Just a Dream

“I thought I almost lost you.” The words were spoken quietly by Turbo Jennie. She could have been teasing, but she wasn’t. Tears sprung to my eyes.

“I guess you almost did,” I whispered. “I just thought it would be easier.”

Guilt washed over me. I felt sick. And then I woke up. Just a dream.

I haven’t really been thinking about giving up.  Just taking a break. I have a million and one excuses. And four kids. I’m not even back to work yet, and life is already so busy. I can’t even imagine what it will be like when the kids are back in school in the fall and I’m being pulled in every direction. There are nights I’d sell my soul for a shower and a glass of wine. Nights I’ve cried in relief upon seeing my bed.

I’m nursing Baby Sister and it’s going so well. With Little Brother, I had supply issues and I can’t help but wonder if dieting and exercising caused those problems. I rushed back to Weight Watchers when he was 17 days old and back to the gym when he was 7 weeks or so. Was it my fault he wasn’t getting enough to eat? Was I so concerned with myself that he might have suffered?

I waver between jumping back in, taking it easy, and taking a break. In the biggest of pictures, another year of nursing standing between me and my goal weight isn’t really that much time. I’m not sure I can go back and take it easy. Not sure I can watch my weight week after week without feeling discouraged that it’s not falling faster. I don’t mean I’ll spend the next year on my couch eating ice cream and brownies, but I’m not sure I can count calories (or Points) without making things worse for myself.   My goals seem so much further away now, as I’m reaching numbers I swore I’d never see again. It’s frustrating. It’s scary. It sucks.

I know me. I can see into my own future—I’ll spend the next 12 months riddled with anxiety that every drop I sweat during a workout will be the one that means I’ll be buying formula for Baby Sister, instead of breastfeeding like I wanted to*. I’ll spend every Sunday Morning in a Weight Watchers meeting, cheering for my friends’ losses and achievements, and crying in my car on the way home because I didn’t lose what I wanted to. In a year, I’ll maybe weigh a little less, but will it be worth the stress I’ll have caused myself?

Is it just another excuse? I know what I want, but I know what I don’t want, too. I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive, but I feel like, by making a decision either way, I’m giving up something.

So I won’t decide. I’ll do what I can. I’ll certainly TRY, but I’ll do it how I’m comfortable and in my own time. I will try really hard not to feel guilty. I will not feel guilty. I will NOT feel guilty.

*I’m absolutely not saying there’s anything wrong with formula. I have been lucky enough to be able to breastfeed my first two babies and I hope to continue to nurse Baby Sister for as long as I can. Not talking Time Magazine covers or anything, but at least a year. I don’t judge others for their personal decisions, and I would hope tonot be judged for mine.