The alarm sounded at 5:30 on the morning of January 13th, 2009. My husband leaned over to silence the buzzer, and then he turned and kissed my cheek. “Wake up, Honey. Today’s your big day.” No need to wake me up. I’d been lying wide awake since 4:00, and had only slept fitfully throughout the night in anticipation of this day. Sleep? Who can sleep on the night before surgery? And this wasn’t just any surgery. This was Lap Band surgery! This day, I would “cross over to the other side”—a term I had learned from lurking on weight loss forums. Sleep was the very last thing on my mind! Instead, a variety of surgery scenarios floated through my head: how much would it hurt? How long would the pain last? Would it be successful? These and other questions helped cause my lack of sleep, but dispersed in between the thoughts of how my surgery would play out were floods of memories. My mind forced me to relive snippets of the last fifteen years. Memories bounded back to me in random snapshots, with no respect for chronological sequence—just bits and pieces of events in my life that I could identify as times when I experienced the significant weight gains and losses that put me in a position today where I was facing bariatric surgery.

I was married in the summer of 1993, and worked fulltime as a middle school English and reading teacher. I routinely beat myself up about being about 30 pounds overweight, but I was no where morbidly obese. By April of 1994, I was pregnant with our first child. This is when the first big weight piled on. I was sick with bad headaches every day of my pregnancy and developed pre-eclampsia. I gained 100 pounds by the time my son was born, and had a horrific birth, which resulted in an emergency cesarean to save both of our lives. Juggling the responsibilities of a fulltime work, and handling a tough pregnancy, and now a sickly child, who never slept through the night until way past his fourth birthday took its toll on me. However, with lots of determination and hard work, I took off 118 pounds within about 2 years.

Our son was always ill, hardly ate, and was not meeting his developmental milestones. He was clingy and lived with permanent dark circles around his gaunt, sunken eyes. At 18 months, he had surgery to repair bilateral hernias. While in surgery, the anesthesiologist noticed that our son had a suspicious heart murmur. Subsequent visits to a pediatric cardiologist confirmed that he had a heart defect that would need to be repaired if he could ever gain enough weight to endure heart surgery. When he turned three and still could not speak intelligibly, we had him assessed by the school district and a pediatric neurologist. The word, “autism” was thrown around by the professionals, but we did not get a definitive diagnosis until he was at least five years old. The strain of caring for our child wore me down. I was permanently sleep-deprived, and constantly worried about his health. Additionally, I had decided to go back to school to work on a master’s degree, plus I continued to work fulltime. The weight began to creep back on. Looking back, I realize now that I was probably clinically depressed. No one ever suggested that I seek therapy, and I was too overwhelmed at the time to realize that I could probably use it. I was putting the needs of my child and my job first, leaving no time or energy to take care of me; hence, I continued to gain weight.

I completed all of my course work for my master’s degree in the spring of 1999. I discovered I was pregnant with our second child in October of the same year; on December 15th, I turned in my thesis, thus completing all of my requirements to receive my diploma. And that same night, my husband, son, and I boarded a plane for two gloriously, tranquil weeks with my family in Barbados. I spent my time relaxing on the beach every day, and reading all four of Maya Angelou’s autobiographies. Each book was better than the last. Angelou impressed me with her indomitable strength and spirit to overcome all kinds of adversity. I thought I would like to have her strength; she was an example to me of the kind of woman I would want to be. Before long, I learned that I would have to summon some of Angelou’s strength to get me through the next challenge.