Well, here goes.....my story.
I was born in Minneapolis on Aug. 25, 1967.  Youngest of 6 children.  My parents were from Tennessee, and moved here so my dad could get a job following WWII, as he was not going to stay in the military after seeing what he had seen.  He worked for the railroad and my mom worked in every hospital in Mpls, as either a waitress in the cafeteria's or doing odd jobs.  They had me when my mom was 42, my dad was 51.  I was the only one in my family battling weight from the get go.  I was always a rather chubby child, not overly so, but I guess would be considered more "athletic" in build.  I was a Tom boy and ran and biked all of the time.  We didn't watch much TV.  My parents moved us to a hobby farm near Lonsdale, MN, 50-60 miles south of where they worked in the metro, and that was my home from age 2 until I married at 22.

I didn't start working about my weight until I was 12.  I never ever even considered myself "FAT" until I became more interested in boys, one in particular.  Bobby Appelgren.  This other girl, Tammy Anderson, who was notebly larger than I was, was in persuit of him as well.  Bobby liked me, but was shy.  I didn't really think we'd connect ever, especially after Tammy told me in Home Ec class that Bobby would never like me unless I lost some weight....like 25 pounds or so.  That would make me prettier.  Tammy made out like Bobby told her this about me.  Naive as I was at that age.....it hurt like hell.  25 pounds?  OH MY GOD!  I was like barely 5' and weighed maybe 100 pounds.  I wasn't heavy really at all, but I was solid.
Until that moment, I never thought badly of myself physically.  Until that moment, I never felt insecure about my appearance.  Until that moment, I thought I was a "Catch".  Despite Tammy's efforts, however, Bobby still liked me and we did end up together, for a very short time.  The break-up was horrific, and it seemed to just seal the thoughts of not being thin enough in my head.  I was worried about my weight from that moment on.  Heading into 8th grade feeling worse about myself, even though I was fitting into a size 7 jean.  Not bad considering a 7 back then is the equivilent of a 2 or 3 now.  I also had a sister, my oldest sister, who's daughter was close to my age.  My niece was gorgeous.  Cute, petite, a size NOTHING, and we were always being compared.  They had money, my parents did not.  They had it all, my parents had little.  We were taken care of though, and I was appreciative of everything they did for us.  But having someone constantly remind you that you were not special enough, was difficult.  I began sneaking food when my sister wasn't looking, or having to deal with her "once overs" with her eyes, or the snide comments about "Should you be eating that?  It's fattening you know."  My mom never rode me about my weight until I hit high school.  My junior and senior year, then in college and just before my wedding.  I ballooned from 125 in 9th grade, to 150 through high school, to 160 in college, then 190 when I got married in 1989.  My husband jokingly says.."When you hit 200, then we'll worry."  Well, I hit 200....220, 240, 250, and then 285.  I also heard about it from my mom.  My mom was thin, my sisters, all 3 of them, were thin, my older brother, was not thin, but not as heavy as I was in comparison, and my other older brother was super thin and had a prejudice against fat people.  It was difficult being in this family at this weight.  I could not hide, as I loved my family, but I also wanted to disappear so badly I ached and dreaded family gatherings.  I felt bad about every morsel of food that went into my mouth.  I loved eating alone, because I knew then, no one but me was the judge.  Guilt was my friend.  We were always hand in hand.
In September of 1989, a month after I was married, my monthly cycle was off and I felt like it might be likely that I was pregnant.  No one in my family ever had issues with infertility, and I really doubted I had any either.  I took a pregnancy test, and it was negative.  I still didn't get my period.  This happened once before to me, in March before we were married, and I actually was told by a clinic I was pregnant, only to get my period the next day.  The doctor then said it was a false positive.  Not sure what that meant, but it was one of those "WHEW!" moments, as we had planned our wedding for 2 years and I had sworn to my mother I'd be the only child she had that didn't conceive prior to marriage...smile.  And...I was.  My period still didn't come that September, even after the negative pregnancy test, and then I had a lump in my arm pit.  I felt like it was something I should go to Mayo Clinic for, as I felt it was more serious than just a little in-grown hair.  I was wrong...it was just a little in-grown hair....but they were concerned that I had went nearly 2 months without a period and was not pregnant.  I was sent to the OB/GYN specialist at Mayo Clinic...Dr. Fish.  Yes...Dr. Fish.  And he was....to say the least...an A-HOLE.  He was rude, pretentious, critical, and well....a pig.  I sat in his exam room, naked with only a sheet for cover, he examined me quickly and abruptly, and then took a phone call as I sat on the exam table for nearly 15 minutes as he chatted away.  He finally looks at me and says..."You can get dressed now" and he continued to talk on the phone.  RUDE.  I got dressed as I was seathing with anger and embarassment and then he finally decided his patient was more important than his phone call.  He says.."You have Stein Leventhal Syndrome".  It's because you're OBESE that you have cysts on your ovaries and you won't get pregnant with this.  You need to lose weight.  You need to see a nutritionist and you need to understand that you have to put even the apple down, as it has calories too."  I wasn't sure what he meant by that...but knew he was a jerk nevertheless.  
I was infuriated by this man..and his blatant disdain for me as a woman.  He also chastized me for shaving against the growth in my arm pit.  "Women don't get that the hair grows there for a reason and you all think you need to shave to get it smooth.  That's why you have that in-grown hair and the bump."  OKAY...and then he wanted to place me on birth control pills, and for the fact that I was wanting to get pregnant, I didn't take his advice.  It's a good thing too, as women that did take birth control pills that had Stein Leventhal had a more difficult time with infertility treatments.  Stein Leventhal syndrome is now referred to as PCOS, Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome....and I did a lot of research about it.  I also saw another infertility specialist that told me that Dr. Fish, whom he knew, was inaccurate in his view about PCOS.  It actually is a contributing factor to me being OBESE.  It's why I gained the weight so rapidly and struggled to get it off.  It causes OBESITY in some women, and some women don't have the weight issues, just the irregular cycles, hair loss, and hair overgrowth, acne, and a bunch of other symptoms.  I had irregular cycles, weight gain, hair overgrowth, which is horrible, and I was irritable and depressed.  We tried 8 months with shots of pergonal and intra-uterine inseminations.  No luck.  

On August 25th, 1997, I was standing in Lake Superior and stating to my husband that this was going to be a year of change for me.  I had just turned 30 that day.  We were on a mini-vacation to celebrate my birthday.  I called my mom later that day and told her that I wanted my 30's to be better than my 20's and that I needed to make many changes in my life...weight and health wise...and career wise.  I had the worst time getting and keeping a decent job.  I was educated, but in chemical dependency counseling, and didn't get the 4 year degree...which I regret.  I was working as a secretary, as I had taken some computer classes.  I was so lost in my life.  My weight kept me from feeling very positive about anything.

Well, the year of change brought on a change I hadn't planned on or even imagined.  My mom was diagnosed with lung cancer and in a very short 6 weeks, she went from lung cancer, to brain metastesis, to death.  She died at age 73, March 18th, 1998.  I was devestated.  She was my best friend.  Despite her ornery disposition, my mom loved us kids.  She was, however, one of my worst critics in regards to my weight.  She claimed she was worried about my health, but it was an image thing with my mom.  She was a beautiful woman, as were my thin sisters, and here I was...the one with the weight!  It was difficult to feel love from her when she was making comments.  But I did...despite all of that.  Mainly because I had hit a point where I realized she didn't know any better than to say what was on her mind.  I admired her for it later, especially after she passed away.

This left my dad, and he was turning 80 that year.  He was lonely, and dependent on us kids.  I was managing his check book and some of the payments that needed to be made.  He wasted no time in finding a woman though.  I don't think 2 months passed before he had a female friend.  He was a handsome hard working man for his age.  Still working nearly 40 hours a week at a convenience store to supplement his retirement, and we were also dealing with a lawsuit against the mayo clinic who had not told my mom she had a nodule on her lung a year prior to her diagnosis.  We settled that case in 2000.  I handled most of that as well.  I was my parents caretaker most of their later years.  I always felt obligated.  I also felt like I had no life of my own anyway, so why not.

Thankfully, In the latter part of 1998 I discovered that we had a local chapter of PCOS members and they were having meetings.  I joined and learned of a drug study for a medicine that could help women suffering with PCOS.  PCOS caused insulin resistance, therefore I was super carb sensitive.  I wanted to take part in the trial, but I was too overweight making it too risky for me.  They were also treating women with PCOS with diabetic medications, because of the insulin resistance.  I was given an Rx for Metformin.  The first 6 weeks were horrible.  You ran to the bathroom constantly and you felt like you couldn't go out in public for fear of having to head to the bathroom after eating anything.  I began getting very serious about losing weight while on this medication, so was doing a low-carb diet along with extreme exercise.  I lost 70 pounds!  I was amazed how it seemed to come off so quickly.

I made another major statement in January of 2000.  I was going to make a career change into sales and I became an insurance salesperson.  It lasted about 3 months.  I did get a great trip to Arizona for 2 weeks in our brutal MN winter, but it did bring me to another place I didn't want to be.  More weight gain.  Stress induced, schedule challenges, lack of time for exercise, and I was starting to put on a few pounds.  My motivation to stay low-carb was waining.  In August of 2000, I took a big step and applied for a job with Avon Products, Inc.  This was a district sales manager position for St. Paul.  I wasn't thrilled with the aspect of working in the metro, as I live in a small town, but I wanted a challenge.  I was told to become an Avon rep first.  In doing that, I met the manager of my district, the one in which I reside.  She was horrible and I said to myself.."Wouldn't it be great if I could have this territory.  She was horrible and I'd make a much better manager than her."  Hmm, funny as that statement was, I was called a week later asking for my resume by this manager, as she had resigned and she knew I had applied for the St. Paul job.  I was offered a stand in position by the division manager, and in a month's time, I was hired permanetly for MY district.  It was the best thing that's ever happened to me in a long long time.  It paid great, company vehicle, free products, great representatives to oversee.   I got to recruit, train, and motivate.  I also got to travel.  It was awesome.  I loved that job, and that job, became my life.  It also helped me gain back 40 pounds.  It was a high stress job, but one that made me feel fulfillment like no other.
In March 2002, March 18th in fact, the anniversary of my mom's death, my dad decides at age 83, to have his aeortic valve replaced.  He loved to swim daily, and was still driving, and they told him that if he didn't have this surgery, he'd have to quit both things because he was at risk for dying suddenly...and the warm water he was swimming in brought his blood pressure too low.  He chose to have surgery.  I didn't know why he chose the date he did, and it was seeming very ominous to me.  Sure enough, there were complications and he ended up not recovering as planned.  He had kidney failure, therefore he was placed on dialysis, he had an infection set in, therefore he was kept intubated and on life support basically.  A week passed and they asked if they could go in and fix his other valve as the stress of the infection and the kidney failure caused his mitral valve to blow.  We said "Yes, he would want to fight."  He survived the second surgery and in a week they had him off the respirator, but he was having to be tube fed.  To make a long story short as I can, my dad ended up spending a total of 4 months in the hospital, being moved once to a nursing home for a night, and returning as he had congested heart failure.  His kidney function was nil, therefore he had a port that they used for dialysis.  It became infected with a staph infection, that was resistant to antibiotics.  The staph attacked his new valves and the prognosis was grim. They wanted us to take him home for hospice care, which we did, on July 5th, 2002, and he passed away in the same bedroom my mother did just 4years prior. He was in a great frame of mind though, and talked to both sides, the here, and the over there. He was conversing with my mom, his brother that passed before him, and his parents, as well as many soldiers he had seen killed in WWII. It was quite amazing and when he fell asleep on July 19th, 2002.  My husband was with him, as was one grandson and at 3:30am, I had awakened wondering why I was feeling so ill.  I got up, went to the bathroom, went back to bed, and thought..."Hmm...this is odd." A few hours later my husband calls to tell me Dad fell asleep sometime after 3am and at 5:45am he had passed away.  I said.."He died at 3:30." I just knew that, and to confirm it, 3 of the closest siblings to my dad had the same awakening.  

That life changing event, the 2nd for me really, was just one of many more I guess.  In February 2003, I was told my job was being eliminated due to corporate restructuring at Avon and that I could relocate to Iowa if I wanted, or take a severance package.  I couldn't leave MN and chose the severance package.  I loved that job, but knew the security of the job in Iowa wasn't there.  Plus my husband's job was secure.  I had a lovely summer off and yet I panicked about finding another job.

In October of 2003 our family lost a wonderful young man, my nephew Jeremy.  My closest sister, Janet's middle son.  Jeremy was so handsome and only 23.  He was into acting and modeling and was working himself to death for a cement company.  He fell asleep driving one night and rolled the car.  It was a tragic death.  It nearly destroyed my sister.  Just 2 months after that, December 2003, John and I were blessed with an unexpected miraculous pregnancy!

I never thought I could conceive.  My PCOS always kept me from it.  I think I weighed in at 273 at this point.  Too heavy to be safely pregnant, but it seemed to go off without a hitch, until my 3rd triemester that is.  Then my blood pressure started to skyrocket.  I was gaining very little and eating well.  I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and was taking one shot of insulin at night.  I started having issues in May and was hospitalized to get the steroid shots to mature Holden's lungs.  He got his name that week.  I had a dream and in my dream my parents were telling me to not name him this.....or that.....and my mom smiling says...."Call him Holden, HOLD ON HOLDEN!"  I was 27 weeks pregnant.  I didn't want to have him this early.  I was sent home, thankfully and two weeks later, I returned on June 5th, at 11pm.  I had blurry vision and hadn't felt any movement.  I was scared to death.

At midnight as they were monitoring me we saw something on TV that said that June 6th 2004 was the 60th anniversary of the Normandy Invasion in WWII.  I said to John..."Wouldn't it be ironic if Holden was born today.  He'd be a D-Day baby.  My dad would have loved that!"  My dad was with the first troups to land in Normandy in WWII.  He also traveled there for the 50th anniversary.  Ironic or not... at 5:40AM they delivered Holden via emergency C-section.  He weighed 2 pounds 15 ounces and was 15 inches long.  I never heard him cry.....and I didn't get to see him until an hour later...and could barely make out his tiny face with the hat they had on him and all the tubes.  He was taken to Children's Hospital then.  I was at Abbott-Northwestern, about a 4 block walk, but there were tunnels to get there.

I didn't get to see Holden again until they brought him up on the monitor through a thing called babylink that evening.  He was so dark and so still.  I was so scared.  I just ached for him.  I cried and cried.  

The next day, Monday, I was able to go see him and touch him.  I wasn't able to hold him yet though.  I just stood there and cried.  He looked so fragile and weak.  The nurses told me otherwise.  They said they had to sedate him to keep him from squirming and pulling his tubes out.  I weighed in that day too, at a whopping 306!  The heaviest I had ever been in my life, or so I thought.  Anyway, by Wednesday he was off the ventilator and by the time I had to leave, Thursday, I was a mess.

I couldn't imagine leaving my child there.  I sobbed and sobbed for the entire day and evening.  I didn't sleep until 3 am and then the next morning we high tailed it to the hospital, 70 miles from our home.  We did this every day for 5 weeks, then we had him transferred closer by 20 miles, to a step down nursery for the next 5 weeks.  I lost 45 pounds during that time.  I weighed 261.  It was very short lived.  Holden came home on our 15th wedding anniversary, August 12th, 2004.  I started gaining immediately.  

We were told to not go anywhere with him to keep him from getting sick.  We ate take out and or convenience foods.  Nothing great for us, that's for sure.  Plus, I was so exhausted, I couldn't exercise.  I couldn't function at all.  I gained and gained.

In June of 2006 I weighed myself and weighed the MOST I'VE EVER WEIGHED, 318!  I went on a low-carb diet for like... 2 days....and was back down to 306.  Then... I got to 310 and stayed.  I fluctuated between 304-310 constantly.

In December 2006 I finally decided enough was enough with this weight.  I hated that I couldn't ride a bike anymore....or do things with my son, or even enjoy anything with anyone because my weight kept me so self-conscious.  I checked into several clinics and chose one.  I ended up switching clinics in July 2007 though, as the first one was not very supportive and I didn't like how I was treated there.  I had completed everything to get insurance approval and then transferred to the University of MN and Dr. Todd Kellogg.  Things went rather fast from that point and my surgery was scheduled for October 17th, 2007.  And.......so ends the story of how I got here....and now the story changes in where I'm going.  I had the surgery... great results as far as recovery... but am dealing with some issues such as head hunger and upset stomach here and there.  I have an incision that's minorly infected...no big deal....but my struggle now is getting enough to drink and enough protein.  More manageable to me than what I was dealing with before though.  It's not easy though.... it never will be.  It's not the easy way out....as some people ignorantly think.  In fact...it's harder.  At least when you're on a diet.... you can cheat.  My body will reject anything or cause me difficulty if I do that.  I am going to continue my story via blogs now....so please enjoy and read on as I travel through this glorious journey!

Hugs
Cheryl