Freedom, self control and keeping to a diet

Life - God - has a fine sense of irony sometimes.

I'm on a diet.

Now, to most people that would hardly be a big deal... but to me it is - I don't think I have ever said those words before!

Back when I was trapped in food hell (I shared a bit more about this here), it would have killed me to admit I had anything other than a nondescript relationship with food. Nobody could know. The fact that my weight losses and gains were impossible to miss, the fact that I had to carry my shame in public, in my body for all the world to see, how I hated it - but I would never say a word.

Later, when I was in 12-Step recovery, I learned to admit publicly that I had a problem with food and was following a programme to address it. [The fact that I would never eat outside of three committed, weighed and measured meals - which sometimes meant taking the scale out in public and weighing my food at restaurants, conferences, working lunches etc. - could hardly be missed.] I was able to name the problem - addressing it as an addiction, a mental health problem.

And then, without asking for it because I thought I had all the freedom I would ever have by following that programme, I was simply and suddenly set free. God just did that.

My new found freedom meant that for the first time in a decade I was able to neither binge or starve - that food was actually just fuel, however enjoyable, I didn't have to think much about it or obsess about what to eat and what not to eat. I felt very strongly that not excluding anything [vegan], not restricting myself, just eating in response to hunger and fullness was the key to keeping that freedom. Sometimes I'd happen to get very hungry. Sometimes I overate. Most of the time, I ate what I fancied at the time and stopped when I had enough. If this sounds simple and obvious to you, let me tell you: to me, this was the holy grail of utter and complete freedom.

That's how I've eaten and maintained a stable weight for years now, since the time I was freed.

And now... I'm on a diet. Oh, the irony!

I have developed gestational (pregnancy) diabetes, genetically caused. Until the baby is here, I need to stay away from sugar. It's a diet.

Predictably enough, sugar is what I really really want now that it's off limits. I can sense the old ways, those old train tracks of obsession and crazy thinking - they are overgrown with weeds, but they are still there.

Perhaps, as a friend recently observed when I shared this with her, this is the next step in the freedom journey. Because freedom isn't doing what you want, all the time; it's the freedom to choose. Freedom is being able to be self-controlled. That is what I hope to learn in the next 10 or so weeks, until baby is here.

And yeah, I'll admit, I'm kind of scared.

Our Love Story, Part 3 - one proposal, two weddings, three rings

I've loved writing this little series, like taking a slow stroll down memory lane. Even though it's been less than three years - those were three eventful, life changing years and we're hurtling at speed towards the next milestone (baby!) so taking the time to sit and walk down that memory lane at leisure has been so lovely.

One Proposal

November 2012. It was a weekend like any other, I was in Bristol visiting Mr. and we were home, at his place. We were having a relaxed day with not much on at all. Over the time we'd spent talking, it had gone dark (as it does early in the day at that time of year) and we hadn't put the lights on. We sat, facing each other, and he went quiet as he held both my hands and seemed to hold them quite tightly. I just enjoyed the moment, a shared silence. After a while, I heard him say - very softly - "Please, marry me."

There was no fanfare. He wasn't on one knee. Because it had gone dark I couldn't see his face very well and I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.

"Are you asking...?" was my response, after a pause to try and make sure he hadn't said something else entirely.

"Yes. Yes, please, will you marry me?" he asked again, clearly this time. I just about managed to get my "Yes" out before just about falling into his arms.

Ring no. 1

After a while, he disentangled himself, took a breath, looked at me and said, "I don't have a ring..." - but then, having had an idea, he got up and went to the next room which was full of DIY materials as he'd been working on the bathroom. I heard him rumbling around some metal bits. I followed him over, and found him kneeling over a toolbox. Obviously having found what he'd been looking for, he turned to me - still on his knee - took my hand, and slipped onto my finger... a jubilee clamp!

That was ring no. 1, which I wore with butterflies in my belly for a week. He engraved a heart onto the clamp. It's still a treasured possession, but I don't wear it, as it oxidises!

Ring no. 2

A week later, we were in York and came across a vintage jeweller's. I got to choose my own engagement ring there, a beautiful 1920's art deco platinum ring without stone - that's ring no. 2. This is what I wear on my left hand.

The first wedding

We spent Christmas 2012 with my family in Austria, which meant that Mr.'s parents didn't see us at that time. So we invited them to come to Bristol for a weekend in January to celebrate and exchange presents.

Having asked them to come on Friday for a celebratory lunch, I took that day off work and drove to Bristol to meet up with Mr. and his parents just before lunchtime. We met and parked at the registry office's car park. I still remember Mr.'s dad asking if we were sure it would be no problem to park there as we went for our lunch and Mr. smilingly reassuring him that he was quite certain it would be fine... because, instead of leaving the grounds, we walked into the registry office - having a little errand to run before our lunch celebration, which was our legal marriage, at which they were the witnesses!

On our first wedding day

Once we entered the building, they understood, and the surprise was perfect.

Mr. and I were legally married in a tiny room, with a total of six persons present: ourselves, Mr.'s parents, the registrar and the officiant. The room was filled with sunlight streaming in, and the unforgettable moment for me was when Mr. faced me and made his vows with those kind eyes never leaving mine. He put ring no. 2 on my finger again, so the engagement ring became the wedding ring.

For more than two months after we became man and wife in the eyes of the law, nothing else changed. I continued to work and live in Reading and visiting Mr. on weekends, and we attended a pre-marriage course at our church: we just had a heady little secret!

The second wedding

We had set our 'official' date not long after our engagement, but had our legal wedding over two months before the official date because registry offices are apparently very busy places and we just about managed to grab the January date! The date we'd chosen was the weekend before Easter, for the practical reason that I wasn't actually able to finish my job in Reading until the end of March.

Rings no. 3 - matching wedding rings.
Engraved on mine: "I am my beloved's..."
Engraved on his: "...and my beloved is mine"
(from Song of Songs)

I had always avoided making wedding plans without a groom. I've never been the girl to pick out dresses and rings while still single - just didn't want to go there. After all, I wanted the groom to have a big say in everything to do with the wedding, not just arrive on the day in a suit! So when I actually did have a wedding to plan, I didn't do it on my own: Mr. and I were a team. We thought about what we valued and what mattered to us, and what didn't. The result was something of an unconventional, yet totally perfect-for-us event...

We're not into formal things. We love people. At our wedding, we wanted to be able to invite absolutely everyone! Friends, family, co-workers: it was to be a day of bringing everyone together. No RSVP's, no gifts, no registries - just a celebration for all. Luckily our Bristol pastor was totally up for it when we asked if we could just get married on a Sunday morning, in the course of a regular church service. This was the perfect solution: for us, there was no building or band to hire, no number of guests to plan for, no seating arrangements or decorating costs. And for everyone who came, an opportunity to hear the Gospel!

For me, my wedding day was also the day I became a member of this new church family in Bristol. They embraced the celebrations with huge enthusiasm! Everyone was dressed up on the day; one lovely lady took it upon herself to make us a wedding cake (we hadn't planned on having one); a professional chef, member of the church, cooked up a delicious buffet lunch so that after the service, everyone could just stay put and eat together.

Memorable moment of the day (although there were so many!) - after walking down the aisle to meet Mr. at the front, he leaned in for a kiss, which I refused... to everyone's great amusement... he made up for it at the end of our vows with a kiss that just about swept me off my feet!

And that's our story, folks.

Our love story - part 2

If there was a subtitle to this post, it would be Faith & Love.

When we met in Fuerteventura, it took us all week to establish that we were definitely going to meet up again, so it wasn't until the flight home that we had a real, deep conversation about... well, deep things. He asked me if I knew how old he was, and I honestly didn't - and was honestly surprised to find him 12 years my senior, which I'd never have guessed! Also, divorced. None of it thwarted the sense of peace I had, though, as I sat there in the airport cafe with him holding hands.

On the flight back, we had four more hours to talk. Cutting to the chase, at one point I asked: "What do you think of God?" - a pause, a breath, a gulp later, the answer boiled down to agnostic; he thought there was more than just the physical, that there was a spiritual dimension, but not a personal God with thoughts and feelings. My next question was, "So what do you live for?" - another pause, breath and gulp, I think he found that one harder to answer...

Once we'd met up back in the UK, where he came to a carols by candlelight service where I was part of the choir, I think he was intrigued by my faith. I hadn't kissed him, and had told him I didn't really want to kiss anyone other than my husband. [I still laugh at remembering this - when I said that, his taken-aback response was, "Where is he??" - so had to explain!] So my faith certainly had an impact on the way our relationship was progressing, which is perhaps why he wanted to learn more about it. When I asked if he'd like to do an Alpha Course and explained that it was an opportunity to learn about and ask questions about the Christian faith, he immediately said yes.

Having found a church near him that ran the course, for the next three months I would travel to Bristol every Wednesday after work to attend it with him. I was amazed and humbled to see him grapple with, question, and seriously examine the claims put before him with an open and curious mind, never just dismissing or ignoring an issue. I remember how I learned about Christianity and fought every. step. of. the. way. to find arguments against everything that I found! 

I had a very hard time reconciling my growing love for him with the fact that, until a good three months into being together, we didn't share something as basic and deep as our faith: the defining factor in my outlook, world view, and identity. I couldn't stop feeling more and more deeply for him, yet I had no idea what he'd be thinking at the end of the course! It was a scary, emotionally risky time but I could not hold back.

Taken on our wedding day,
just before I came down
the aisle. One of my favourite
photos of him, ever.

By the end of the course, Mr. had not had all his questions answered - I think no one ever has every single question answered - but he found it made sense and decided to follow Jesus. In his words: "I knew I needed help and direction in how to do life well. Glad I found it." Too easy, I wondered? Is he doing this because of me? 

I made a point never to ask him if he was going to connect with that church, if he was going there on Sunday, if he was going to small group... I had to see what he'd do. And what he did was run with it. He became part of a small group (which I visited maybe twice before we were married; it was his group, his church, his walk and growth) and dove into this new life as if he'd been waiting for this all his life. I guess he had - I guess we all have - just some of us are perhaps more aware of that. 

He knows he's found a good thing, and he's grabbed it with both hands. I feel privileged to have shown him to the signpost, but he's walked that road himself.

Our love story - Part 1

There's a wedding at our church tomorrow, two dear friends getting married and we'll be there cheering. And earlier this week another dear friend in a distant place has been in touch to say she's found love.

So today I'm reminiscing, thinking back to the heady days of getting to know Mr. and growing closer - sometimes I feel so settled in our togetherness, it's strange to think I haven't always been with him. But it's only been about two and a half years since we first met! So, if you'll please indulge me, I'll try to keep it short but this is the story of our love.

We met on holiday. Going with a group seemed like good option for me as a single who didn't want to be alone on holiday, but neither did I want to go on a 'singles' trip. I found Traveleyes, who offer group holidays where half the people in the group are blind/partially sighted and the other half are sighted. As a sighted guide, you just act as a friend and helper to a different person each day. And you get a discount! I figured that's a great way to meet some interesting people and have a fun holiday as well as being helpful, so needing to get away from the UK in winter and get some sun, I went to Fuerteventura with them. And so did Mr. for much the same reasons.

We met at Stansted Airport. He was late. I was wearing huge sunglasses. He tells me he didn't really know what to think of me hiding behind those; I was immediately attracted to him. He's handsome, but especially, his kind eyes.

He took this pic of us - at the time just
being friends - that was pretty much the
first time we touched, I'm quite sure.

The entire week was an intricate dance of getting to know one another, while we each had responsibility for a new person each day and wanted to make sure we spent quality time with them. We went on each of the optional outings, and often chatted. Somehow we happened to sit together at breakfast and dinner, and it wasn't long before others caught on that something was developing... in particular, one couple who teased and encouraged us in equal measure - until, on Friday at the end of the week (Saturday was home time) the guy more or less ordered Mr. to put his arm around me. Which he did. And then we walked back to the hotel arm in arm, and that sort of settled the matter.

The next day, home day, we knew we'd meet up again. I drove home late at night from the airport (he and others were staying overnight as it was very late) and heard nothing from him the next morning. I sat on my hands, got busy cleaning, trying to read - until finally, after midday, he texted. He'd thought I was going to sleep in and hadn't wanted to disturb. Phew!

I'm pretty sure that from that day on, we were in touch at least every day. He never 'played': I knew, all the time, that he was sincere and that he liked me. No games. I consciously let him set the pace - mostly - but he was always clear and honest with me: a quality of his that I still value hugely.

How did we get from there - December 2011 - to here - married with baby on the way? Stay tuned for the next installment....

Why I pick city over suburbs - even & especially with family

A non-baby post, for a change!

Our 'spare room' - which will be baby's room.
Small but perfectly formed...

We live on a boat. A large boat as boats go, but a small space by most local standards. It's a confined space without outdoor space of our own, and that has some downsides - notably, the dog needs to be walked every time he needs the toilet, he can't just be let out. Later on when we've got the child, equally, I can't just open the back door and say, out you go!

Beyond that I truly struggle to come up with downsides. I love living in the city. My grandmother, with whom I rarely agreed about anything, was a city dweller all her adult life (and brought up two children in Vienna) and could not understand why anybody wouldn't choose to live in such a convenient place. I lived in New York City for a while and I'm still in touch with an amazing family with three girls who choose to live in Manhattan, right in the place which the majority of people (who can afford to) will leave as soon as they start families.

Bristol certainly doesn't compare with NYC in scale, but it's city living, make no mistake. So, you ask, it's crowded and living space is small and why do I love this?

One of our local parks - usually plenty of dogs
to play with!

• I get to live on a boat! - OK this isn't the kind of city living most people experience, but.... a boat! The character, the freedom to roam, the water's reflections on the ceiling... I love our home.
• Walking everywhere. Within (easy) walking distance are my dentist, GP, vet, a convenience store, and pretty much all the attractions tourists come here for. Within longer walking distance is my work, the main city centre with all its shops and services, the hospital, local markets. Our car gets used, on average, twice a week - the Mr. cycles to work as it's too far to walk, so he gets a workout each day without having to think about it.
  Not using the car has several advantages:
• It keeps me [somewhat] fit to walk rather than drive places.
• My Mr. enjoys cycling and it keeps him seriously fit - his route is very hilly!
• Wear & tear on the car, and fuel cost, is much reduced. 
• If I need to get somewhere in a hurry I can drive, but most of the time the walk to wherever I'm going takes me as long (short) as it would if I lived in the suburbs and drove to things.
• No gardening / ground maintenance. It's no accident that we have no allotment... I can't stand gardening. I'm not sorry to have no grounds to maintain! I do love a good outdoor space, however, and there are five large outdoor spaces within easy walking distance. We call the closest one, a small green under a flyover right by the river, 'our backyard' - almost the entire way to it is car free and the dog can go off lead, once there we can sit on benches or in the grass as he explores in safety. I look forward to times spent with our little one there too. If we want to walk a little further, there are proper woods to explore, a stately home with its grounds, ponds, rolling hills... how can a puny piece of yard compare?
• Neighbours. Now this may again be specific to our situation, but we know and talk to our neighbours. We help each other out. Anywhere I've lived in suburbs people rarely even knew their neighbours, and since everyone has their own large house / space to retreat to, life doesn't really happen in shared spaces the way it does in the city - where much of the living is done outside the small home, like in parks, libraries, or in our case, sitting in the sunshine on the pontoon with the neighbours. 
• Community. A different kind, not thinking about immediate neighbours but communities of interests. Whatever your interests: in the city, you'll find a group of like-minded people doing interesting stuff. I played Volleyball in New York City, and ran with the Hash House Harriers; in the last few months I've been astonished at the amount of community spirit and support for local mums. There are baby friendly cafes with baby/toddler activities; regular meet-ups for walks; plenty of baby/toddler activities to get involved in and make friends. If you're lucky enough to find an interest-based group in the suburbs that chimes with your own interests, good for you - but mostly, if it does exist, it's probably quite a long drive away.
• Culture. This from a totally non-arty person. I appreciate having local history and culture right around me, being able to access landmarks and tourist attractions and - in the future, with kiddo in tow - museums, the zoo, aquarium, libraries... all of which run kid-friendly programmes and features. Free and cheap opportunities to learn and entertain kids abound here.

I have never felt confined in the middle of a city. I don't always love all aspects of cities - in larger ones, the pollution, overcrowding, sheer noise and so on can make me crave a getaway into silence and solitude. But I always come back to the city. It's where so much life happens, and I can't wait to introduce our little one to the bustling life of the city!

A label for everyone: looks like I'll be a 'crunchy mama'

In trying to get ready for the baby adventure, I'm reading and learning lots. One of the things I've learned so far is that, since mothering is a mass pursuit (by which I mean, the very vast majority of all women do it), everything I might want to do or consider has been done or considered by someone else before. Here's a truth: nothing I do, think or consider in relation to my child is unique. Someone else has already done, thought, or considered it.

I think that's great! In the age of the Internet, I can learn from the experiences of others and hopefully avoid some of their mistakes.

Labels for everyone

Hippie baby... uh, no.

It also means there are groups of people with labels on. Think of 'tiger mothers', 'earth mamas', you name it... I certainly don't go around looking for labels and then trying to conform to any particular label. Although there can be comfort and support in that, because similar people cluster together and help each other. I've always done my own thing: I suppose I collect labels more like scout badges, never just one, and they don't usually go together.

So for example, I'm a vegan Christian. A Christian vegan. I have yet to meet another, online or in person - which puzzles me really, given that compassion ought to be a central Christian tenet, yet in the evangelical circles I move in this seems to apply almost exclusively to humans. Christians and vegans tend to be in pretty much opposite camps, for reasons unfathomable to me - vegans being (generally unfairly) associated by the other camp with unwashed hippies, Christians being (equally unfairly) associated with right wing homophobes. I like to think I'm neither unwashed, nor right wing or homophobic - I just try to follow truth (Christianity) and lovingkindness (veganism) without seeing them as diametrically opposed.

Crunchy?

Now crunchy is an interesting one - why that designation I have no idea (a shared affinity for crunchy granola? Crunchy over smooth peanut butter?)... I've come across that label several times when searching for things / ideas totally unrelated to each other, so I couldn't help but notice a pattern... looks like the things I'm considering, ways I plan to raise my child, often conforms with the crunchy label. Not always, mind! Urban Dictionary defines a crunchy mama like this:

Mother who supports homebirth, breastfeeding, baby wearing, cloth diapering, co-sleeping, gentle discipline, etc. One who questions established medical authority; tends to be vegetarian and/or prepare all-organic foods. See crunchy and hippie.

Here's the hippie label rearing its head again! (still no flowers in my hair). But yeah... here's how I plan to 'crunch' it...

• Homebirth: totally would, if it wasn't for the fact that this is a boat and if something goes wrong, I would need to be transported some 100 metres down the pontoon and up a ramp before getting to a road to an ambulance. Not a good plan. Plan B, a midwife-led birthing centre with a home-from-home atmosphere, feels safer and I still hope I'll never have to actually see a doctor.
• Breastfeeding: can't understand why everyone doesn't... it's free, it's nutritious, it helps you lose the weight, it bonds you to baby, no faffing about with bottles and sterilising and all that malarkey... oh yeah and as for breastfeeding in public: whyever not? I often eat in public as well, why shouldn't a baby? That said, I like to keep my boobs to myself and my Mr. (well and baby) so I expect I'll cover up in some way. Not so crunchy.
• Baby wearing: partly to do with space on our boat, but definitely I also see benefits in keeping baby close where they feel safe, protected, and warm!
• Cloth diapering: £300 for an all-new kit of cloth nappies and all you need (if bought new, which I won't do - now that's crunchy! - my kit, which is almost complete, cost £20) or £'000's over the years with disposables. Also, it takes about 3kg of raw material to make a cloth nappy versus about 120kg for disposables. That said, my newborn will start in disposables because I'm not totally mad - I'll give myself a couple of weeks to get used to baby!
• Co-sleeping: again, a space consideration, but even if that wasn't the case baby would definitely be with us. Why would I banish a tiny baby who experiences their world through immediate experiences like closeness, safety, or abandonment... to their own room? 
• Gentle discipline: yeah, but let's emphasise that both gentle and discipline are of equal weight here. I won't take no $h!t from a 2-year-old.
• Vegetarian: yeah totally. I wouldn't give my child harmful substances. As they get older they will have a choice, but I'll definitely make sure it's an informed choice.
• All-organic: nah. Not on our budget. 

I suppose all of the above just seem like common sense to me, however apparently they justify a label because not everyone agrees. Just like, I'd say, veganism is an obvious and decent choice for all but not everyone agrees. Oh well: another label badge then!

Children: decision or gift? [could I regret it?]

Before I begin, let me state this: I don't believe having children is ever 100% our decision. Even if you decided to stop contraception, to "try", or perhaps even to use artificial methods - apart from adopting a child, this new life making it through and coming out alive is a gift which you don't have 100% influence over getting. A common miracle.

This post was sparked by a conversation I had with a friend who's a mum, who mentioned that there are times she regrets the decision to have kids. Every mum I've ever had an honest conversation with about children has said something along those lines - I believe there are moments for every mother when she wishes her kid(s) weren't there. They are moments, in crisis and stress and overtiredness... it's not that she truly wishes them gone or would go back in time to prevent having them, but still, I think every mother is familiar with those feelings and I won't be surprised if I feel that way too at some point.

At that point, I want to remember that I never decided to have children.

When we got married, we didn't know whether we could have any. We only decided to be open to the possibility.

And when I say being open, there's more to it than thinking oh well, we'll make love and see what happens! I do know where babies come from, thanks very much. We truly didn't know whether we could have children; I have been diagnosed with polycystic ovaries and some years ago I had no periods at all for almost three years. [They had been very regular again for a while before my pregnancy though.] My Mr. in the past has been married and they had no children, and had not been trying to prevent having them. So - we were not being naive to think that we may just not have any.

We decided to be open either way. To do nothing about it - we neither consciously "tried", nor did we use prevention. It was the only way I could have peace: if I had to decide whether or not to have children, I would have tied myself up in knots of indecision. And I might have regretted my decision, whichever one it would have been.

Because I didn't decide to have children - we didn't decide to have children - we know that we have been given a gift.

You can regret a decision, but you cannot regret a gift. You can get a gift you don't like very much (think socks from gran at Christmas!) but you still take it and smile and thank the giver. Because they gave it with love.

I'm not saying having kids is like getting socks for Christmas, but this gift is given with love and though I may at times not like it very much, I can't regret it because I didn't decide to get it. It was given by someone who knows exactly what this couple needs, and what this child needs, and who has nothing but blessing as his agenda. A blessing that's hard work at times, I have no doubt, but it wasn't my decision to make and I trust the one whose decision it was to give the gift.