We have a newly-minted kiddo. That’s an established fact. He is cleaned, fed, and loved all day long.
Here’s the problem: I’m not cleaned, fed, or loved all day long. It’s embarrassing to admit that, but it’s the truth. I’m struggling hard with self-care. And I also kind of buck up against even the admission of struggling with self-care, because parents in general are sometimes tsk, tsk‘d for putting their needs on the to do list at all.
But that oxygen mask metaphor that I used back when Birdy was born? Applies to the little Guy, too. I can’t take care of him, or her, or anyone if I’m off my own game.
Maybe I’m not off my game so much as I need to change the game. Gone are the days of plotting and spreadsheeting fertility goals, and with them went the fastidious monitoring of blood sugars and doctor’s appointments. It’s okay to loosen the reins a bit there, but I need to keep up some semblance of diabetes management. Checking blood sugars? On it. Using the features of my insulin pump to my advantage, like inputting my blood sugar and carb intake and letting it calculate my insulin needs? On it. Keeping my CGM graph top of mind instead of succumbing to alarm fatigue? I can do that, too.
But oh the exercise and food thing is a frigging quest. Uphill. In the snow. With that Sisyphus ball thing.
I thrive when held accountable, and I need accountability in order to reignite some healthier habits. There was a short discussion about this on Facebook last week, which led to the creation of a small Accountabilibetes group, where we’re trying to help one another stick with some kind of exercise program, and that camaraderie has been a big boost. Even though the weather has been fuck all cold (snowed last night), I’ve been back on the treadmill the last few days, easing in with some interval training that’s heavy on the incline and gentler on the speed for now. (I’ve started watching The West Wing, which I’ve never, ever seen even an episode of before. Now I have seven seasons of Sorkin-saturated dialog to work through. Should keep me entertained throughout the winter treadmill months.) A fully-charged Fitbit helps, too, as I’ve avoided that thing for the last 12 months as well. As far as food goes, improved food choices usually follow exercise for me, so I know that I’ll battle food temptations less when I’m physically active.
So far, it’s only been a few days, but I’m hoping that a few more days will wet cement these habits. Once that mental cement sets, I’ll be in my pre-pregnancy planning circuit and my health overall will improve. Right? RIIIIIIIIIIIGHT.
Before that cement dries, I need to stick my finger in it and write “It’s worth it.” And maybe also draw a cat out of the word “cat.”