The Start of My Postpartum Weightloss: Breastfeeding, Slimming World and My Hipster Vegan Baby

*Wobble wobble wobble*

Sorry. That was just the sound of me walking over to start this blog.

Nineteen weeks after the birth of my beautiful little 10lb 0oz daughter and I've realised it's probably time to start shifting this mum tum and locate my core (which currently appears to be made up entirely of marshmallow.) Now I wasn't a skinny girl before I had her- quite the contrary. I'm a 5"11, size 16 big Mumma with fat rolls for days and a hefty appetite. Since I can remember, I have fluctuated between a size 12 and 16, doing various fad diets and exercise plans. Atkins, Weight Watchers, Paleo, Raw Food, Slim Fast- I've done them all and they worked to varying degrees.

My issue is that I LOVE food. I love the social element of eating out and sharing food with friends, I love to cook and experiment with ingredients and flavours, and I just love the taste of good food and the feeling of a full belly. I also used to love a glass of wine on a night out- ah who am I kidding: a bottle. So in order to not become the Michelin woman, I've always had to exercise and luckily I love doing it.

Just before we found out we were going to have Freya, I'd started on a bit of a health kick ready for the summer. I rejoined Slimming World (after the success of losing two stone in 9 weeks between October and December 2014) bought some weights and a bike and started to hammer the at-home exercise. It felt so good.  I documented everything I did on my Instagram fitness blog (@ larouge_on_a_mission) which kept me really focused and accountable for everything I was eating. I managed to lose a stone, really tone up and felt amazing. Then, on the morning of the 17th of July, the chunder bus came to town, fifteen clear blue tests confirmed I was pregnant (we really didn't believe it) and severe morning sickness was to ensue for the next 12 weeks. 

During that time, the weight fell off me. I just couldn't keep food down and hated the taste and smell of everything. The only thing I could stomach was ready salted crisps and toast. Kris and I took my stepson, Eli, and the dogs on a week long camping holiday to Shell Island. Despite the beautiful weather and the heavenly sound of the waves kissing the golden sands, it was like being trapped in the depths of burning Hell. While the boys took the canoe out in the ocean and went sea fishing, I sat on the beach in near 30 degree heat, periodically throwing up into little pre-made sand sick bowls before covering it up like a disgraced dog. Gross? Yes. Necessary? Yes. I was a disaster.

So when it came to my 10 week midwife appointment, I had lost another 7lbs.  Luckily, at around 13 weeks, the sickness passed and my appetite resumed in supersize.  I not only ate for two, but probably eight full sized adults. I was a monster. Oh and the sweet tooth- I've never eaten so much chocolate in my life. By the time 42 weeks pregnant happened, I was massive. But I loved it.  I've never felt so confident in my own skin as I did when I was pregnant. I wore tight tops for the first time in my life and even showed a little boob which is unheard of. I loved my body.

In the first few weeks postpartum, the weight fell off me as people had promised it would with breast feeding. But out of nowhere, my appetite became insatiable. All I wanted to do was eat! In retrospect, I put this down to feeding a very hungry baby girl on demand, my baby blues (I'm an emotional eater and I don't discriminate against which emotion- happy, sad, jealous- pass me a slice of cake) and exhaustion. I just wanted comforting.

At nine weeks postpartum, I had piled on the weight. But my body started to feel a little more normal and so I thought it was probably time to get my arse- currently the size of a small country- in to gear.  I joined a local club called Mummyfit. The first session was a boot camp with prams- it felt so good to be moving again and it was so much fun watching Freya giggle in her pram as I ran, inadvertently twerking like Nicki Minaj with every step on account of the newly acquired junk in my trunk. But it was hard. The trauma of third degree tears and the damage such a massive baby had done to my bladder meant that with every squat jump and burpee, a little bit of wee escaped. I'd become bloody incontinent. Great. It actually really upset me; I'd been doing my pelvic floor exercises religiously. But more than that, it kind of hurt. I'd suffered severe birthing injuries 'down there' and now I was pushing and pulling my body in such a way that it hadn't been for over nine months. That same week I attempted Mummy Spin- my favourite class pre-baby. But every time I sat down after a standing hill sprint, the pain was as though I was being impaled by the saddle and not in a good way. I hadn't realised that I was still black and blue between my legs.

This was not my time to start exercising.

After that, I returned to gentle walking to keep my activity levels up. But with my constant low moods I didn't want to cook or eat healthily. I wanted a big emotional cuddle from Ben & Jerry; I wanted to spoon them all night long and for them to tell me everything was going to be OK. Maybe several times a night. I definitely wasn't ready to start Slimming World despite people saying: 'oh it's such an easy diet with or without a baby.' So the take outs, ice cream and chocolate continued to feed my darkness and they would still be doing so now if Freya hadn't been diagnosed with CMP (cows milk protein) allergy.

The day we found out, it was week 14 of 'colic'. But I knew it was something more than that. Nobody knows your child better than you- not even doctors sometimes. So we took Freya to the Urgent Care Centre at the hospital where the doctor agreed Freya was in agony with her tummy and reflux and so referred us urgently to a paediatrician. In the meantime, I was told to cut out all dairy from my diet. But doctor, I'm currently on a prescription of ice cream and chocolate. What will I do?! 

This was probably the kick start I needed.  If anything was going to encourage me to stop eating that junk, it was the health of my baby. We went straight down to the super market and bought a range of soya products and immediately eliminated dairy from my diet. The difference to Freya in the first couple of weeks was unbelievable and to this day her stomach issues have totally subsided.

At this point I felt like it was the perfect time to start eating well and losing weight; my mind and body felt healthy. But because I was worried about my milk production I didn't want to do anything too extreme. That's when I was told about the Slimming World breast feeding programme; a diet totally supported by The Royal College of Midwifery. I had managed to lose so much weight before and could eat loads on the plan, so it made total sense to rejoin.

On Wednesday 5th August, I started my postpartum weight loss journey. The Slimming World food has been so good- hardly any restrictions which works well for me, just a little harder than last time as I try to figure out getting my Healthy Option 'A' (dairy) in due to my little hipster vegan baby. But we have started to figure it out. I also worked out three times with my personal trainer husband (I really have no excuse do I) and at long last I have built some pelvic floor strength and don't feel the urge to pee every time I move. Result.

Hello, normality. I've missed you.

At my first weigh in this week, I'd managed to lose 6.5lbs in six days. What an incentive to keep going. Plus my milk supply is as plentiful as ever* and I feel incredible. This is only the beginning - I have another 35lbs to lose before I reach my goal and even then I probably need to readjust my target. But it's a start and I'm so proud of myself for doing it, after all my mind and body have gone through.

So my Mama La Rouge tips on postpartum weight loss and dieting:

• Don't rush in, especially if you had a traumatic labour. I did and set myself back by months.
• You have to do it because you feel ready- don't feel pressurised by other mums who have those magical 'snap back' bodies or haven't gone through the same emotional and physical trauma of labour that you have. You will know when the time is right. Be led by your body.
• Don't let weight loss even enter your head in the first few weeks. You are going through a lot- enjoy your baby, eat what makes you feel good and relax. My god, relax. I wish I'd listened to everyone and slept when she did. 
• Slimming World is great for breast feeding Mummas. They encourage you to eat all the right foods for your baby and milk production. Plus you can eat so much, meaning you can beat the breast feeding uber appetite.
• Start with gentle walks with baby in the sling or pram. Suck in your core as you walk (and the pelvic floors- you really need to do these) and enjoy spending time with your little angel. You can step it up a level when you're feeling ready.

I will be posting progress updates throughout my journey. I've got a bit of mountain to climb but I'm absolutely on it.

Holly

Click here to find your nearest Slimming World club; go and chat to their advisors about weight loss whilst breast feeding.

*I've also been taking 'Fenugreek' tablets to help with my milk production. I can't recommend them enough. Almost an immediate difference in my supply. I bought mine from Holland & Barrett.  

New Beginnings: A Why and Wherefore

I've wanted to start a blog for years, but despite my annoyingly overactive brain, my continuous internal monologues, my love for the written word and my ability to find myself in the midst of the most unusual and extraordinary situations, I've never really known where to start. I have done a fair amount of travelling, but my spare time was spent boozing and dancing my nights away with my twenty - something counterparts. I have plenty to say about music, film and the arts, but could never decipher my audience or purpose. Then, twelve months ago, life as I knew it changed forever.

I met my husband in 2007- I had returned home to Shropshire, disillusioned after my second attempt at London living, and decided that after being pursued by him for years, I was going to let this attractive father of one take me out. Fast forward five years and we married in the beautiful Spanish town of Nerja.  In that time I qualified as an English teacher and secured a position at a lovely local school, we brought two furry babies into our family and moved house three times. By 2014, we decided that perhaps it was time to bring another tiny little ginger human into the world. What we didn't expect was to hit a bump in the road before we had even got the chance to pick up speed.  

My husband found out that he would find it very difficult to conceive a child naturally and though he could, getting fertility help wasn't off the cards. Seven months of ovulation tests, fertility apps and reminder alarms later and we finally managed to do it ourselves (I'll skim over the part where I sent Kris a text to tell him to 'hurry home sexy; I'm ovulating and in bed waiting' only to find I'd sent it to my Dad. One panicked phone call to my mother later and the phone was retrieved and messaged deleted.)

Though I never forgot the miracle of pregnancy or the blessing we were given, it had its highs and lows. Lows: 12 weeks of first trimester morning sickness, becoming stressed with work and being signed off when my blood pressure sky - rocketed and moving house at 41 weeks pregnant. Highs: feeling my little human growing and moving inside me, feeling closer than ever to Kris and adoring my pregnancy body.  

Getting ready for the arrival of baby was fun: attending hypnobirthing classes; baby shopping; ALL of the baby name books and half hourly name suggestion texts to my (then policeman) husband; building cots; baby showers and decorating the nursery. But despite reading every book going about labour (which was a futile exercise as everything I read and planned went out the window. My serene, candle lit, atmospheric ocean sounds, no pain hypnobirth turned into a week in hospital, four inductions, water broken via massively unnatural sharp stabby object, intense contractions, 28 hour labour, short lived birthing pool stint, failed epidural, forceps delivery followed by 900ml blood loss and roughly ONE MILLION stitches to my third degree tears) nothing prepared me for the real challenge. Motherhood.

The moment I held Freya Ivy Rose in my arms, my body was overwhelmed with love. I looked into her beautiful eyes and the dawning realisation that she solely relied on me washed over me in a cocktail of sheer joy and utter fear. Here I am, a thirty year old woman who still has to call her Mummy to get her advice on what to wear that day, now totally in charge of keeping this perfectly fragile and utterly reliant little being alive. That first night alone together in a dark hospital ward, two drips in my arm, a catheter installed, totally bed bound, wound dressings being changed every two hours (by a nurse that was my ex- boyfriends current fiancee- a whole different blog) was scary. Just me and her. Nobody else on the ward, the nurses a panic button away, husband at home in our bed, visitors gone- what do I actually do with you, little one? Tears of joy flowed, panic raised from my chest to my throat, my heart felt like it beat only for her yet the fear of responsibility was overwhelming me to the point of regression and calling MY Mum to come and look after ME. I panicked that I wasn't ready for this. 

After our first wobbly night together, waking to see her face in the perspex box beside me was probably on par with the combined feeling of joy of every Christmas and birthday rolled into one.  I don't think I will ever experience that particular feeling again. Pure and overwhelming happiness. There began the tears that would flow continually for about six weeks. Tears of love, agonising pain as I tried to function with my internal and external stitches, from the flashbacks of my horrific birthing experience- I was a total basket case.

Baby blues hit me pretty hard. My dignity went out the window as I peed in the shower to stop the stinging from my stitches. I didn't leave the house for fear of something happening with baby that I couldn't handle and strangers looking on at the terrible new mother that couldn't make her baby stop crying. Breast feeding was painful and left me with bleeding nipples and mastitis. I felt utterly helpless as she screamed in agony at what was dubbed colic for 14 weeks but would later be diagnosed as dairy and lactose intolerance (a lesson learned in ALWAYS trusting my motherly instincts and again another blog!). I wondered why other mummies made it look so easy yet I felt so utterly crap and incapable. Those were dark days. 

Four months later and though my life is ruled by nap times and I'm still woken up at least every two hours throughout the night (I write with baby using my boob as a pacifier as I feed her on my third wake of the night- it's 11.45pm!), I'm starting to feel like the old me. Well, the new old me. 

So here starts new beginnings. This blog is going to be some in retrospect of the last four months and mostly the experiences we share as a family as we start our journey through life. Expect some rants, some reviews, a little about music, film, food, health, relationships but above all some very frank accounts of life as 'La Rouge: The 30 Year Old Mummy Version'

Holly 

**La Rouge is a nickname I was given many years ago by two beautiful friends on account of my red hair. Maybe also my sexy and mysterious worldliness. But almost certainly just because of my red hair.