My pre-birth weight was about 140, and I am 5′ 9″. I am a former athlete that was used to a typical body weight of 160-165, so the loss of almost 20 lbs in muscle mass was a huge loss in dress sizes as well as curves. I was pretty used to be a little on the curvy and muscular side. Losing that much mass (due to being a vegan for nearly 8 months; don’t ask). When I was about 6 or 7 months pregnant, I started asking my midwife’s assistant to stop saying my weight out loud when I got weighed, and would routinely turn the other direction when she took my weight. I felt completely healthy, and I didn’t like that they would occasionally make a comment about how much I had gained. I do estimate that I was about 205 when I gave birth. And trust me; it was ALL baby.
I’d like to say that I was much happier with my body before my son was born, but the truth is that I never really was. I look back on that now and remember what it was like to have a stretchmark-free stomach, and regret not relishing the shape of my body while I still had it.
When I was pregnant with my son, I was completely happy the bigger I got with him. I loved the fullness of being pregnant, and relishing the fact that I was totally without any stretching, until I hit 7 months, when I noticed a little cluster above my pelvic region, and that’s when I, much like many other women, completely panicked. It wasn’t long before I realized that there was now no way to stop the inevitable, and luckily I was able to keep from really paying much mind to them, because they were below my belly button, which was over the proverbial hill, where I couldn’t see them.
It wasn’t until after my son was finally born and my stomach deflated that I saw for the first time all the angry red striations all over my belly. It was in the weeks after my son was born that it really sunk in for me how much my body had changed, and how I was most likely never going to be the same.
I spent a lot of the next months avoiding looking directly at myself in the mirror, or really looking at myself the way I used to, almost like it was someone else I was looking at.
I was positively elated when I fond this site, that, like me, the mothers of the world were stretched and a bit saggy, and all finding ourselves trying to come to terms with how much things are different, and what we’ve had to give up for our children.
Each of the stories I have read have been beautiful and inspiring, which is why I chose to share mine as well. Though it’s nothing specific, and sometimes a thing I don’t have to focus on, just the knowledge that both my overly-bloated stomach (which, I confess; I suck in 70% of the time I’m in public and can’t get away with letting it hang out), and my droopy breasts happened because I had my son, comforts me. My boyfriend, who’s never seen me without my mother’s body, still thinks my body is beautifully shaped, and we enjoy being physical together, I have to admit that I am looking forward to a time in the future (which I hope will be near, and not far!), when I am able to slim down a bit more on the weight I put on during my pregnancy.
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~Number of pregnancies and births: 1 pregnancy, resulted in 1 live birth
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 12 months (as of 1/29/2010)