By Heather Millbach 

This blog entry was going to be about how I manage to train as a mother of five. However, as I started to write, it occurred to me that I needed to bite the bullet and bare it all. I needed to share what I don’t share with anybody and I needed to share it with…well, everybody. I recently commented to a friend that even after three years I still feel like my weight loss journey is personal and the struggle feels like it was just yesterday. There are days, despite how much I have changed, when the place I once was, is still very raw and present. All that being said, with the encouragement of my dearest friends, this is my story. I hope that somewhere in here you find a place to start, some strength to continue, or a way to relate it in your own journey.

Three and a half years ago I gave birth to Adam, my fifth child. When I stepped onto the scale, around the time of delivery, I was 220 lbs. Horrible eating habits, an inactive lifestyle, and five pregnancies in ten years had brought me to this point. I was shocked and embarrassed. As a 30 year old, small framed, 5 foot 2 (and a half!) inch women…I knew I was grossly overweight. By every definition of the word, I was obese. I found myself in a place I never imagined. Overweight. Unhealthy. Uncomfortable. Insecure. I was all of those.

Growing up as the youngest of six children I never worried about weight. Like most kids I was extremely active. Sports and playing outside were a part of every day life. I ate what I wanted and grew up in a home that had everything from carrots to cupcakes available to chomp on. The meals served in our house were All-American.  Meat went with potatoes. Bread and butter were served with nearly every meal and dessert was always to follow.  A normal week consisted of spaghetti, pot roast, home made burgers, Sloppy Joes, and meatloaf. My mom was, and still is, the ultimate homemaker.

 I never quite caught on to my mom’s amazing ability to do all that. Even as my house filled with nearly the same amount of children she had, my style was far lazier. Fast food, frozen food, take out, delivery, meals from a can or a box were commonly passed off as dinner.  I knew it wasn’t healthy but I was overwhelmed and uninspired. Words that not only appeared at mealtime but when I stepped on the scale and looked in the mirror as well.

Six months after I had Adam, I decided enough was enough. Well, that’s not really how it happened and I suppose if I’m going to “bare it all” I should share the real breaking point. I had volunteered at the elementary school for a special event that my oldest child Jake was doing with his class. A week later the teacher sent home a thank you card with (gasp)… a photo of me volunteering. I don’t know what the card had written inside but I do know that I sat and sobbed during an entire naptime with a six month old Adam asleep in my arms and a picture of woman that I no longer recognized in my lap. I was devastated. I had become the fat mom. How could I teach my children to take care of themselves when I clearly was not taking care of myself? How could I teach them to love themselves when my health was an obvious contradiction? These little people counted on me and I was looking and feeling like a big, fat failure. Worse yet, my whole purpose of starting a family young and having a house full of kids was to be an active parent. How could I keep up with them in this condition?

 Two days later I found myself standing in line at Weight Watchers. Humiliated, and very skeptical, I filled out the form and stayed for a meeting. I had a few friends and family members who had found some success with the program but I wasn’t so sure it was going to work for me. After my first week of tracking everything I ate the scale reflected a five-pound weight loss. I became a little less skeptical, optimistic even, but more importantly, I became motivated. I began reading anything and everything I could get my hands on. I researched ways to lose weight and exercise. I stuck to the feeling that if it seemed to be good to be true, it probably was. No pills, no shakes, no lotions or potions, soup diets or meat diets. The more I learned, the more I realized how sedentary my life had become. Sure, I was chasing after babies during the day, but my nights were filled with sitting, eating, and watching TV. I didn’t exercise and I ate like crap.  I had developed horrible habits. I’d eat whatever wasn’t finished and make chocolate chip cookies every night “for the kids”. This wasn’t a diet. This had to be a complete lifestyle change.

 That is my mantra, complete lifestyle change. That is what brought changes. Healthier cooking for my family, regular exercise, and taking responsibility for my overall health became a priority. It wasn’t always easy and it wasn’t fast. I dropped an average of a pound and a half a week until I reached my initial goal, nearly a year later, of 135 pounds. Once I had finished with the Weight Watchers program I began exploring other ways of eating. I decided to became a vegetarian. Soon after that, I decided to try a vegan lifestyle. That started nudging me to my next goal of 125 pounds.

 Running, which at one time I felt was something you do only when being chased, has become an amazing outlet for me. In addition, I searched for other ways to add to my newfound active lifestyle. Kickboxing and weight training are now part of my daily routine. I was blessed with a tremendous amount of support from my family and amazing husband, Mica. Along the way, I found cheerleaders in my incredibly understanding friends, and eventually started training with outstanding, knowledgeable partners. This is where my journey brought me, and where I am so very thankful to be today.

 By no means is my journey over. The health and fitness world offers new information everyday on how we can take better care of ourselves. My hunger for that information hasn’t gone away. I pray it never does. And, even though my little ones are getting bigger, I’m proud that I’m having no trouble keeping up with them.