A botched tummy tuck preformed by Michael Myers

My life long struggle with my weight.

A brief history. It started the day puberty hit I swear and it hit early, I was 9. I fluffed up like a cotton ball with boobs. It was really hard for me. Girls didn't like me because I had boobs and the boys didn't like me because I was fat. I did get tired of it in middle school and starved myself down to my lowest weight since childhood; it was not pretty. By the time I got to high school things had kind of evened out. I wasn't thin but I was on the small end of plus-sized. I gained my freshmen 15 my first year in college, but after that my weight was stable until I started having babies.

Jump forward to post-baby-number-one body. I actually weighted less after she was born because of a special diet I had to be on. The problem was with the c-section. When they closed me up it wasn't straight or flat it was this bubbly flappy thing. I hoped for a long time that as the time went by my body would snap back like I had read other women's bodies had. Every doctor's exam started with the doctors asking me if I was going to have a tummy tuck or them asking me to hold up my stomach so they could check me out. After baby number two and c-section number two it was worse and after baby and c-section number three my stomach looks like something out of a plastic surgery nightmare.

So here starts my weight issues today. I have several times started and stopped working on losing weight. I stop because I get so discouraged because I know that no matter how much weight I loose I will still look like I had a botched tummy tuck preformed by Michael Myers. I keep telling myself I need to lose the weight to be healthy and because of my back problems. Combined with my depression issues my tummy issues drive me to give up. I have had some success as of late. I've lost 13 pounds and several inches in the last two and a half months. I am just about at the point where I would normally give up and I feel like doing so. I am trying my hardest to keep it all up. Here is my problem. As I get smaller the more I am able to see all the ugliness that is my stomach. Our new house has so many mirrors in our master bathroom and every time I get ready to shower I am able to see my whole body. All the tucks and folds of my stomach just make me want to cry. This is why the up and down continues for my weight.

I am left in this limbo like state between “yes, I want to make sure I'm healthy” and “I won't be pretty so why try”. It's very difficult to stay motivated when you feel like it won't make a difference where you want to see change. This makes me feel very vain and shallow which leads me to sometimes long bouts of depression than then lead to it being even harder to motivate myself. I know this isn't a thing that is unique to myself, but it sucks. Add to all of that that I am a stay at home, home schooling mom of three crazy kids that are always wanting something. It is really hard to stay on track.

I have however motivated myself to get halfway back on track. I am hoping that despite the fact that even if my stomach is smaller it will still look deformed I can look past that to my health and stay motivated. Fingers crossed.

I am sorry if this is repetitive or rambling. It has been a really long time since I wrote anything is this was emotional for me.   

I am writing this for therapeutic purposes I need to get it out I can't carry this anymore. I am an “autism mom” though I really don't like that term. I am a mom of a child with autism his diagnosis doesn't define him much less what kind of mom I am. There has always been this swarming thing around autism. The way people talk and argue about it. The way people and children with ASD are treated and expected to act. The way the media panics over the “cause” and any possible “cure”. Mostly for me it is all the unsaid words and emotions that have me scared silent most days. Today I am going to speak.

The day I got the call from the doctor's office to give me the results of all the months of repetitive testing we had waiting months to go through I sat quietly listening to her explain to me the diagnosis. She said he has autism and he would be considered “low to mid functioning”. I thanked her and hung up the phone. I crumpled to the floor in tears not really knowing what any of that meant. I just knew there was something wrong and it would be a long hard uphill battle to help him. In that moment I knew in my head that she was just confirming what I already knew but it felt like a loss. He was so little, only 3 years old. I just kept thinking of all the things he may never be able to do. I decided right then I wouldn't let this over take me I was done crying. I see now that was a bad idea.

Over the years Lex was put into many different therapies and went through many different therapists. He started in public school at 3 just a few months after the formal diagnosis. It was shortly after this I met my husband and soon after that I became pregnant with my third child. I was terrified throughout the pregnancy fearing this baby would also fall on the autism spectrum. When she was born everything was fine. Until she was about 18 months old we took her for her wellness checkup and some blood teats were done. One of them came back with some not so good news. She had a high level of lead in her system. Our house was over 100 years old and it was in our plumbing. We moved within a week. Once Lex and Violet were out of that environment things changed quickly for the two of them. Lex was settled into a new school that ended up being one of the best things for him, and once Violet was 2 all the evaluations and testing started for her. Long story short she isn't on the autism spectrum but she does have some developmental delays probably due to the lead she had been ingesting from birth. There is a level of guilt that comes along with knowing this that is sometimes over whelming. I will never know for sure the amount of damage the lead caused any of my children or who they may have been if their tiny brains where spared the toxic levels of lead.

Jump forward to today and what moved me to write this. I watched a PSA about the early warning signs of autism. I caught them all and all of kids have had everything I could give them to make sure their education is all it can be. However, I still harbor guilt, anger, and morn the loss of the unknown. I feel like a terrible person. Yes I love my son more than I can say, but I also desperately miss all the “normal” mother and son things that I will never have. I have lately let myself slip into the fear that my son doesn't love me. I know this isn't true and he shows me love in the ways he knows how and can. This is my own selfish desires that make me feel this way. Today the pain is deep. He doesn't speak to me, or anyone very much, I get no hugs or kisses when he gets off the bus. He is 8 years old and some times he feels like a stranger, one I want with all that I am to know. Most days I can ignore all of this and let the hope for the future get me by, but today is not one of those days. I try to think about all the good things. Like the fact that all of my kids are “well behaved”. People will literally approach us in public and tell us how good our kids are. The violent meltdowns had pretty much stopped. He is attending mainstream 2^nd grade elective classes along with lunch and recess and is doing great. Things could be way worse. Still there are days when the self pity takes over. These vicious cycles of self pity and self loathing are compounded by my own anxiety and depression issues cause more than their fair share of trouble. I don't think I am ever really free of these things they just weigh on me in different strengths from day to day.

So, here is my ugly truth I morn the loss of a son I expected and didn't give birth to. I fear that he will be stuck at his current level of functionality and I will have to care for him for the rest of his life. It is deeply heart breaking to me when I think that he may never meet and fall in love with someone. I am always worried he will be bullied. I am terrified that he will be out in public one day and someone will misunderstand some of his actions and the police will kill. I fear the complacent words muttered over the bodies of other children with mental disorders, “we don't have time for this”. I will always wonder what I am missing or how different things could be and what that may feel like. Knowing these things about myself make me feel like a terrible person and an even worse mom. My selfishness is heavy and today I let it pull me down. Tomorrow is another day and I am hoping tomorrow I will be stronger and a balance can be maintained.