Postpartum Body

So I gained 50lbs during my pregnancy. Yes you read that right. My 5' and 105lbs body gained 50lbs in 40 weeks. Some doctors might have warned me to avoid gaining so much weight but my midwife never worried. She knew I was keeping a healthy diet, I was active at work and practicing yoga at home. She also knew I was married to a Viking and thus was baking a Viking-sized baby. There wasn't anything to worry about, she and I believe that (in most cases) the woman's body will be able to birth the baby it makes, no matter how big he may be. And so, my belly stretched to ridiculous proportions, but all that weight stayed focused in my mid-section. And when my son made his entrance into this world, he left behind his big, comfy home.

It took me by surprise how deeply I grieved the loss of my body. Pre-pregnancy I spent way too much time criticizing the minor imperfections, when I should have been living it up! Wearing a bikini at every possible opportunity. At times I think I may have even resented my baby for "ruining" me, as I write this now I realize how terrible it sounds, but it was my truth at that time. A dear friend comforted me, reminding me that most women fluctuate in their size, and with each new size they have to learn to love their new body. This was something that I had never had to do, and I was not doing it well.

When my son left my body he left behind all that stretched out skin used to protect his home inside me. There is nothing I can do about that skin, short of surgery. I am already back to my pre-pregnancy size, in fact I am even smaller, but on my stomach there still remains a flab of empty skin (not to mention the plethora of scars). It has been a SLOOOOOOOW process learning to accept this new skin, but believe it or not, I am much more comfortable in my body now than I ever was pre-pregnancy. Pre-pregnancy, I wasted time scrutinizing the imagined imperfections in my body, trying to meet some ridiculous and unrealistic standard meant to objectify me. Post-pregnancy I have learned to see the body in a more functional way and I marvel at its beauty.

The body is truly one of God's greatest masterpieces, and all the variety and designs we are blessed to manifest that handiwork. My pear-shaped body with its strong legs and short height are delicately designed to carry the weight of my son as he climbs up in my arms. Beauty. My small breasts are bountiful enough to nourish my growing toddler. Beauty. My small hands fit perfectly into my husband's large and protective hands. Beauty. My eyes can look up to the moon as my arms cradle my son and my legs spin us under its moonlight. Glory. We are all wonders. And our bodies reflect just a sliver of the beauty we manifest through these vessels.

This body, my body, is beautiful. I understand it better now that it has been "ruined" by love and light. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find my mom-jeans, because those are seriously comfortable, and I finally get it!

PS: This video was a huge help to me on this journey. I hope it blesses you as it did me.

Bulging and Beautiful???

So I was talking with a friend recently about how much like a heifer I feel. She had great insight to share. There is this window of pregnancy when you just look so cute! You are that really cute pregnant lady and people can't get enough of how cute you look. Before that time is the awkward transition time when you know you are pregnant (hello?!?!? I never had a pooch like this before! It is so obvious that I am pregnant!) but no one else is brave enough to ask you. This is probably for the best. Because I would hate to be that woman who was asked if she was and she wasn't! 

Then you enter the blessed window of beautiful bulging belly. You are the cutest preggo lady! Everything you wear is super cute! You are glowing, you feel great, the baby is moving. Life is great!

But that is just a period. A good long period, but a period nonetheless. And as you get closer and closer to that much anticipated due date you leave that wonderful period and enter the world of cows. Yup! Bovine. That is what you begin to feel like. When getting in and out of cars is a struggle. When bending down to pick something you dropped is a chore. When you can NOT find anything to wear that is both comfortable and cute. So you have to make a choice: comfort or fashion. And if your midwife tells you that your baby is breach and it is better to not wear maternity pants to encourage him/her to flip then all that is left to you are dresses that used to look cute on you, but now just look like muumuus on you. And that is where I am right now. And I feel ugly.

I hate to complain. I mean, I tried for a long time to get pregnant, doubting my bodies ability to even be able to conceive. What right do I have to complain? I should be rejoicing at the wonderful miracle that my body is doing something I doubted it was even capable of. But I am still a woman. Still trained to judge myself by exterior beauty, even by my hippie, care-free standard of beauty. There it is- I am a product of this society that places way more value on outward appearance than inner strength.

So what is a girl to do? I don't know. I've never been here before. And not many have shared this experience with me, so I am wondering if I am just bigger than most women get when pregnant? I mean, I am a small frame, and my belly is something to marvel at. I suspect people are wondering at the physics of how it is I am able to actually stand with this ginormous belly! Still something must be done. Because I need to remind myself that I am beautiful. That what is happening in my body is beautiful and marvelous because I do not want to spend the last few weeks of this pregnancy bitter, but rather I want to relish in it, because who knows if I will ever be here again.

And so I found myself putting on eye liner these last two days. And making myself get dressed in the nicest outfit I can put together, even though I am on maternity leave and rarely leave the house. But I do this because when I walk into the bedroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, it makes me feel better. And better is much preferred over bitter.

And one last thing that I have done, I asked my partner in crime to take pictures of me so that I can remember this time. This amazing and special time.

I know that this is no Demi Moore or Brittany Spears level of beauty.

But it ain't no cow either. 

It is a miracle. A beautiful miracle. 

I am a beautiful miracle.