We returned from our trip to Barbados in early January. Messages on our home answering machine from our son’s geneticist asked us to return her urgent calls. Our son had undergone a plethora of genetic testing before we’d left for our trip, and an abnormal 11th chromosome was identified in his genetic material. I was now 13 weeks pregnant with my second child, and had to see a prenatal geneticist immediately to get my unborn child tested. Doctors were suggesting that I consider terminating my pregnancy. I didn’t think I could cope with the stress anymore. My weight began to soar again. Even though my baby’s genetic testing came back all normal, I stayed on edge for the balance of the pregnancy. I just waited for the next shoe to drop. Pre-eclampsia developed by the fifth month, and I was hospitalized once because it got so bad. My new baby was born on the 4th of July of 2000, and I was again 100 pounds heavier than the day I got pregnant.

This birth was also a nightmare. Isaac was born with bruises all over his body, and wherever the nurse wiped him dry, he broke out in another bruise. A blood test determined that his platelet count was dangerously low and that he would need a transfusion immediately. He was unceremoniously whisked off to NICU, where he stayed for the next few days. More testing of my husband and me showed that I lack a certain protein in my blood—very rare and not routinely tested. My body created antibodies that attacked my unborn child, which almost killed him. I told my doctor I felt depressed—I thought I could use some counseling; she said I had the baby blues, so I never revisited the idea again; I just ate a bag of cookies instead.

One week after my son was born; I re-joined Weight Watchers, for at least the 10th time. Over the years, I continued to join and re-join Weight Watchers more times than I can count. I also tried Nutri System, Jenny Craig, Ediets, and many more diets. I’d lose a little; gain it all back and more. And thus the cycle continued. When my son turned 6 months old, I noticed odd behaviors. By now, a veteran parent of an autistic child, I was quick to notice the signs, and pushed to get him assessed. Most worst fears were realized: Isaac was also on the autistic spectrum and suffered from a mild seizure disorder as well!

I pushed hard in my career, possibly as a way to escape the grief of having my dreams for my children stripped away from me before they were really even born. In my work, I was now training and coaching teachers for my school district. In the summer, I trained teachers from other school districts for the County Office of Education. Always a learner, I again decided to go back to school and earn an administrative credential. I pressed ahead, working in a highly demanding job, raising two special needs children, and going to school on nights and weekends. Overtime, I developed arthritis in my knees and asthma. I suffered from terrible back pain, and headaches and my hormones had gone awry. A year-and-a-half-ago, when I had to get a breast lump surgically removed, I finally developed hypertension. Not surprisingly, I was permanently exhausted. It doesn’t take rocket science to see where my health was headed because of my weight.

The stress in life my never subsided. Since the birth of my first child, it has been one stressful event followed by another, with never enough time for me to fully process what just happened before the next stressful event occurred. My older boy had his heart defect repaired in 2004, and did exceptionally well; he struggles in school, but demonstrates a work ethic that could stand as an example to many adults I know. Last summer, he became a Bar Mitzvah, and humbled the congregation of more than 200 family and friends with his poise and command of Hebrew and Judaism. My younger son, because of very early interventions, has overcome most of his autistic tendencies and outgrown his seizure disorder. He is currently at the top of his 3rd grade class in all academic subjects, and will be recommended for the Gifted and Talented Education (GATE) program next year. After working for nineteen years to build my career in one local school district, I had to make the hard decision to resign from my position and take a job with a 30 mile commute. My husband and I have fought hard and relentlessly with the schools to get the appropriate special education services in place for our sons; however, we finally reached a point where we had no choice but to hire an attorney. As an aspiring administrator in the same school district that my children attend school, I knew I could not stay on any longer as I was about to sue my employer in order to get my kids the services they need. I have been in my current position with my new school district for 18 months, but the transition and pressure to perform for a new employer has taken a huge serving of what’s left of my inner strength. The stress won’t ever go away, but I have finally decided to make sure that I take care of my needs someway, somehow. Continuing at my pre-op physical condition is no longer an option if I am going to live long enough to see my children grow up.

It took me years to come to the decision to have weight loss surgery—countless diets, punctuated by regaining the little bit of weight I’d lose, plus a few more pounds, added up to my coming to the realization that the small weight loss successes I did realize were fleeting, temporary, and left me feeling like an even bigger failure than before. For me, diets didn’t work. Like the majority of obese people I know, I am not stupid or lazy. I understand about nutrition and exercise. I have succeeded in absolutely everything I have set my mind to in life. Everything that is, except for maintaining a healthy weight.