So how does one start a blog? I suppose I should just jump in...

I'm 27 years old, and I live in Ohio with my longtime boyfriend and our adorable three-year-old son. I am a licensed massage therapist, but my physical condition makes it near impossible for me to practice anymore, so mostly I am a mommy. My boyfriend is back and forth between driving a van for Amish construction crews and taking care of his grandfather, who was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Our son is adorable, very friendly and smart.

My journey up to this point in my life has been long and fairly painful, both physically and emotionally. I have always been overweight, so far as I can remember. I can very clearly recall being called an elephant in the third grade by another boy at school. My mom taught me to medicate myself with food, albeit unknowingly. My grandmother would go on and on about how I should lose weight, then offer me a plate of cookies. I remember tiptoeing into the kitchen late at night, being very careful not to wake my family, and sneaking food back to my room to eat. I can't remember if I was actually hungry, but the food filled some longing that I had within me, so I ate.

The next period in my life was very difficult, full of lots of emotional trauma that is better saved for some other time. In any case, it all served to encourage me to pack on the pounds. I had done many different diet and exercise plans over the years, oftentimes losing quite a bit of weight only to have it creep back on. Fast forward to 2007, when I began school for massage therapy. I had finally found my calling, and was on my way to getting paid to do it. I lost weight fairly quickly then, being so much more active because of the massages and hauling around my portable massage table. Everyone was commenting on how good I looked, and I was sooooo happy.

In February 2008, almost exactly halfway through my schooling, I found out I was pregnant. It was almost a shock, because my boyfriend and I had been taking precautions. I immediately quit smoking and found a good OB doctor. The pregnancy was borderline high-risk because of my weight (I was obese then) and the low levels of amniotic fluid around my baby. Then, in August, I fell while I was at school. I had been going to extra classes, creating my own "maternity leave" because I knew my due date was right around graduation. It was fairly early in the morning, and I was walking through the hallway to get a drink. The school had recently stripped and waxed the floors, and the mats and rugs were still piled up along the wall. I stepped on the edge of a mat and my feet came out from under me, and I sat down HARD. Two maintenance guys, who had been standing down the hall the whole time, stood there and watched me as I tested myself to see what hurt. After what seemed like forever, a lady in the main office stuck her head out the window, saw me sitting on the floor, and asked me if I was ok. The only thing I could get out of my mouth was "I'm pregnant!"

Within minutes, the ambulance was there. They took me to the hospital, where they strapped me in to a fetal monitor and told me that I had to wait until their OB doc showed up and cleared me. Shortly after, a representative from the school came by to apologize and smooth things over. Long story short, I sat in the bed for 7 hours waiting to be checked out, and the OB never showed up. Finally they told me that everything looked fine, so I could go home. When I got up from the bed I could hardly walk. The school rep took me back to the school building and I headed home.

In October 2008, I had my sweet baby boy. He was happy and healthy, with a full head of dark hair. I had a c-section, and was in a lot of pain afterwards, but I pressed on and graduated from school with an A average.

Unfortunately for me, the pain never really went away. It would get better or worse depending on the day, but not ever actually go away. I would wake up in the morning feeling like I had steel rods fused to my spine, and I wouldn't be able to bend over for up to two hours after I got up. The pain would keep me up at night and wake me up in the morning. My primary care doc didn't seem to think it was anything, so I just tried to push through it. In 2009, we bought a house with a room in it for my home massage office, and I was overjoyed. I started getting clients and was doing fairly well. I had almost lost the 70 pounds that I had put on during my pregnancy. But instead of getting easier, each massage was more and more painful for me. I bought a TENS unit, and I would place the pads on my back before I would do the massage; then immediately after my client left, I would hook it up to the unit and turn it on so I could get some relief.

In December 2010, I started having problems with my gallbladder. I had surgery scheduled to remove it in January, and referred my clients to other therapists in the area so I could have some time to recover. It was about a week before the surgery that another healthcare professional told me that she thought I might have fibromyalgia. Unfortunately, she turned out to be right. My surgery went smoothly, but the recovery took about two months instead of two weeks. At that point I was referred to a rheumatologist.

Thus began the downward weight spiral. I hurt badly, so I wasn't as active as I had been before. I also tended to use food to comfort myself, since none of my doctors at that point were doing anything for my pain. Add to that several different medications that can cause weight gain and fluid retention, and an MRI that revealed 3 herniated discs, and you end up where I am today.

I have been doing pool exercise, which is the most I can do at this point, and had even done several months of Medifast, and I have still managed to gain weight. My rheumatologist was the one who suggested the lap-band, saying that she thought it would definitely help my back if I could get some weight off, plus it might even help my fibromyalgia symptoms. I am praying that she is right.

I was shocked to see the scale say that I weigh almost 400 pounds. FOUR. HUNDRED. POUNDS. How could that be? I know I have to do something to get my weight down. Not only am I physically miserable, but the emotional effects of chronic pain and supermorbid obesity can really get a girl down. I have been struggling with depression all my life also, and feeling like a disgusting excuse for a woman doesn't help the situation. Medication has helped lift it somewhat, but I just plain need to lose the weight. If I don't, I will follow in my dad's footsteps. He was nearly 800 pounds when he died of heart failure at the age of 52. He had already had 3 heart attacks, bad cellulitis in both of his legs, and he walked with a cane if he walked at all. I don't want to do that to my family. I want to live to see my son grow up. I want to meet my grandchildren. I have so much to live for, and I feel like this is the step that will help me extend my life and improve my health. I have my informational seminar with my surgeon in January. In the meantime, I am doing all the research I can to try and prepare for the journey that lies ahead. I know it won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

So here's to the journey.