At work today, I overheard a conversation between two men about losing weight. (Hey, if you don’t want people to hear your conversation, don’t have it in a room full of cubicles.) One guy had just started running, and the other was asking him about how it was going.
The new runner said he had lost about 30 pounds so far, and was feeling pretty good about his increasing speed and results. The non-runner listed a bunch of excuses, such as he doesn’t have time, he has never been a runner, etc. The new runner replied “I hate it. I hate running. But I love hunting in the mountains, and last time I went, I was so winded I couldn’t enjoy it. I enjoy that week of hunting so much that I’m willing to wake up before the rest of my family and go for a run every morning.”
This guy is motivated by hunting. Hunting! I mean, good for him. Whatever does it for you, and he found what does it for him. I compare that to my motivation, and I feel kind of … disgusted with myself.
My motivation is to have another baby. Yet I find myself recently sabotaging myself quite a bit. I started a Whole 30 in July and after two weeks found myself eating buffet Chinese and even a Blizzard from DQ by the end of the month. What in the world? Am I not ready? I better get ready, toot suite, as I am rapidly approaching 37. My ovaries are not getting any younger and I have extremely low estrogen and progesterone levels. I am scared it will never happen, and then what? I am also scared it will happen and I will lose another baby. And then what? Can I handle that? I would have to, I guess.
I mostly concentrate on food and not much exercise, currently. I am not able to run as my knee grinds and hurts much too much at my current weight to make that effective. I mean, I could power through it. I have the ability to do so, but mechanical problems such as I have with my knee shouldn’t be pushed through. Pain is there for a reason. Maybe after losing another 40 pounds or so (I’ve lost about 40 since April 2013). At the end of the year last year I was doing a HIIT program that I could do in the house, and I had worked up to about an hour workout. I find myself now spending too much time in the garden or making excuses about how hot it is, and I know I need to start again. Why don’t I?
The bad part of being motivated by having another baby is that there is only one metric of success: getting (and staying) pregnant. Early in my PCOS journey, there were measurable changes with cycle length. As I lost weight, my cycle went from 35-45 days, down to the normal 28-29 days. Every time my ovulation day moved back a few days towards normal, that was a success. That was concrete evidence that what I was doing was doing some good. Now that I have that down, there is no other measurable metric. Scale and a BFP are it.
My Na-Pro Technology doctor, at my last appointment, said there is still hope and that she has seen women get pregnant with the low estrogen levels I have. But she snuck in there for the first time that “even if you don’t get pregnant, we have gotten you more health.” Excessive estrogen can cause some types of cancer, and long cycles with estrogen dominance that women with PCOS have higher rates of those cancers. She said by getting my cycles down to “normal” that I have decreased that risk. But. Is she letting me down easy? Is she trying to prep me for life after “not possible to have another?” What happens to any motivation I have then?