Sara Groves - 04/19/09

A weighty subject

A very good friend of mine who had a baby just more than a month ago was bemoaning the fact that she was still wearing her maternity clothes. "It has been a month!" she exclaimed. "I have such a long way to go!"

I pointed out to her that she had just grown another human being inside of her and that, perhaps, she should worry less that she's still wearing her maternity clothes and be thankful that she had a healthy pregnancy and a beautiful healthy baby.

"You're only saying that because you can see your toes," she sneered at me.

Perhaps she's right. I remember during both pregnancies fretting and worrying about the weight I had gained and secretly hoping I would have a 37-pound baby so I had less weight to lose when all was said and done.

Both of my boys were big when they were born, but they certainly weren't in the 37-pound range. During my first pregnancy, a friend of mine, who also happens to be a model, told me I could eat whatever I wanted and gain 100 pounds. As long as I breastfed my babies, the weight would just fall off! In a matter of weeks!

That sounded pretty good to me. So, despite what my doctor told me and despite everything I read about keeping my pregnancy weight gain to around 35 pounds, I chose to listen to my model friend. I also chose to ignore the fact that she was born with infinitely more perfect physical genes than I have (hence the modeling career which, just in case you were wondering, no one has ever approached me about).

The result? I gained a lot of weight -- 68 pounds to be exact. And despite the fact that I had actually given birth to a nine-pound baby and breastfed like a crazy woman for six weeks, when I returned to my doctor's office for my postpartum check-up, I had 56 pounds to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight.

Fifty-six!!! Surely though, because I was nursing, those 56 pounds would disappear from my body while I was sleeping, right? "Ha!" I say. "Double HA HA!"

Here's some news for those mothers who claim their pregnancy weight just magically disappeared: I think you are liars. Because my 56 pounds stayed stubbornly on my body. Part of the problem was my near constant state of delirium due to waking up 378 times each night to breastfeed. I was being denied sleep; I could not fathom denying myself sustenance.

When the time came for me to go back to work, I had no choice but to wear my maternity clothes because I couldn't fit into my regular clothes. I remember contemplating just gaining another 44 pounds and signing up for gastric bypass surgery. But then I decided to buckle down and lose the pregnancy weight the way nature intended.

By going on a fad diet.

I started the South Beach Diet. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this form of torture, I'll give it to you in brief. No sugar. None. Like not one crystal of it. Not from fruit. Not from milk products. Not from carbs -- oh, glorious carbs. Here's what you eat on South Beach: lean protein, lettuce, eggs, low-fat cheese, and low-glycemic vegetables.

By the third day of it, I was ready to shove a Pixy Stix right into one of my arteries. I had never experienced withdrawal before, but the South Beach Diet brought it on: night sweats, crazy dreams, irritability. Actually, irritability is a rather mild understatement. For example, on day four, the cat made the mistake of walking in front of me; I was so incensed that I wanted to swing him around the room by his tail and then draw and quarter him.

It took me nine months, but I eventually shed every ounce of my pregnancy weight. When I became pregnant a second time, I swore up and down that I would not gain more than 25 pounds.

Of course it didn't work out that way.

I ended up gaining another 68 pounds. But, I told myself, after having baby No. 2, I would be back at the gym in less than a week and losing weight so quickly that I would be able to see a visible difference from hour to hour.

Pregnancy hormones -- they obviously cloud your thinking.

The reality of it? I spent the first six months of Peter's life sleeping an intermittent four hours a day and trying to figure out how to fit in working out and dieting in between keeping my newborn fed and happy and my toddler from crawling the walls -- not to mention laundry, cooking, some cleaning, and -- oh yes -- work.

So I wore my maternity clothes for an embarrassingly long time. In fact, it took me an entire year to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight that second time around. No, I definitely do not have those model genes -- which must burn calories at light speed -- that my modeling friend has. But eventually, I was able to toss my maternity panel pants and fit into jeans I do possess - the kind that button and zip.