It’s amaz­ing how quickly twenty extra pounds can become the new nor­mal. I’ve been for­tu­nate and frus­trated that my weight has been con­stant ever since high school. A few pounds on here, a few pounds off there, but basi­cally the same. Mar­riage added five pounds, for which I blame my hus­band com­pletely, but oth­er­wise, it stays the same.

Preg­nancy, how­ever, changed all that. When we lost our twin boys 19 weeks into the preg­nancy I had already gained twenty pounds. (God only knows how much I would have weighed if we had been able to carry them to full term.) Hav­ing never been preg­nant before, I fig­ured that once I had given birth the weight would dis­ap­pear. That only seemed fair. No babies, no baby weight. Any­thing else would go against my inher­ent belief in the karmic jus­tice of the uni­verse.

The uni­verse failed me.

After the boys were born I had only lost five pounds. And, five months later, I’ve only lost a few more.

You would think that the death of twin boys and our grief sur­round­ing that loss would be all-consuming. What is a few extra pounds in the face of such a loss? But, if I’m hon­est, on a day to day basis, it is the extra weight that both­ers me the most. Maybe it is that the death of babies is too big to grasp most days, too big to carry around when the rest of life goes on. Or maybe it is sim­ply that extra weight is the only thing that is tan­gi­bly dif­fer­ent in my life now that we are no longer preg­nant. What­ever the rea­son, the weight both­ers me.

I told my spir­i­tual advi­sor about it one day. It’s so frus­trat­ing I com­plained. And I’m so frus­trated that this is the aspect of our loss that frus­trates me the most. Sounds nor­mal she said. Sounds like you are car­ry­ing the weight of this loss with you in more ways than one. Oh I thought.

Oh.

I had never thought about it like that. Maybe, she con­tin­ued, maybe some­day when you are ready, you will be com­fort­able with the weight of all of this, which isn’t to say that you can’t lose it when the time is right, but maybe accept­ing it is the first step. Oh I thought.

Oh.

That was three months ago and the weight still lingers. I still find it frus­trat­ing and aggra­vat­ing. I still think the uni­verse is karmi­cally unjust. I still strug­gle with it. But I’m learn­ing. I’m learn­ing to be more gen­tle with myself and my body. I’m learn­ing to treat myself like a small child instead of a way­ward sol­dier. Rather than using my inte­rior voice to yell at myself, to chas­tise myself when I eat what I shouldn’t or fail to work out, I’m work­ing on pre­tend­ing my inner voice is a kinder­garten teacher speak­ing to a sad and upset five year old. I’m learn­ing to give myself sec­ond, and third, and fourth, and hun­dredth chances. I’m learn­ing to start over each day, to begin again. And, it’s get­ting a lit­tle eas­ier. And, the weight is com­ing off (slowly, oh so slowly). Most weeks it feels like tak­ing two steps for­ward and three steps back­ward. But I’m learn­ing. I’m learn­ing to carry this weight for as long as it is with me.