It all seems so petty (Kim)

Previous post here.

I had c-sections with my first two births (please see my previous posts). I wasn’t thrilled with the birth experiences, but I had living babies because of them. My 3rd child was born via successful vba2c. It was amazing to hold her right after she was born. My body was stretched a bit more, but still bounced back nicely. We bought a treadmill and I ran and ran and ran and got in to the best shape I’d been in in years. I was actually lighter than I’d been before I got pregnant with our first child. June 2013 I got pregnant for the fourth time. Something felt off the entire time – the baby didn’t bounce around like I was used to. At my 12 week dating ultrasound I left with a picture and something not sitting quite right in my brain – I STILL don’t know what was wrong, but something was. When I went in for my 18 week doctor appointment on September 13, 2013 there was no heartbeat. The baby had passed days before. I had a D&C at the abortion clinic because there was less waiting than at the hospital. I got back on the treadmill and ran and ran and ran until I was smaller than I’d been when I got pregnant so all evidence of that baby was gone. Except the heartache. And then I ate. And I gained back all the weight I’d lost after my 3rd child was born. It wasn’t much – only about 20lbs, but I was right back where I was when we’d started trying to conceive #4. And then I got pregnant with our 4th child. I was terrified. I distanced myself from her during the pregnancy. I didn’t want my heart broken again – how much grief can one person withstand? I’d joined some late loss groups after my loss and knew that nothing was certain. The moment that baby was born healthy, screaming, via another successful vba2c, my world was complete. My husband at my side – I was whole. We took a picture of our 4 babies in a chair together and felt whole. I had plans. To run. And run. And ignore the loose skin and the sagging boobs and to be in the best shape of my life so I could be healthy with my Ironman (triathlon) husband. And wear a bikini. But it still hasn’t gotten to that point. Baby is 4 weeks old now. 2 weeks ago my 33 year old husband had a major gut pain and went to the emergency room at the hospital. 2 weeks ago we found out my husband has stage 4 colon cancer. 2 weeks ago my husband had a giant tumor removed from his colon and gained a colostomy bag. 2 weeks of happiness, of pure bliss, was all this mother was allowed.

Right now the shape of this mother is broken. Scared. TERRIFIED. We have 4 kids 5 and under. I’m fortunate I don’t suffer from post partum depression because I’m enough of a mess. I don’t look in the mirror. What’s the point? My husband now poops in a bag. If he can deal with that, what’s a well used belly in comparison?! In one of my earlier posts I think I said something about worrying about our body shape being a first world problem. And it is. There are so, so many worse things to worry about, to have happen.

Love yourself the way you are ladies. You’re beautiful, you’re healthy, you’re alive.

~Age: 35
~Number of pregnancies and births: 5p/4b
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 5, 3, 2, 1 month

Update here.

Pregnancy Loss (Anonymous)

It happened around two years ago and it was my first and only pregnancy. During this time I was finally living together with just my boyfriend (now Fiancé!) for a few months after moving from one share house to another. Once we received the keys we were ecstatic! Finally living our first own home. We had a discussion in which we decided if I fell pregnant it was meant to be if I didn’t -we tried. I stopped taking my contraceptive and boom, two months later we conceived what I believe to this day to be a girl (my partner thinks otherwise). I was thrilled to say the least I’ve always wanted to be a mother and it felt right.

I was happy and the day I found out I told my boss. Don’t get me wrong I know you are supposed to wait till three months but due to constraints of where I work I made sure I wasn’t going to do any activities that may risk the chance of my baby’s survival by telling her. The response I got “You are kidding me right? Go do “insert job here” I cant look at you right now” don’t get me wrong I love my boss and she meant it in the nicest way, she was just frustrated because I was the fourth person to fall pregnant in my workplace within 4 months- mine was two weeks after someone else! All four people that she now had to put on light duties! She later came to me and said Congratulations I’m very happy for you and hugged me.

At my work there was constant talk of pregnancies from all four of us and it was hilarious to watch all the males squirm over half of the conversions being “baby talk”. Each one of us was just as excited as the other. We loved talking about how far along we were and what ours looked like compared to how far the other one’s had developed. Each of us went for our first scans one after the other booking a day off to go ‘see’ what our bubba’s looked like. I waited until I could get the scan done outside of my body, just over 8.5 weeks, because I didn’t like the idea of something going into my body -it just freaked me out a little. When that day came I was so excited. I booked a time for when my partner could come with me and off we went. I had drunk too much water and was bursting to use the toilet much to my discretion I wasn’t allowed to use until after my scan. I jiggled and twitched and even asked how long they would be only because of how badly I needed to go!

Finally! I’m being seen and they push on my stomach and say I have drunken too much water and I have to let some out I was like wait what? once I go I wont be able to stop. They told me I had to stop! I came back and they tried again. She said it wasn’t enough! while thinking “thank goodness” i was a little frustrated at the same time -all I wanted was to see our baby! When I came back I was finally able to see the screen in which shows that little ‘bean’ that was supposed to sprout into our special baby they tried to find a heartbeat to which there was none. I went into shock as they told me to go straight to the doctors and gave me a letter. the doctor then sent me to the hospital to which I waited hours and hours to be seen. Once they saw me they prescribed me an anti-d needle and said I’m sorry there is nothing we can do and it was up to my body to reject what was now known to them as a dead foetus. to me it was still my baby -heartbeat or not. wait two weeks they said and it should happen. Nothing did so i made an appointment with the anti-natal clinic who sent me for a scan again to tell me the same thing again my baby had no heartbeat. I was then booked in for a D&C. The whole two weeks is still a blur while waiting for my miscarriage to “come”. I don’t remember much until the day I had to get time off of work. Having to tell a co worker instead of my boss -who was very busy at the time, that i needed particular days off next week as I was getting my child removed. Needless to say everyone at work found out before the boss did. I didn”t want to be the ‘new’ subject at work I was grieving at the loss of my unborn child and the gossip did not make it any easier.

The week of the procedure I also had to attend a wedding where toddlers walked down the isle and every family member that knew what happened was saying I’m sorry. At the time it did not make me feel any better but worse. Less than a month later I confessed to my father what had happened with the support of one of my friends beside me (I was visiting him over the other side of the country for his 60th). He didn’t take it well and said it was my “one chance to stuff up and I used it” Gee thanks. Nice to know I have his support. He then told his partner and who said well it’s only yr first serious relationship so its probably a good thing. I was upset and offended by what they both said. It has branded in my mind since then. I understand that my father was looking out for me at the time in his own way but it still pains me to this day. He has a very set order of the way things should go. Dating minimum of 2-4 yrs before moving in together from 4 yrs its marriage /buy a house then get a pet the next year if you can handle that and you are older than 25 then sure go ahead and make grand babies for me. The conversation put me off telling my mother that I had been pregnant and to this day she still doesn’t know.

Since then I haven’t really exercised or done anything except working and spending as much time as I can with my partner. (shift worker has it’s complications when there is never a set roster.) needless to say I’ve kept the babyweight (plus gaining a few more kgs) on and have no self esteem. I understand that these things happen it is all apart of pregnancy but I was so crushed and I am not as motivated as I once was. I don’t feel as sexy as I felt I once was and No matter how many compliments my loving man gives me I feel as they are not completely true.

Until I wrote this I didn’t realise I needed to talk it through.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

My body was ruined and I’m left with nothing. (Anonymous)

I have a child and yet I have never heard her cry. Pregnancy dosnt mean new life to me, I lost all happieness and innocence that I ever had. I’m 23 years old, weigh 143 pounds and have an angel instead of a child… I was happy with my prebaby body, 120 pounds, 5’2″, adequate chest, perky butt and a flat tummy. I was thrilled to be pregnant but the entire pregnancy I fought with the scale. I knew being pregnant I would gain weight but that still didn’t make it easier to watch the numbers climb every week. I remember the first time none of my clothes fit. We had dinner plans with friends and I literally destroyed my closet looking for something presentable to wear. I ended up crying on the floor and canceling my plans. It sucked. The rest of the pregnancy I wore my husbands shirts and sweatpants. And then the first stretch mark showed up and I slathered on every kind of coco butter and lotions I could find. Then the next day another popped up. And another. And another….no matter what I did I could not control the dark purple vertical infection that was taking over my breasts, tummy and sides. I made peace with myself at about 8 months that it all was going to happen wether I liked it or not. That when I had the baby I would breast feed, go on walks with the baby sleeping in the stroller, that I would exercise and I would loose the weight in no time. Then I went into labor. We had our bags packed and car seat in the car ready to go a month before hand. All that was left to do was spot clean her room to be sure it was absolutely perfect. One could say it was fit for an angel. Then the supposed to be best day of my life turned into the worst. At 41 weeks my baby lost her life, the doctors could not find her heartbeat. So in the end not only did my body become something I hate to look at, but something I hate to be in. It betrayed me. Women are meant to make babies, but my baby was killed by my own body. To go home still swollen and with a body of a new mother but empty handed is the worst feeling ever. It has been just over a year since I planned my babies funeral and although I still hate my body for killing my baby girl, I can’t help but embrace my mommy body. It’s my physical proof that I am a mother. That my baby DID exist. And each mark is because she grew, she kicked, she wiggled and turned. It was her only home, how can I hate it entirely?

When is Enough Enough? (Kasey)

Hello, my name is Kasey and I am 42 years old. I have one precious daughter from my first marriage in her very early 20’s. I am seeking some impartial, independent and heartfelt advice because I find myself in a place of confusion and heartache. I got remarried 18 months ago to the love of my life who is 5 years younger than me. It feels like I have spent the last 2 years of my life trapped in a web of grief, trauma, longing and fear. It started when I fell pregnant to my now husband naturally and most unexpectedly 5 months before my 40th birthday. I was devastated to hear no heartbeat at my 10 week scan which I attended alone. A missed miscarriage. My dear friend had her first IVF embryo implanted the day after I learnt of my sad news. I could barely be around her for months afterward because I felt so envious that it almost destroyed our friendship and she could not empathize with how I was feeling. After 6 months of intensive counseling, I was advised to start IVF immediately due to my age and irregular cycles. I did my first IVF cycle in June 2012. I only had 2 follicles grow after intense hormone therapy and the day of the egg retrieval revealed there were no egg in either follicle….another little piece of me died that day. Fast forward to November 2012 and I am ready to start my 2nd IVF cycle however I am now advised that I cannot because my blood work revealed my Follicle Stimulating Hormone (FSH) is too high and I will likely be a very poor responder. I was advised to take a break, focus on my upcoming wedding and perhaps try again in the new year.

Fast forward to June 2013 and I have a new fertility specialist. During this 6 month break, my husband and I convince ourselves that our chances of having a baby with my eggs is virtually nil and the grief and trauma of the previous year weighs heavily on me. We make a life changing decision to go the donor egg route. It is a long process with intense counseling sessions for all parties involved and a cooling off period of 3 months to protect the donor if she changes her mind. Throughout this process, I am advised to keep trying IVF to see if I produce any eggs. After 4 back-to-back cycles of stimulation, all of which were cancelled part way through due to inadequate or abnormally high hormone levels, I was still eggless, suffered a large cyst and 12 days of severe dysfunctional uterine bleeding which required me to be hospitalized. I was exhausted and all my hope had vanished by this stage. Here is the thing….and please find it within yourself not to judge me and if you feel you are not capable of this, I respectfully ask you to refrain from commenting…my donor is my daughter from my first marriage. She produced 15 beautiful eggs and every single one of them fertilized and were frozen on Day 3. At the end of 2013, four weeks after my brief hospital stay, I was implanted with one perfect embryo that had been grown to a day 5 blastocyst. I truly believed that a miracle would occur and that god had answered my constant prayers. Words cannot describe the selflessness and generosity of what my daughter had endured and gone through for us. Two weeks later the joy we felt from a positive pregnancy test was indescribable…it felt like the grief of the past 2 years just glided off my shoulders.

Over the next 4 weeks, I endured bi-weekly blood tests and a rising sense of dread and debilitating fear that something was wrong because the pregnancy hormone HCG was rising slowly and not doubling as it should. I was finally diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy in one of my tubes. Ironically, the same dear friend I mentioned above was pregnant with her 2nd baby…we would have been due a week apart. Needless to say I was absolutely crushed at my news. I felt like I had been betrayed by god and to this day I have not been able to pray, my faith just disappeared in my grief and pain. It has taken me 6 months to recover both physically and emotionally. During this period I asked for space to grieve and heal from my dear friend because I could not face the reality of her pregnancy and my loss once again. She ended our 10 year friendship over the telephone.

Two weeks ago I started estrogen hormone therapy again to prepare my uterus for another embryo implantation. After 11 days of treatment, 4 of which were spent with dysfunctional uterine bleeding again, the cycle was cancelled due to my progesterone being abnormally high. I was told to cease the oral estrogen and wait until the beginning of my next cycle upon which I will have blood tests on day 2 to see if my hormones are baseline before starting anything. Just another disappointment to endure.

Today I wanted to freely express my story and how I am feeling to anybody who is willing to offer any advice or thoughts for me because I am tired of burdening my family and friends with my grief. I am so full of fear. I don’t know if I should even try again? Perhaps I am being punished…maybe I will never carry another baby to full term. I am terrified of another failure. Perhaps god has a different plan for me, no matter how much I long for a baby it may never happen. Not sure how to accept that possibility. Thank you for reading.

Breast Issues (Anonymous)

I am a 24 year old mother of 1 loving boy who is now 10 months old and has been breastfeeding since he was born. I have became really worried about my breast probably about the time my son was 7 months old. My boobs look like the right is larger than the left. My right boob has always slightly been bigger than the left but not noticeable to others just me. But now it’s like my right boob is 2 cups bigger than the left. Before getting pregnant I was a 32C. I’ve been reading a lot of forums online with women who had this same issue. Some say their boobs go back others say it stayed that way and so they fixed it with breast augmentation. And with that being said I feel like I will be one of those ladies who need a breast augmentation. And my son doesn’t prefer one breast over the other. Granted, the right makes more than the left but he spends equal amount of time on each. Please tell me what happened to yours after breastfeeding and any other advice you think is necessary.

Win Some, Lose Some (Nicole)

Nobody ever told me what to expect after pregnancy…it really isn’t a topic that is discussed socially or in the media. In fact, if it were even commonly heard of, I have a feeling a lot of young women would do everything in their power to keep their ‘bikini bodies’ in tact.

I found out I was pregnant when I was 19, I had my daughter shortly after I turned 20. She has been the biggest blessing in my life, but I always look at my body and it brings back a woosh of emotion. Mainly sadness.

I was always a very attractive and desirable girl… flawless skin, size 1, flat tummy, & a good heart. I was never vain. The only body issues I had every had was I felt my breasts were too small, since early on in high school I’d stuck with a size 34B. I weighed 115 lbs. pre-pregnancy, one year after birth I now weigh 120. It’s an extra 5 pounds that are here to stay. After my pregnancy, I had attained a few stretch marks that were silver the whole time, I did not realize I had them until after I gave birth, it was very disappointing to discover that I did have them when I thought I had made it threw with none. My boyfriend kept reminding me throughout my pregnancy that if I did get stretch marks, he would not be attracted to me sexually anymore. I feel that his cruel, thoughtless remarks are the reason that I held postpartum depression for so long. Many other flaws that probably nobody else would even notice: my belly ring hole had stretched out, I have a pouch and a crease that makes me appear as though I had had a c-section even though I delivered vaginally, my weight redistributed [I now have size C breasts which solved my breast insecurities; they are not as perky as they once were, but that doesn’t bother me], but along with that came wide hips & a lot of loose skin which makes it extremely difficult to find a pair of jeans or a shirt that fits me just right that flatters. Along with my new breasts, I gained a big booty after my pregnancy. And I like it!

Amongst many negatives and few positives, my metabolism slowed down dramatically making me prone to weight gain, which I am struggling with at the moment. It’s been extremely difficult for me to adjust from having a fast metabolism, eating what I want, when I want, to having to count every single calorie and carb to keep myself at a steady 120.
I know I have a lot to be thankful for, but I also can’t help but look at my appearance so critically. I am not who I used to be… no longer desired and flawless. So hard when all that men are programmed to appreciate is outer beauty and us women like to judge and compete for perfect figures. I have a beautiful and smart baby girl, and it seems so selfish to be worried about my appearance. My head tells me to knock it off & stop worrying about what others see because nobody is as critical to you as yourself. People say you come to terms with the changes, but I don’t think you do, you just learn to live with it because that is all you can do.

Frumpy and Angry! (Anonymous)

Im 22 and have a 3 year old daughter… she wasn’t at all planned.. but my ex wasn’t a very nice person either, I do not regret her she I my world! See this relationship was horrible I was like a possession not a equal human being, I was treat like dirt hit and often made to do sexual things I did not want to.. I never had money to spend on my self such as new clothes or a hair cut..not even a chocolate bar!! As all my money went on his habbit..I suffered from severe depression before I fell pregnant I hated the world I hated myself.. I hated people that I thought should automatically know something was going on..but how can someone know when you put on a fake smile and hide the pain and suffering… Any how. I used to be a fit and healthy looking woman, but since having my daughter doctors have told me im in the “overweight” side of things..I hate hate hate my stomach. .I constantly cover it up even in the bath.. it didn’t help when my ex would state how ugly and manky I looked and how I should cover up! Even though I split up with him over 2 years ago he still mamages to make me hate with the perfect man I’ve been with him for nearly 2 years he’s beautiful to me and always tells me im beautiful. .I still well up inside.. I’ve never been vein and never would be.. I find it so hard to think that I am “ok” or “pretty”… I think im also scared of messing things up in “being a mum” I love my daughter deeply I don’t know what I would do if she was taken from me! Im not the most feminit looking woman but I do want to feel pretty! I love getting my rockabilly look on for certain occasions I love feeling pretty..but on most days I feel hideous and depressed. .I don’t know wether this is because of what I went through for 5 years feeling worthless and inadequate but I do!… I guess what I trully want is to be able to love my self or atleast have some self-esteem and confidence!!

I also want to know..if anyone has gone a diet and felt any better after there goals?!


I am a mother of 10 children. The last two being twin boys. My firstborn twin boy died in February this year aged 4 months. I would generally be the first to complain about my figure post childbirth. But my experience has shown me what’s important in life. I would gladly be a size 24+ if i could just hold my baby in my arms one more time. So ladies forget figures and love your babies… Most precious things to be focussed on.

Feeling Guilty (Ori)

Age: 22
Other categories: Postpartum, Belly, Belly, Breasts or Body Art, First Pregnancy, PPD

Having been at the hospital a few times the week that I gave birth, when we went in around 11:30 pm concerned about bleeding they took their time.
Apparently, I was dilating, causing blood.
They sent me home a centimetre dilated. They had offered me drugs for the pain, but I was convinced that I could breathe through everything, set on a drug-free, natural birth. We were back at 2 am because I could NOT handle the pain anymore. I could barely stand up to put my shoes on, let alone hop up in the truck without vocalizing the contractions. And again, because I had been there so /many/ times, the nurses took their sweet time, while I was groaning loudly in the little room..
A half hour later, someone finally came in to check how far I was and they started scrambling. I was 6 cm dilated. I have an extreme phobia to needles and they came in with no warning and told me they needed to do blood work.
I lost it.
I could not breathe anymore.
I was scared.
I tensed up and everything started to hurt more.
And THEN they came in with the IV and the gas.. I didn’t get a choice in anything. Drug-free went out the window.. They shoved the gas mask on my face to make me breathe slower. The room got brighter, my voice sounded lower… I was stoned, straight out. Because of the “need” for all of these needles, my dad had to come in. Before, I figured everything would be weird with anyone but my boyfriend in the room. My father and his wife were in the delivery room for everything. Before they made it to the hospital, the nurses were politely getting me higher and higher, making me breathe with the gas mask through every contraction and decided to have me walk to the delivery room. I don’t know how that seemed like a good idea when I couldn’t walk from the wheel chair we used to get their to the bed.. But alas, we made it into the delivery room and I crawled onto the bed.. They asked me if I wanted an epidural and I thought, “Screw it, drug free is out the window anyways, may as well take everything they’ve got.” So we waited for the anaesthesiologist and when he arrived EVERYONE had their hands on me. He hit a nerve in my back and I jolted, instantly there was a migraine, and he had to move everything and do it again. My step mom was holding the cloth over my eyes, my boyfriend was trying to hold my hand on the right side, my dad was playing with my hair and on the left side the nurse was death gripping my arm and my leg. They placed the mask on my face with the elastic o no one had to hold it. Getting claustrophobic, I moved the mask to my forehead, and that was then holding my cloth up. The nurse to my left kept telling me to push three times during contractions and I couldn’t get her to shut up. I just nodded and said “mhm.” My dad tried telling me that I could do it if I tried. “You get knocked up and then you can tell me what to do,” was my response. Somewhere in the midst of everything, I’d told my boyfriend that if he ever tried touching me again he was dead. I had also said that “these contractions are dicks, you think you’re good and then it’s there.” Twenty minutes after the anaesthesiologist had given me the first needle and the wonderful migraine that I am still paying for, he came back for the second part of the epidural. He stood there for a minute and turned around. It was too late.. I had already been pushing and the baby was almost out. During contractions, I was throwing up in my mouth. Choking on vomit, it’s hard to keep pushing. They told me just to let it go, because it had gone on for about 45 minutes. I opened my mouth and tried not to choke it down. The first contraction that came with that I projectile vomited right into my doctor’s mouth. My father was trying not to laugh and said that vomit made him sick, and turned around for a snicker. I saw my doctor rush to the sink and heave a couple of times and spit before she came charging back and got right in there to “help” me. She placed her fingers inside of my vagina and tried to help stretch my perineum and labia to prevent tears. I shrieked louder every time she touched me. I was already very sensitive, the epidural hadn’t kicked in at ALL and there was no numbing going on. At all. I looked down and saw the baby’s head coming out of me. That’s not an image I can wipe away from my retinas. “Ew” was all I could say… Everyone aside from my boyfriend and parents, was saying “Do it for the baby, you are that much closer to being a mom.” All I could do is say, “Fuck.” I never wanted to be a mom. Ever. With the final pushes they put the baby on top of me. I looked down, said, “Gross.” And looked away. My boyfriend didn’t want to cut the cord. He considered it for a moment but after he said no my dad was already getting in there to do it, so he backed off. The doctor kept putting her hand in the way and my dad is blind in one eye. The cutting of the cord was successful, no hands were sliced. So, now they came to give me stitches, and I lost feeling in my right leg, thanks to the half-ass epidural. They kept telling me it’s not that bad, I won’t feel it, I didn’t tear that badly. So, obviously, I asked if we could skip the stitches.
I was told no, I won’t feel a thing, they will freeze it. I felt the freezing needle go into my vagina.. The freezing didn’t seem to take effect and I felt every stitch go through, and the thread being pulled through my skin.
Anyway, I had a baby girl, that I was instantly ignored for, for three hours in the hospital.. My boyfriend was wanting a girl and we didn’t find out the gender, but I still would have liked to have his hand to hold or something.. Two hours later, because of my bum leg, we got to move to the mother/baby ward. My boyfriend spent the night in the chair beside the bed.. I could not sleep due to the spinal headache that I had acquired from the epidural that I didn’t need. But any time that I had even dosed off, I had to get up to feed or change the baby. And he was passed right out, not waking up for anything. He left for work in the morning and right on cue, someone came in trying to tell me that a doctor had ordered bloodwork that morning from me because I’m pale. I have an iron deficiency.. I’m naturally very pale.. I was exhausted and upset and hungry.. I wasn’t going to have colour. Luckily, MY doctor just happened to be in the area and told them to leave it be and let me take my vitamins. The nurses then started giving me T3’s, knowing that I was breastfeeding, and assuming that I was still in high school. They actually had asked me about high school. The baby was sleeping a lot and jaundiced and not feeding well because she would not wake up. I didn’t know that it was the T3’s until I went to the pharmacy to get something to help with the spinal headache as I refused to get a blood patch. No more needles for me, thanks… A few more days consistently taking T3’s and the baby may have just not woken up..

Well, now I am 12 days postpartum and feeling really alone, inadequate and guilty.
I feel guilty because I can’t seem to appreciate how lucky I KNOW that I am. I still haven’t accepted the fact that I was pregnant, and now I’m a parent.. I have a hard time calling my boyfriend a father and I can’t see myself as a mother..

Reasons why I know I’m lucky:
-no cravings during pregnancy
-no swelling during pregnancy
-no morning sickness
-no fatigue
-25 lb weight gain during pregnancy
-lost 15 lbs instantly after pregnancy
-5 hour labour, with 2 labial stitches, perineum still fully intact
-very content baby, sleeps well, not fussy
-huge support system (6 siblings, 8 nieces and nephews, parents, grandparents, friends, and my boyfriend)
-my tattoos survived, and have few stretchmarks between my legs, on my breasts and on my sides
-I am breastfeeding with no problems
-I ate what I wanted when I wanted to and still had a healthy baby
-I went clubbing at 7 months pregnant for a stagette and had more fun than the bride

Reasons why I feel guilty:
-I know I’m ungrateful of all of the above
-my boyfriend does nothing but irritate me and he is just trying to help
-getting jealous of the baby
-I feel like I’m just going through the motions of motherhood, I have no attachment to the baby
-smiling and pretending everything is okay because I got enough lectures about being pregnant when I never wanted to be
-I dealt with prenatal depression before the baby and ensured my boyfriend everything would be okay when I wasn’t pregnant anymore, it’s not..
-I’ve already had horrible thoughts of things I could do to the baby to not be a parent
-I’ve thought about leaving in the middle of the night
-I feel deformed and disgusting and helpless but I don’t feel like I can say anything
-I can’t find anything that doesn’t outline how beautiful birth is, how much love I should feel and how I should cherish these moments and I don’t feel that way at all.. I hated being pregnant, I cried for a week when I found out and never came to terms with it
-I know I don’t look “bad” but it’s a big change from what I’m used to, and not as good as I would like..
-I went up 5 jean sizes and can’t do anything about that

Ori is not my real name. This is an anonymous post.. I just need to get this out SOMEwhere where I’m not slapping my loved ones in the face.. And hopefully, someone else might feel this way, read this and not feel so alone..

Through Fresh Eyes (Danielle)

Age: 31
2 pregnancies, 1 birth

I am incredibly grateful to be the mother of a wonderful three year old son. Being a mother is one of the hardest jobs I have ever had and it takes toll on your physical body and your mind. My body is full of scars and loose skin and if you had asked me over a year ago to eradicate every inch of it I would have told you yes – in a heart beat!

Something changed a year ago, actually my whole life changed, I experience a miscarriage. It changed my whole world and the way I look at it. I became quite sad, friends disappeared, I made people feel terribly uncomfortable – no one knew what to say to me. After some time, I wanted to talk about it, but had little in terms of an audience. I started to blog regularly and turned to online groups and support. Over time I learned there was something to learn from this.

The miscarriage was incredibly difficult but it was a gift, a grand lesson to me in just learning to trust, believe and relax into life. It was a gift because it gave me new eyes. I could see that I just wanted to skip over the difficult parts of my life; I wanted to rush through pregnancy, rush through my sons temper tantrums, and rush through those people who seemed to hurt. Those things that I was trying to rush through were sometimes difficult but they helped define and help me to appreciate the good things. I used to think it was all about balance, you needed the good with the bad but now I think it’s about how you look at it. Just because something good happens to you doesn’t mean something bad needs to happen to you, those bad experiences help you realize just how awesome those good things in your life are; when you realize that you just see the good, its like a voice shouting out to you. You want the good things in life to shout to you, so the bad things don’t seem so loud.

Through my loss I learned that it wasn’t the right time for me, and my darling little one waits for a ship to sail on into this world full of love and support when the time is right. This is what I believe; it’s what I have come to know as true. It doesn’t mean I did anything to bring on a miscarriage or it was my fault, it just means it wasn’t the right time and I do believe there will be a right time.
This is just my experience, it just applies just to me, and your story is unique, just for you. If my story can help you feel happy or provide some calm in your storm that makes me happy because I was once in the midst of a terrible storm and I found comfort in those who could speak about the raging waves. I think it’s incredibly important for all of us to continue to share our stories and experiences. Don’t forget or pretend everything is perfect, because it isn’t – no one is, and that’s what makes us beautiful women. This human experience is imperfect, that’s the point, and we should celebrate our imperfections because they are beautiful. So tell your story, don’t forget it or hide it, it is beautiful celebration of life.