I am 40 years old. I have two children, 12 and 15 years old.
This is my body, these are my breast. As you can see, they are big, they have strecht marks, they are different between them, one is longer than the other. Sometimes I think about having a surgery to make them smaller, sometimes I love them huge.
Almost 32 years old
Children: almost 13, 9,7
My weight has fluctuated over the years but I’ve always been slim. I am proud of what my body has done. And I believe all women can love their bodies after pregnancy. Hard work and a good attitude mixed with the right support system are very important. I am happy with how I look!
I am 34 years old and gave birth to my first child in June of this year. Before falling pregnant I had always suffered from poor body image at times although I had got really fit and was running and weight lifting. I guess I was as happy with my body at that stage, more than I had ever been before. Having lost an incredible amount of weight in my twenties (I went down from 301 pounds to 140 pounds) I had battled my demons but paid the price with saggy tummy skin and looser skin elsewhere. I learned to live with the excess skin, something that I would have to pay privately for to be removed and something I could not afford to do. To exacerbate the issue I suffer from a condition called hyper mobility which can have an effect on the elastin in the skin, making it more prone to scarring and stretching.
Anyhow I fell pregnant and realised that my tummy skin was going to take a serious hit, after all that weight I had lost. The pregnancy went well and I gave birth. I am now 12 weeks post partum and am glad to see the stretch marks are no different to the ones I had post weight loss, I might have the odd extra few here and there but I am currently 200 pounds so significantly more than the 150 I started at pre pregnancy. So I have a battle with not only losing weight but facing that stomach again. I do hate it, it makes me feel deformed and unattractive. I think it has affected me getting into a stable relationship and will continue to so, I don’t feel normal with it and do everything in my power to hide it in intimate situations. I am no longer with the person who fathered my child and I dread the day I may meet someone else as I have to face all my insecurities once again. I am trying to lose weight at the moment and am terrified of how much worse the sagginess will be, it is honestly destroying my confidence. I always looked great with clothes on and my figure was pretty good but I hated how I looked naked :( Who knows how bad it is going to be if I can get down to my pre pregnancy weight. Maybe I should try to approach my doctor again and explain the psychological effect it is having. I could not bring myself to take pictures to accompany this diatribe, I apologise but it ain’t pretty.
I do not share these feelings with anyone, I am embarrassed and ashamed to admit I have a deformation. Isn’t that sad?
Ugh I need to get over it and love me for me but I doubt I will to be honest!
I am Jen and I am 30 years old. I have an 8 year old son and 6 month old twin girls! They are awesome kids and they make me smile every day. Of course having twins is not something that everyone plans. I found out that they were twins when I was only 6 weeks pregnant. Of course I was overjoyed but scared to death also. I have been a genetically thin person my whole life, but a few years back I got into working out and eating healthy and my body changed from being thin to being muscular and strong. I loved it. I was a very active person before my pregnancy. I had great abs and I was scared that I would never see them again. I wanted healthy babies of course, but I didn’t want to gain a bunch of unneeded weight. My doctor told me that it was ok if I continued to workout during my pregnancy not exceeding a lifting amount of 20lbs. I stayed within his rules of course for my babies’ safety. Naturally, before pregnancy, I worked super hard for my body and health and was really scared of the after effects of carrying twins. I had never had twins before and yes everyone had to tell me their after baby body horror stories. I knew right away I was going to deliver via c section. I had a hard birth with the first and a horrible episiotomy. I knew I didn’t want to go through that again and it was safer for the babies. Everyone told me about how I better kiss the bikini body goodbye because c sections cause a lifelong potbelly that cannot be fixed. I am not the type to listen to this stuff because just because it happened to them does NOT mean it will happen to me. I lotioned every single day, up to 8 times a day towards the end. I only carried my twins to 33 weeks. I gained a total of 17 lbs and the babies were very healthy!! They came early due to a membrane rupture. I held them in for 10 days after my water ruptured. They did have a NICU stay but it wasn’t for long. They were just tiring out while eating. I want to tell women that I am just an average Jane. I am nothing special, not a celebrity. I want women to know that you don’t have to be a celebrity to have a bikini body after babies. I want to be an inspiration to eat healthy not only for your benefit but for the baby as well. My c section recovery was very quick. I was super sore for 72 hours. I went back to the gym after 2 and a half weeks. I did not work abs because my doctor told me it wasn’t safe just yet. After my 6 week check up he gave me the ok to go back to abs. It was hard at first but I kept at it and my core strength came back stronger than ever. I’m 5 foot 8 and weigh around 127 now. I did not get any stretch marks with either pregnancy due to tons of water, tons of lotion and good collagen genetics. Before pregnancy I was 135. I feel great being able to run after my 8 year old and catch him! I enjoy being able to run around like a crazy person aka mom of twins, and have lots of energy. I want my children to see me working out and follow in my footsteps on the healthy road the way I did with my dad, who was a competitive power lifter during my childhood. I love living a healthy lifestyle! I couldn’t feel better!!
Number of pregnancies: 2 and 3 births
First photo is 3 weeks pp, 2nd photo is 32 weeks pregnant vs 8 weeks pp and the last photo is 6 months pp!
I recently discovered SOAM and was happy to see a forum for discussing the changes women go through after childbirth. There seem to be a lot of younger women (20s) with beautiful bodies who post on this site, I wanted to share my story and pictures too. I’m 35 and have given birth to three children, with my recent child being born less than 6-months ago. I actually cried when we found it we were having our 3rd because I was finally happy with my body after our 2nd and the 3rd caught us by surprise. Now that we know we’re done having kids, I want to look the best that I can. I was worried about all aspects of my body: stomach, butt, boobs, and the taboo topic area (vagina/labia). I’ve been very self-conscious about my body, even though I’m back to my pre-baby weight of 125lbs. I just wish things were tighter than they are. My husband is very supportive and tells me frequently how good I look and how I turn him on. It’s nice to hear but I still miss my pre-baby body. Our sex life is still good too. I was worried what a 3rd vaginal delivery would do to me, but things still look the same down there and I can still orgasm like before. I’m posting these pictures, in part, to show other women what a women can look like after three pregnancies. My husband also encouraged me to post, telling me that I should be proud of how I look so soon after giving birth to our 3rd. Still nervous to submit but if you’re reading this…..I mustered up enough courage to hit the send button. Thanks.
Age: 35
Pregnancies/births: 3
More intimate photos here.
Hello
I have enjoyed and found support in reading many of these entries for quite some time and finally felt like I should share my story.
I have two beautiful children, a son who is now 5 and a 17 month old baby girl.
With my first pregnancy it was quite a shock. I was 24 and had only been married 4 months. I was on the pill when I got pregnant and was shocked and upset when I found out. I did not feel ready in any way. We were newly married, I was finishing school, we hasn’t even gone on a honeymoon yet! I cried for weeks. Finally I was beginning to accept it when we found out something was wrong-he had a condition called gastrochesis, a rare condition where the abdomen doesn’t close so all his intestines, stomach etc were outside his body. Anyways to make a long story short it was a rough pregnancy and a very rough beginning to life and parenthood. He was in the hospital for months, surgeries etc.
Body wise though, I didn’t gain much weight, did not get stretch marks and bounced back immediately. Due to stress I lost additional weigh and was skinnier then ever.
When I got pregnant with my daughter it was a different experience. We were trying to conceive this time and the pregnancy went smoothly. I gained a ton of weight-got close to 200 pounds at delivery and she was 8.14, a big healthy baby! I got stretch marks on my breasts and a few on my hips. I still have at least 10-15 pounds that won’t come off. I hate my love handles. I love my kids more then anything but it depresses me to look in the mirror and I don’t see my flat toned stomach or perky boobs anymore. Then the other day at work I ran into the seamstress who did alterations on my wedding dress. She said ” wow kids sure wrecked your body. You used to be so skinny!” I cried all night over that comment, I’ve never felt so hurt.
I want to feel sexy and beautiful again, sometimes I still do, but I guess it’s going to take time to accept myself.
-anonymous, aged 31
I’m 37, and my girls are aged 5 and 2.
I was worried with each of my pregnancies that I would find it hard to get back in shape; or that my body would be radically changed. You go through so many changes when you’re pregnant that it’s hard to see how you will ever go back to normal. But, I came out of it ok. I try to exercise whenever I can, even it its just taking the girls for a walk or doing sit ups in front of TV. I used to go to weights class but had such bad pubis symphasis pain that I don’t want to do the heavy squats and lunges anymore; I feel a twinge of the pain in my pelvis whenever I have to out my back into pushing something, like a heavy door or piece of furniture. With my second girl I had a caesarian, I have a small ridge just above my pubic bone but it is nothing too bad. For various medical reasons I will have an elective section if we have a third child, and I wonder what the effect of a second section will do to my tummy.
I used this site when I was pregnant to seek reassurance, and I hope this give some reassurance back to other mums. I’ve included a picture of me the day before I went into labour with my second.
Apart from the pelvic pain, the main change has been to my breasts. They are not as large or full as they were – I feel like the bloom has gone off them! I breastfed noth my girls til they were two though, so some change is to be expected.
Previous post here.
I have a incredible update to my story. My son I gave up for adoption well his dad and I got married. We got reunited with our son on our wedding day. He and his family was at our wedding. His adoptive parents are amazing my son is now 22 and I have never been happier. I have learned through all of my life experiences that everything happens for a reason and there is a plan for each thing we face in life whether it be bad or good. I have never felt sexier, more beautiful, and complete in all my life. I will always greive for the loss of my baby but know that someday I will be reunited with him. These pics were taken just a month ago. I believe that when you love yourself love will find you. My body is not perfect no where close to perfect there are things I wish were different but I know that every flaw I see is part of the beauty in my life. Each stretch mark each grey hair and the well not perfectly toned body is all part of being a mom. One of the greatest gifts in the world. I am going to be 39 here real soon and am embracing my age and my life. I encourage all of you to love yourself you become a better lover, a better mom, a better wife/girlfriend. When you love yourself your truly able to give all of you to the ones you love
Previous post here.
When I was six months pregnant, I stepped out of the shower one day and caught a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror. Looking at my bulbous belly, I realized then and there that the only way my daughter – I already knew the baby was female – could be born was by caesarean section. I went into labour naturally three months later. After 36 hours of futile pushing, however, I found myself strapped to an operating table as a team of doctors cut my little girl out of my abdomen. (I was conscious during the surgery.)
My caesarean was necessary. The baby was too big; I was too small; and without medical intervention, both she and I would likely have died. That knowledge didn’t necessarily make recovery any easier: I distinctly remember my bandaged belly aching whenever I laughed and my stitches moved. Three days afterwards when a nurse took off my bandages and stitches, an angry red mark greeted me where I’d literally been sliced and diced.
The next few weeks were a blur of breastfeeding, diaper changing, setting up my computer so that I could work at home, and touching base once again with friends and colleagues. I didn’t reflect in any great depth on how my daughter was born. But then one morning in July (about two months after the birth), it seemed to all come back to me, almost out of the blue. On one hand, I wasn’t particularly surprised at having had to give birth abdominally. I was almost 39 when my daughter was born, and older first-time mothers are at greater risk of delivery complications. My three sisters all had their children by caesarean for the same reason I did: baby too large, mother too small (in medical terms, cephalopelvic disproportion). Add the fact that I’m fairly narrow in the pelvis, and I knew even before seeing my bulging belly in the mirror that my chances of being sectioned were fairly high. Nonetheless, it was a bit disconcerting to contemplate the fact that without modern medical technology, I would most likely be dead now. In a sense, my body had failed me.
Since that July morning, I’ve read a great deal about other women’s reactions to having a caesarean section. At one end of the spectrum, some mothers feel cheated of a ‘real’ birth experience by not being able to deliver vaginally. Other women in contrast specifically request a caesarean even without medical indication because they do not want to go through what they view as the pain of a so-called normal birth (famous example: Britney Spears). I admit that during the last weeks of my pregnancy, I briefly toyed with the idea of asking my obstetrician to give me a c-section because I didn’t exactly relish the thought of suffering through labour. Then I had the fantasy of labouring without a hitch and triumphantly expelling the baby in one or two big pushes. I did indeed go through labour – and ended up with major surgery and a cut belly nonetheless.
This May 8, that will be six years ago. The angry red mark that awaited me when my bandages were removed is now a small white line along my abdomen. It’s fairly inconspicuous, but it is visible. As one of my nieces said, ‘Aunt Emilia had a crack on her tummy.’ It’s really the only tangible bodily sign that I actually gave birth: I don’t have stretch marks; my breasts haven’t changed at all despite nursing my daughter for over two years; and all my pregnancy weight was gone in two months.
As with the operation itself, women’s feelings about their caesarean scars vary from person to person. One woman interviewed in a 1980s book on pregnancy and childbirth felt inconvenienced by her scar because she, in her own words, had a thing for ‘bikinis and such.’ On the other hand, a second woman who had undergone a c-section said she looked on her scar as a badge. My own feelings about my scar are more like those of the latter woman. I remember a discussion with an ex-boyfriend (not my daughter’s father) where he told me that if I had a caesarean, I’d always have to wear a one-piece bathing suit because otherwise everyone would see the mark on my belly. ‘Oh, but you’d probably be proud of your scar,’ he added immediately afterwards.
I am proud of my scar. I don’t feel I have to hide it if I go to the beach, for example. And any sense of failure I might have at not being able to give birth ‘normally’ has long dissipated. I am also aware that if I ever get pregnant again (a very unlikely occurrence, for lack of both desire and – at 44 – ability), I will in all probability need another caesarean. A VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarean) would not likely be in the cards for me if I ever found myself ‘with child’ now.
Six years later, my caesarean section seems less of a ‘major surgery’ than simply the way that my daughter came into the world. So in that way, my scar and the operation that led to my daughter’s birth seem worth celebrating.
December 11 2010 marked an important date in my life: it was the day I stopped breastfeeding my two-year-old daughter Gabriella Michelle. I hadn’t deliberately planned to wean her on that very day. But I was unexpectedly put on an anti-seizure medication that the doctors told me was incompatible with breastfeeding. So I stopped nursing her right then and there.
It wasn’t much of an adjustment for Gabriella herself. She had been eating solid foods since the age of six months, and by the time I weaned her she was basically on a threemeal-a-day schedule. At that point I only nursed her before bedtimes and naptimes. She was using the breast more as a pacifier than a source of nourishment.
For me, though, the transition was more difficult. I must admit that in a way I felt “freer” once I had weaned her. No longer did I have to worry about wearing “lactation-friendly” (i.e. where I could easily expose a breast) nightgowns and pyjamas for the rare occasions she woke up at 1:00 a.m. demanding a midnight snack. The side effects of medicines that could pass through the milk, like aspirin and Tylenol, ceased to be a concern. Perhaps most importantly, a large weight seemed to have been lifted off my chest (pardon the pun!) at the thought that I need not be at her beck and call by providing milk for her whenever and wherever she wanted. While she had for the most part confined her “milk attacks” to just before she went to sleep, I still had to be on the alert for them in places like church, other people’s houses, and so on.
On a humorous note, I could now answer back to those people who had badgered me about never getting my daughter off the breast. A year earlier, for example, my brother asked me when I planned to stop nursing her. “I’m going to let her self-wean,” I replied confidently. “When she’s fourteen?” my brother remarked sarcastically. A (male) colleague teased me that in a few years I would be breastfeeding Gabriella through the schoolyard gate.
Yet with weaning came a certain sadness. I had enjoyed our breastfeeding relationship for over two and a half years. It hadn’t always been smooth sailing – I’d experienced everything from minor nuisances such as leaking milk (best remedy: breast pads) to potentially serious issues, like a foiled-at-the-last-minute bout of mastitis – but overall I hadn’t had any major problems. Breastfeeding, I believe, helped contribute to a special closeness with my little girl.
The sadness stemmed as well from the realization that I’ll in all probability never breastfeed again. My chances of having any more biological children are fairly remote, both for lack of interest and, at 41, of ability. And in the somewhat more likely scenario I adopted a child (adoptive mothers can breastfeed, though they usually have to supplement their milk with formula), I doubt I’d get a newborn, and the anti-seizure medication I’m taking would also present a barrier to nursing. So my breasts, like my reproductive organs, may be taking a well-deserved retirement.
Seeing my milk dwindle to almost nothing has also given rise to mixed feelings. Again, a certain sense of relief: once the milk supply completely dries up, I’ll be able to perform the breast self-examination my doctor has suggested I do regularly at my age. But the fact that my milk was once the sole source of food for my daughter and that it helped create such a close tie between us has triggered an instinctive urge in me to “hang on” to the few drops I still have.
But all in all, I must say that my memories of breastfeeding my daughter give me feelings not of nostalgia or sadness but happiness at the thought that I have crafted a wonderful relationship with her, a closeness that’s not going to go away just because I’m no longer nursing her.
Updated here.
