My Postpartum Body
I had a baby 6 weeks ago. She was 7 lbs 7 ounces of pure perfection. She has gorgeous eyes, tiny but long fingers, and the cutest little feet. She is simply beautiful. A miracle. Created in my body for 9 months.
During this, my third full term pregnancy, my body changed dramatically. I only gained 15 pounds but I stretched and grew in places I didn’t know possible. My hips widened further, my stomach appears to be stuffed with jello, and my breasts are larger than my newborn’s head. The weight has come off quickly but the changes to my shape are likely permanent. Things sag, there are stretch marks cross crossing my love handles, and there’s just a little more of me to love. I love myself and my body, even if some days I don’t really like it.
And that is okay.
My body allowed me to bring three amazing miracles into this world. It has nourished them all for many years. I have pumped and donated countless ounces of milk to various women to feed their babies. I have nursed through a NICU stay. I have nursed through illness, sadness, injuries, and worry. I have nursed to calm during big changes, I have nursed because situations were overwhelming and I am their comfort, and I have nursed simply because I had a hungry baby. I never take any of this for granted, I am so lucky and blessed that my body operates like this and allows me to feed my babies in this manner. How could I hate a body capable of this?
My body allows me to hug my children. One embrace can ease the sting of rejection, calm an anxious child, or cure an ouchie. I give countless hugs each day, all meaningful and needed. My size doesn’t hinder me in any way. My body is perfect and was made for this task. Wrapping my arms around my children is one of the most natural things I’ve ever done.
My body carries me throughout my day. From the minute my feet hit the floor until the second my head hits the pillow my body allows me to accomplish so many things. I make my big kids meals, healthy meals (for the most part) made with love and good food. I help them brush their teeth, wipe their butts, and dress them. I play games with them. Hours of making up situations and stories with their extremely vivid imaginations. I keep my home clean, run errands, and keep up with other adult responsibilities. I cook dinner for my husband who comes home exhausted after 14 hour days. My size doesn’t change any of this. My body is simply the vessel that allows me to live the life I want to live.
My body allows me to dance, sing, run, and love. My shape and size doesn’t change any of this. I’m not perfect, I have bad days where I wish I weighed 50 lbs less or wish my arms weren’t so big, but that’s life. I move on and go to the next activity. My body is a miracle. It has produced miracles. It has sustained miracles. It has comforted miracles. My post partum body may be saggy and stretched out, but my heart is full and my face is smiling. As I watch my babies grow, run, laugh, I am even more in awe of what my body has allowed me to do. My post partum body is perfectly me, and that makes it good enough.
