 or four hours of sleep, still bleeding, and I still got suckered into it.

Last week I decided I needed to switch tactics for my self esteem's sake. Rather than build and bulk, I decided to do things a little backwards and try to cut a little first. I'm back to tracking calories and macros and trying to not be obsessive about it. And I decided to wave the white flag and go get a few clothes that actually fit. I can button the pre preggo jeans, but I feel like a busted can of biscuits. At home I wear whatever and at work I wear skirts, but I don't really have anything that's acceptable to leave the house in on a normal day. So last night I trudged off only with Emma as my tag-along and I was even a little excited.

Nope. Nope nope nope. Turns out not only do I have no clue what size pants I should wear, I also have no clue what would even look good. I really had to fight not going and sitting in the car to cry, and I walked out with only two shirts and still no pants. Ross had friends over and I sat upstairs feeding Emma until he came up and asked how I was and what I had found. And I bursted out in tears and said every unkind thing about myself that I usually do.

I've been really bitter towards Ross this time around. And it's unfortunate, because he can't change how reproduction works. But he's stuck with the lifting program I started, taking the supplements I can't, and his body is changing and looking FINE. Meanwhile, I feel like a slug. I get it, I made a PERSON. And it's awesome. And I'm keeping that person alive. But most of the time I wish his nipples weren't useless while mine are being abused. (Girlfriend eats ALL the time.) Ross is kind and compassionate and says kind things to me all the time. And the crazy thing is, he BELIEVES the kind things he's saying. But my pants still don't fit. And I'm really trying to be okay with it. I had four kids in five and a half years and my body got rocked. I'm exhausted. At least my kids are cute. Leggings are totally acceptable as pants anyway, right?