Thinking back to before I was pregnant, I’ve always been unhappy with the way I look. I’ve never been slim or pretty and I was always the ‘bigger’ one out of my friends at school. I’ve always strived for a different me. I’d like slimmer legs and that all-important thigh gap, a flatter, less saggy tummy, my big bum can stay put but perhaps a little firmer, bigger boobs, longer hair and a less chubby, more symmetrical face would also be ideal. Basically if I could pull and tuck my real-life body the way I do playing Sims, then that would be perfect.
Being a mother has changed my body dramatically. I sag, I’m marked and torn. I’m more tired and emotional. I remember laying in the hospital bed having just had Archie and looking down at my flabby body and how it jiggled whenever I moved. I clung to the hope that breastfeeding would whip me back into shape and I’d start to feel more confident about my new body.
I didn’t anticipate not being able to breastfeed. How was I supposed to even entertain the idea that my baby would be taken into special care and need to be partly bottle fed in those early stages of his life? Quickly my hope of losing the weight quickly went and I was left feeling useless with this hideous body I’d now been given.
Slowly but surely I’m beginning to realise that I’m not all bad. This body carried my baby until the point my arms were ready to take over. I kept my baby healthy and happy for a whole nine months. I created life. I grew life and I gave birth to life. And for that I’m eternally grateful to my own body for doing so.
Instead of seeing the negatives of my sagging tummy, I’m remembering watching it swell as life grew inside it. How amazing it was watching my bump grow each day and how much I loved having a big bump.
There is nothing more amazing than knowing this body, despite all of its flaws brought me the greatest gift of all. And no matter how much I hate it, I can only love it for that reason.
I know that in order to love my body more I need to make some changes. I need to be fitter and healthier and then I know I’ll be less critical of my new body. The body my baby has given me. I am beginning to realise that my son doesn’t care what I look like because to him, I’m superwoman.
He doesn’t care about the muffin top or the lack of a thigh gap. He loves me regardless. And although I may never be a Victoria’s Secret model, I’ll always be loved by my son, so really what else matters?
Check out my fitness journey here…