One reason I haven’t written a lot here is that I’ve been struggling with how to bring this blog full circle. How do I incorporate weight loss and miscarriage? How do they relate? How can I make sense of all this?
This past weekend my husband and I went to Ohio to see his family. We had Thanksgiving/Christmas/birthday’s all rolled into one visit. I enjoy going there to see his family and we try to get there four times a year. This year was special because we were there to see his mom’s friend’s son. I’ll call him Joe.
Joe is a unique individual because he weighs 667 lbs. The reason we went to go see him was because my mother-in-law has been showing pictures of my husband to all of her friends since he has lost over 125lbs since our wedding, which was a year and a half ago. She’s proud of my husband, and rightfully so. I’ve lost 42 lbs since the wedding, but his weight loss has been more dramatic than mine. He looks so different, and since his family only sees him four times a year, he always appears very differently.
My husband’s mom was telling her best friend about my husband and her friend confided in her that her son was 667lbs. He’s home bound, doesn’t work and is on oxygen. Joe’s mom asked my husband’s mom if he wouldn’t mind talking to Joe to see if he could help him. Joe didn’t want to have anything to do with the plan. He didn’t want anyone to see him. But, after seeing my husband’s photos and his dramatic weight loss, he agreed to speak to my husband.
Before getting to his house, we put together a plan for Joe. The plan was basic… He was going to eat a little less and move a little more. We didn’t know what to expect or what we were getting into. Up until the moment we were in his house, I didn’t believe I was going to get to talk to Joe. I was upset that I wasn’t going to get to meet him. I wanted to help. But when were in his house, his mom allowed me to come into the room, and I was surprised that he was ok with me seeing him.
Meeting Joe will probably live in my memory as one of the most pivotal moments of my life. He was genuine, sincere and honest. What struck me the most was how real he was. I would assume, most people would be awe struck from just knowing his weight and that we were talking to someone that could have been on one of those morbidly obese television shows. Most people would have assumed he was gross and that he lived in a disgusting home. That’s how morbidly obese people are portrayed on TV. His home was cleaner than ours. He was just like us.
Originally this blog was going to be a book, and I wrote this several years ago:
“You have a pretty face.” The doctor, who was going to help perform her gastric bypass surgery, told her that while taking an evaluation of her. No diabetes, no high blood pressure, she was in practically perfect health… Except for the fact that she weighted almost 850lbs. Can you image? What he really meant was that you’re pretty under that gluttonous mouth. I watched the show in awe, disgust and hoped that I would never be like her. She was a side show who was shoveled out of her home by many men. Why would anyone want to be like her?
While we were talking to Joe, I was thinking about this woman. “You have a pretty face.” I was thinking about how it applied to Joe. He had a very handsome face. Period. Not if he lost a bunch of weight, but right now. He was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to and it was definitely one of the most real conversations I’ve ever had. I could have been that woman. I could have been Joe. At my heaviest weight, I was 487 pounds. Why didn’t I become home-bound. Why did I find the strength? How? Where?
I was thinking how ironic it was that I, a 380 lb woman was trying to teach this man how to eat. What foods were bad and what foods were good; how to know the difference and how to succeed on this journey that he was about to take. Ironic.
There are many things that I wish I could fix in this world. I wish I could help all the people who can’t have babies who want one. I wish I could give everyone healthy food, a warm bed and a warm shower. I wish I could take away the bad and give more good.
I think about Joe every day and wonder how his journey is going. I think about all those women who can’t have children easily and without complication. I think about myself and how I want to help others and I haven’t even helped myself yet. Or maybe I have… Maybe this is my “help”… Maybe this is my journey. And that doesn’t mean that I can’t bring others along with me. I’m still trying to make it all fit together.