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After childbirth, the fight with the hatchlings sometimes seems completely impossible. The history of our readers proves that there is no hope.

The baby can come
Our relationship got off to a good start, but low Urbian love he became one. And then weekdays came, I did less sports, but I cooked more. This resulted in an extra 5 kilos by the end of the year. It did bother me a bit, but I was lazy move. My trousers are still on, and as we know, an 8-inch high heel means 5 kilos of optical tuning. So I regretted it. In the spring, we were there already vхlegйnyemmelthat the kid can come. I became pregnant soon, I can say earlier than planned. Unfortunately, however, it turned out to be the wrong place for the baby, the pregnancy all right. I went to hospital in shock, life-threatening condition. Those who have suffered have been mentally and physically deprived. And let me still forget about sports for weeks, even in a reduced fashion, but I was sad to see chocolate and a stiti. For the summer I kept an extra 10 kilos and forgot my old pants. But Iin weight was somehow not on the agenda at the time. I just focused on that egйszsйges flies, and be rewarded again. Even so, in November the test became positive again, and then one day the familiar pain came. Diagnosis: again with extra pregnancy, this time on the other side. Now I was physically less comfortable with the problem, because I noticed the problem in time, but it was very psychologically broken.Now loading
Power up, more trouble
Then, a fantastic holiday has come, which we have come home to discuss, that we will try one last time, and if we fail, we will never say more, but we will miss the years. I was in vain then thirty years old, and I had already let go of my fears for my age. And then, on the first day of November, the seventh planting stopped. Two weeks later I was sobbing a pozitнv test in my hand.
Race against time
August 2010
Unfortunately, my pregnancy rйmes volt. A blood was formed that grew, threatening the baby. It was a race against time to see who grew better, my little boy or the fuck that could break him. I was very seriously threatened by pregnancy, the first fourteen weeks of pregnancy lying in a garden I spent some time lying down at home afterwards. This resulted in a degree of confidence that I had not counted on. I was 67 kilos when I was pushing for the positive test, and 100 when my son was born. When we got home and had enough weight to put myself on the balance, I thought I was 94 (!) Kilos. Many people say that during lactation the rabbits melt, but not. Three months later I was 98. I was paying attention while breastfeeding, but I often played overtime. I struggled, I could only breastfeed my baby until about a month old. After came a diet and sports. By the age of eleven, I was able to get rid of 10 kilos. But I've always hated the mirror, my clothes, moving out, being with people. I'd love to hang out with the kid and always stay that way. He was eleven months old when he was hit by the first illness, with the upper of the air breathing in all sorts of inflammation. I was so worn out that I saw my son suffering that I practically barely ate. In a week I caught 4 kilos. And then I came to realize that my time has just come! I felt, I knew, that was the point when I was getting rid of all the hormones I had taken, cleared up. And the miracle came.
the Infinite Discussion :)
Great topic
Sorry that I cannot take part in the discussion right now - there is no free time. But I will return - I will definitely write what I think on this issue.
Excuse for that I interfere... At me a similar situation. I invite to discussion.