As my birthday is quickly approaching, just a couple weeks away, this coming week I am reminded why I dread turning 40.
I know, it’s just a number. It
shouldn’t mean anything. But it does. It is a reminder to me of how much I dislike my body and what it cannot do.
Five years ago this week, I had a miscarriage. Since then, my body has been poked, prodded, medicated, tested, operated on, and more, all to no avail. Five years ago this week, we lost the baby we were supposed to have. We should have a 4 year old child. But we don’t.
Everyone has reasons to dislike their body. Before being momentarily pregnant and then losing it in the blink of any eye, I would tell you I didn’t like my body because I wasn’t thin, I didn’t like my butt, legs, whatever. While I STILL dislike those things about my body, it seems so minor compared to not being able to have a baby, to be labeled “infertile” by doctors.
The last several years have been rough. ROUGH in all capital letters. Losing a baby, running two businesses at once, the crash of the economy and all the stress from that, the above mentioned poking and prodding, losing our Sweet Sammi dog, and losing Daddy last year. My body has taken a beating, – physically, emotionally, and mentally.
I do my best to not think about the very real fact that we likely will never have a child. It is an awful thought to think about. Our resources are tapped, we have no alternatives, so I do my best to focus on everything else. Hence, one of the many reasons I am making 2012 MY year. The year to take care of myself. I am determined to make the year that I turn 40 the one to remember by losing the weight I’ve put on the last several years, to do not one but two half-marathons this year, and as many 5Ks as I can. I want to take control back on my body and show it that I am in charge, not it.
It’s a struggle, it always will be. It’s so easy to not care about what I eat or drink or if I sit on the couch every day and not walk or workout. It’s easy to fall into that trap. My body can’t do what I want it to do, why should I be good to it? But that won’t get me anywhere, except depressed.
I am changing that. And somehow, someway, I will one day learn to accept the other facts. Maybe.