My Postpartum Body

I often read articles about women hating their postpartum bodies – and others about women loving them – but I love this guest post from Caity because it's about having a goal while still embracing what you have (and what you've done).

I often read articles about women hating their postpartum bodies – and others about women loving them – but I love this guest post from Caity because it’s about having a goal while still embracing what you have (and what you’ve done).

My sweet little second-born is 4 months old, and you guys sometimes I just feel like a whale. This baby weight is wearing out its welcome. I technically only have 12 pounds left to lose, but it’s those last few pounds that get ya! Those last few pounds that say, “You are too skinny for your fat pants but too fat for your skinny pants! And you’re too fat to buy new clothes because you will likely not wear them for long! Or maybe you would, which would be even worse! Muwahahahaha!!!!”

I remember being so much further in my weight-loss journey the last time around.

But ya’ll. The thing is, that with my first baby, it was easy to control what I ate. I didn’t have a toddler who wouldn’t finish her gosh dang eggo waffles in the morning (oh well more for me!) or who needed someone to split that box of mac and cheese with for lunch. I could just eat as little as I wanted {or rather, as selectively as I wanted} with little to no temptation, because leftover food wasn’t just lying around, taunting me, begging to get eaten (“I would hate for this to go to waste….”).




With my first baby, I could just plop her in a stroller and walk for literally (ok not literally) a bazillion miles to get my exercise, because I didn’t have a toddler saying “Mom this is boring! I’m done with our walk. Can I go play on the slide now?!”

With my first baby, I could do a really long, intense workout video and even shower after, with no interruptions while she took one of those long, deep, newborn naps.

With my first baby, it was just really easy to lose the weight.

Granted, with this heavy little chunk of a baby, I lost 30 pounds within 2 weeks of his birth. So there’s that. But losing the rest feels like its taking for-ev-er. But it’s given me some nice perspective. It’s teaching me things.

It’s teaching me patience. I know you’ve heard this from like a million old people, but we really do live in a world full of instant gratification. And that idea is even more attractive when it comes to losing weight. But all this time it’s taking is giving me a chance to embrace my body. This wonderful, magical body that created a HUMAN BEING and ushered it into the WORLD by sheer grit and WOMANPOWER. I mean. This body of mine. It’s pretty great. Sometimes I walk by the mirror (and my room has mirror closet doors. too many mirrors) and just think “uggghhhhhhh” and sometimes I walk by it and stop and look at that little pooch and think “Body, you are a wonder. You are amazing. Good for you. Take your time, no rush.” and I almost mourn the fact that eventually, that slouchy pooch will be much smaller and less of a reminder of the things this body has done.

It’s teaching me persistence. Some days I resist my toddler’s leftovers. Or those cookies my friend made for me. Or the oreos in the pantry. Or THE MACARONI AND CHEESE, AMIRIGHT!? Some days I don’t. But I don’t despair. I pick right back up and start at square one the next day. I’m learning that it’s ok to make mistakes. It’s not the end of the world and I can always be better the next day. I can keep going.




 

It’s teaching me acceptance. One day, I’ll be back in my skinny jeans. But the stretch marks will remain, my belly button will always be a little worse for the wear, and my tummy will never lay as flat as it once did. And that’s ok with me now. I’m done having kids, but I will always have those little tokens to remind me of what I’ve accomplished. What I’m capable of. What I would sacrifice for my kiddos and how strong it’s made me. I’m accepting that imperfection is my new perfection, and that’s ok.

This whole period after having a baby is unique and magical and bizarre and sweet all at the same time. I feel like coming to appreciate ourselves during the journey back to normalcy really is essential to our happiness. Who has the energy to be critical of themselves every step of the way? Certainly not me. As a favorite human of mine says: “Sometimes in life we become so focused on the finish line that we fail to find joy in the journey….Doesn’t it seem foolish to spoil sweet and joyful experiences because we are constantly anticipating the moment when they will end?” I’m doing my best to not wish these days away in exchange for skinnier ones. There’s time for washboard abs later. Right now, my little babes can appreciate my soft, smushiness. And I can too.

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