I have been searching the web looking for overweight women who are pregnant so I may gain the confidence that I am a normal beautiful woman even if I am larger. Even while browsing, I get the “shes-still-smaller-than-me” syndrome, so I wanted to submit my picture to show that even a large number can have a beautiful body. I weight 345lbs and this is me at 9 weeks pregnant.
I have given birth twice so far, once by c-section, and once vaginally. My youngest is 10 months old now, and I’m finally starting to feel happier in my new skin. I have stretch marks, cellulite, sagging breasts, bags under my eyes, and the c-section “flap”. I will probably start a dance exercise program (Zumba anyone?) because I still feel the urge to tone. But my stretched out belly is still beautiful, as my son can attest when he chooses to cuddle with it instead of his daddy. I still feel beautiful all over, because the most precious thing in my life considers me to be the end all of awesome! How can I feel bad about myself when someone so perfect thinks I’m the best EVER?? I honestly can’t. And I breastfeed, so while my breasts are no longer perky, they sustain my precious child and give him comfort. He spends hours a day coming over to me and begging for a sip or a snuggle, and it makes me feel great to be so wanted and needed, regardless of whether other people think I’m too fat.
I’m hoping to be a surrogate this year, so I think I’ll do an update if it’s successful on how I’m feeling about my body after giving someone who can’t have children the gift of life! I’m so excited!
~Age: 22
~Number of pregnancies and births: 2 and 2
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 10 months
My husband is currently working on an Art degree and for one of his assignments he had to draw a live person, and that person was me. At the time he drew these it was my first pregnancy and I was probably about 8 or 9 months pregnant. These really helped me boost my self esteem and helped me see how he saw me, I thought I would share them with other some moms.
~Age: 23
~Number of pregnancies and births: 2/2
~Age of children and how far postpartum: 14 months/5 weeks, five weeks postpartum
~Age: 24
~Number of pregnancies and births 1/1
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are 11 months postpartum
Ever since I can remember the shape of my body has been on my mind.
Memories from childhood echo with self-consciousness, fear of being different, and separation.
From the outside I grew up fairly normal. I had one of those childhoods filled with Kool-aid, Macaroni and Cheese, and baloney. In our house hold, love was food and vise versa. And so, as I matured into a woman those connections proliferated and became my identity, the way I expressed emotion, the way I hid, the way I self-medicated. My existence.
I began struggling with my weight off and on in grade five. I had a tummy. A couple of lovable rolls really. As the years went by, my self-consciousness was deep-rooted and my teen-age self knew no different. I remember being 125 pounds in grade 9 and thinking I was a boat. At a small 5’3 I wasn’t over weight by any standard. During that period of my life, my home life became complicated and ridden with upheaval. I ended up moving away from my mother’s house and moving in with my pizza and pop loving uncle. Goldmine! I had thought. Years of neglect and self-doubt were appeased with delicious food and an endless supply at that.
I struggled. By the time I moved away on my own at the age of 17, I was a 150 pounds. Those first few months of self-dependence meant many of evenings hiding out in my little apartment with food, alone with my first true love. I lived to eat. I ate for fun.I ate for love. I ate for pleasure.
I eventually met my husband, we began dating when I was 19 and he was 24, and boy did he also love food. While neither of us were big people, we could really pack in a good evening of eating. The catch was that he had a physical job, he could burn off those calories, while mine dove me deeper into a struggle. When I was 22 we got engaged. The normal head-over-heels excitement that a newly engaged young woman normally feels was on the back-burner for me. I was worried about my weight. I managed to get to a whopping 192 pounds and I had to find some way to make the train wreck come to an end.
After over a year of exercise and weight loss groups, I got down to 158 pounds. Over joyed with my progress, our sex life exploded. Two months before our long awaited wedding date, I got pregnant. My body had finally started to feel healthy again, so much so that it took literally one instance of unprotected sex with my fiance to get pregnant. I was shocked, happy, scared, hopeful. But secretly, relieved. This to me meant that I now had permission to stop dieting.
Our wedding date came and I squeezed into my wedding dress. I already managed to gain ten pounds by our wedding date, so it took a real foot in the rear to get it on, but I did. I have stinging memories of people whispering. Family that hadn’t seen me in a decade were wondering why I was “heavy”. I remember sitting in the bathroom at the reception of my wedding, I was parked on a toilet, wedding dress and all, trying to over come early pregnancy nausea. In the stall next to me were my notoriously very thing cousins. I heard them giggling and then talking. First about the cocktails, and then about me. She’s totally pouring out of that dress! One of them said. She’s gotten so… big? The other one retorted. I froze. I wanted to die right there on the spot.
Months passed and as my pregnancy progressed I’d encounter my weight again. There it was, a reoccuring topic it sprung up at a midwife appointment like a thug in a dark back alley. Well, you’re over weight so we’re going to have to do some invasive procedures during the last of your labour, one of the midwives said. It came up, again and again, and I began to feel guilty. Like I was some how abusing my baby before she ever even got here, just because I didn’t enter pregnancy slim.
Half way through my pregnancy, I decided that wanted to get a doula. I spent so much time reading about the benifits, and with us not having any family close by, I really needed the support. That doula turned out to be the medicine I needed. She advised me, guided me, supported me, and assured my that I’m perfectly fine just the way I am. I needed to hear that desperately.
The baby came in late spring, healthy as can be. The labour was long, and my birth plan blew right out the window almost immediately, but my little baby girl was born at a normal 7 pounds 11 ounces. She wasn’t the mammoth baby that nearly everyone was predicting.
I went home from the hospital weighing 223 pounds. Despite exclusively breastfeeding my baby, my weight barely fluctuated. My eating while emotional tendency was probably helping that to remain that way too. I was a wreck. I loved my little girl from the get go but those hormones did a number on me. I could no longer blame the pregnancy on being fat. I was officially back on my own and back on the wagon.
My baby girl is 11 months old now. She has taught me more about myself than anything in the whole world. She loves me regardless of my waist size. She loves to nurse regardless of the appearance of my breasts. She loves her mommy, even if mommy doesn’t love herself. In the last four months, something inside of me clicked. I began understanding that if I don’t take care of this body, I won’t be able to care for her. Once she started crawling I knew I’d have to get into shape or else. I am now down to 185lbs, and I’m a work in progress. I appreciate my body for all the things it has allowed me to do, experience and all that it allows me to love. It’s high time for all mothers to love the bodies that made their babies. I am breaking out of this shell that other people in my life have put together for me, piece by piece, day by day. I refuse to allow myself a lesser standard of life just because I’m not thin. In the mean time I’m learning to take care of myself, to be healthier, and happier. I’m on a journey, and one day I’ll be able to say I’m at a healthier weight, but for now, I’m okay with being on this windy road, full of curves, bumps, and hills.
Age: 25
Pregnancies: 3
Births: 2
Ages: Son = 5 years old, Daughter = 3 months old
Post-Partum: 3 months
I have always struggled with my weight. I’ve been on diets, exercise regimes, and even pills. When I was 17, I was so disgusted with my weight that I turned to anorexia. I refused to eat. By the time I was 18, I lost 100lbs. I felt good, even though I went about losing the weight in a very unhealthy manner. I met my now-husband the end of 2002. We fell in love quickly and for once…my weight didn’t matter. I kept my weight even during that time and then found out I was pregnant with my son January of 2004.
I didn’t realize his pregnancy would change my body image.
I had a relatively easy pregnancy with him. Mild heartburn, some swelling…by the end of the pregnancy….I had gained 100lbs. The weight that I lost, was now back.
I had to have an emergency C-Section with him, which ruined my chances of being able to use my lower abs to their full potential, during weight loss. I had a hard time even ab-curling 10lbs…
The extra weight triggered PCOS, which means Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I have the multiple cysts on my ovaries, the weight gain, the difficulty losing weight, lower progesterone, higher testosterone…
In 2006, I got pregnant for the 2nd time. We were happy. Unfortunately, I miscarried at 12 weeks. The baby died at 8 weeks. After talking with my OB/GYN, the PCOS could have caused the miscarriage.
I didn’t get my PCOS diagnosed officially until April of 2009.
I had to endure 3 years of wanting a baby, trying for a baby, and not being able to get pregnant. I finally went searching and doctor after doctor after doctor told me the same thing: I’m too fat.
They never wanted to see why my body wasn’t wanting to bounce back. They never investigated my lack of period…
I met my new OB and he changed my life. He diagnosed me, he helped me conceive my daughter…
My pregnancy with my daughter was ROUGH, to say the least. I was constantly sick, lost a lot of weight in the beginning.
At the end, I had gained only 13lbs. Two weeks PP, I found out I had lost 26lbs!
I’m 3 months PP, and I love my mommy-body. I have lost almost 40lbs since the week before I gave birth. I would love to get healthier, but this body is something I have to live with forever. It’s not going to magically go away on it’s own and it’s not going to become super-model worthy.
My body is super-mom worthy.
Blue shirt picture (side view) = Me at 18, after losing 100lbs.
Blue nightgown, pregnant belly = Me at 19, a month before giving birth to my son.
Pink pregnant belly = Me at 25, day of C-Section with my 2nd baby.
Last four photos = Me now after losing 40lbs.
Age: 28
Pregnancies: 4
Births: 4
Kids: 7, 6, 5, 3
My husband and I were in the military when we met on a hot summer day during a training exercise and we were both filthy, exhausted, sunburned and peeling; it was love at first sight. I was 19, not quite 20, when I went in for a check-up and was notified that I was pregnant. I just couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t ready for children yet. My not yet husband and I had only been together a few months! Still, it was exciting news. My mother, whom was at the appointment was excited and when we notified my grandmother (she was waiting in the lobby) she about fell of her chair she was laughing so hard. (Nice to know I have such a supportive family.) And my mother insisted that she call my father at work. So it worked out that my whole family actually new before the father of the brand new life that I now knew was growing in that soft secret place deep inside. The pregnancy went very well although I was frustrated that I gained 70 pounds (certainly not a good thing). In fact, it went so well that the only bad thing, besides the weight I gained, was the fact that I couldn’t have chocolate. I couldn’t even stand the smell of it! James Michael was born on a beautiful summer day during a partial eclipse after only 5 hours at the hospital. My mother wasn’t paying attention, and not realizing I was in labor, let me take one of my super hot baths and boy, did that give a powerful kick-start to everything. We were 20 miles from the hospital and my mother wasn’t sure we’d make it in time. The nurse didn’t even believe that James was going to be born as soon as he was and the isolet had been turned on less than an hour before his arrival. My father was also in the room when he arrived. He’d dropped in to say hi, everything got going and he kind of got shoved into a corner. My husband caught James and then he was taken over to the corner for them to check him out real quick. It was my father that got the first real good look at him and it was my father that handed him back to me. I thought it quite fitting that he handed his first grandchild to his first born (He had also delivered me; my mother’s only home birth).
Two days later, the family that now consisted of three journeyed home to settle into our new life. I quickly lost all my baby weight except for 5 pounds but that was still in acceptable parameters for the military so I was happy. If anything I looked better because I wasn’t such a stick anymore. James was only 8 months when our next little one was conceived which was a huge shock because we had planned on waiting a couple of years. This pregnancy didn’t go so well since I couldn’t keep anything down the first three months but I gained much less weight this time, only about 40 pounds. He was due December 8 but I was shooting for December 3 since that was my grandfathers birthday and whom this little one was being named for. Instead, I go into labor late on November 25. The contractions got progressively harder and were nothing I couldn’t handle but I was hoping it was just practice. Finally the morning of the 26 I accepted that I was in full labor and called my husband home from work so we could prepare for the 1 1/2 hour drive ahead of us. This was the day before Thanksgiving and the plan had been that I would pack everything the day after Thanksgiving to drive up to my parents. I would stay with them for the week until the baby arrived but this little one had other plans. I was supposed to be making my Bailey’s cheesecakes for the feast the next day, not laboring to bring a new life into the world! I dozed most of the drive to the hospital, only waking up during my contractions and it was the same at the hospital. I was actually only at the hospital approximately three hours before Charles Adryan arrived in the world. I caught him and he was only seconds old as I cuddled him next to me. He is the most precious gift ever received on a birthday. Yep. I turned 22 the day my little monkey arrived. He looked like a little orangutan with his spiky red hair and his little wrinkly face. We had so much to be be thankful for that year.
So now we were four. I quickly lost the baby weight, except for 5 pounds again; at this time I was 10 pounds heavier than when I first met my husband but I still looked great. Sure, I couldn’t wear girls size 16 anymore and my breasts weren’t quite as perky after nursing but I still had my flat tummy. And then came the news that my state was activating it’s National Guard and I went through the terrifying process of walling myself off as I tried to deal with the thought that I wouldn’t see my precious boys for at least a year and perhaps never again. My husband and I didn’t get along well at this time. He tried to deal with it in his own way but it only served to push me further away. It was on the last night we were together before I left for Texas that we conceived our eldest daughter. It was literally the only night she could have happened since my husband and I hadn’t had relations all month. After about a month in Texas for the training, it was time to get a bunch of nasty shots so they gave all the women a mandatory blood test to make sure they weren’t pregnant. These shots would have seriously harmed the fetus and it would have been best to abort. I was barely far enough along for them to catch the pregnancy and even then they weren’t sure. I had to wait at a holding facility over the weekend for them to do another test. It was positive and I was going home. This pregnancy did pretty well; I was slightly sick at the beginning but not like I was with Charles. I was at the peak of my health and I only gained just over 20 pounds. It was a cold spring day when the doc informed me that I had started dilating and I was confident after my experiences with my first two births that my daughter would arrive in less than two days. Two days later, still in the early stages of labor there was no baby. The doctor, knowing my history started getting concerned so he had me start coming in for ultrasounds every day trying to figure out why she wasn’t dropping down and engaging. It took a further five days for the tech to finally get it at the right angle and they realized that the cord was wrapped around the baby’s throat. That is when my world fell apart again. I had to have an emergency cesarean section. I had not prepared for this at all. I knew from the beginning that I never planned on having one and I really didn’t do much research at all so I wasn’t prepared mentally or physically. All I wanted to do was scream and break things and I didn’t want anyone near me. Instead I lay in the hospital feeling like I was dieing inside while my family surrounded me. My father had talked his boss into letting him come over because it was an emergency section and things could go wrong. Less than two hours after learning why my baby wasn’t yet in my arms, Meradydd Anne Roishin was here. My husband didn’t even have time to make it since he was at home 1 1/2 hours away so it was my mother holding my hand during the procedure. I don’t remember any of it but she says I cried the whole time. It didn’t help that no one thought to show my daughter to me at all. I could hear her crying but I didn’t know if everything was ok or if something was wrong. She was two hours old when they finally brought her to me. I went through about two weeks of depression. I refused to get out of bed, I didn’t wash, I only took care of Meradydd as necessary. I felt like I had been robbed. I had dreamed of a beautiful, birth where I could once again catch the tiny being that I had created when she was only seconds old and hold her as I had done Charles. Instead I had this ugly slash across my abdomen that symbolized everything that had gone wrong. I am so thankful for my grandmother. I was staying at her house until I recuperated enough to go home, which was taking longer than it should have due to my depression. She was an RN and it was she that snapped me out of the depression. She physically hauled me out of that bed and made me take a shower and made me start caring for Deedee (her name is pronounced Meradith but thanks to my father and due to the spelling she has been Deedee since she was only hours old.)
I finally took my my beautiful daughter home when she was three weeks old and now we were five. It took me a long time to accept what had happened. It didn’t help that the doc whom had performed the procedure butchered me and I had the nasty scare to remind me of my emotional pain every day. I was now 15 pounds heavier than when I met my husband but I was no longer in the military. My ETS was only a week after Deedee was born. I also didn’t have the flat tummy anymore. Now that those muscles had been cut, I had trouble doing sit-ups and the flab refused to go away. Now I was even more ashamed of my body because in addition to the stretch marks, saggy boobs, and extra weight, I had a flabby belly with an ugly scar across it. Then I got pregnant again when Deedee was only 6 months old. I wasn’t physically or emotionally ready to have another one and I just wanted to cry but she was on her way regardless. This pregnancy did very well and I only gained about 14 pounds. It was another beautiful summer day when Kathrynn Elizabeth Eveline arrived in the world by c-section. I wanted to try a vbac but since my insurance wouldn’t pay for one (they changed that policy only a year later) I had to have another section. This one I was totally prepared for as I had accepted early on that it would happen. Once again my mother held my hand (my husband literally turns green at the sight of blood) and she also physically restrained me from decking the woman that was giving me my epidural. The daft woman couldn’t place the needle right and she kept hitting nerves; I kneed the poor male nurse that was helping to brace me. She finally gets it in only to snag it with her sleeve and contaminate it so she had to start completely over. That was a completely different experience from my first section; that one I felt only a tiny pinch. My mother made sure that they brought Kathrynn over when she was just minutes old for me to see her because she knew how not seeing Deedee affected me. Because I was so prepared for this one, I didn’t feel robbed at all. I had this tiny, beautiful daughter and now our family was complete. I completely shocked the nurses by being out of bed only hours after the birth and going for a walk down the hall so my husband could help me shower. I was also thankful that the doctor that had performed this section cleaned up the extra tissue from my previous incision so it would make a much nicer scar. My tiny daughter was only hours old when she was christened Kitty and she’s still Kitty to this day. My father was holding her and called her kitty cat. James, whom was just turned 4 only a week previous said no, he didn’t want a kitten, he wanted a puppy.
It’s now almost four years later and so much as happened. For a long time, I still hated my body. But the healing began when I met a very good friend. She’s one of those lovely hippy types that don’t shave and didn’t care how much of her breast people saw when she was feeding her son (he’s only a week older than Kitty). While I still shave, it was she that taught me to accept my body as it is and not care what others think; only what I think. I finally came to see that my body was not something to be ashamed of but to celebrate it’s unique shape because that was what nurtured my little ones. It was their tiny bodies that distorted things and their suckling that pulled at my breasts. I nursed Kitty for three and a half years; I only recently weaned her and I miss it already. So yeah. Here I am at 28 years old, sitting at 155 pounds (thirty five pounds heavier than pre-baby) that won’t come off, saggy uneven breasts, dumpy belly, and all. But my journey has made me who I am and I wouldn’t change it for the world. And my ugly scar? I have to go looking for it since it’s well hidden under my belly and even then I have to feel for it because it’s almost invisible. My husband says he actually prefers my body this way (not just because there’s more for him to grab) because it gave life to our children. It has been hard explaining to them the difference in their births. Recently my husband used an analogy to explain it. He said the boys came out the front door and the girls came out the front window. They all thought it quite funny. Our children all know about the birds and the bees. They know where babies come from. They have even seen videos of home births as well as a c-section. Nothing phased them. In fact, after the first birth they viewed I was poised to answer so many difficult questions but only one was asked. “Mom, why are babies born naked?” This is my life. I have a gorgeous, caring husband that wants me for who I am and I have four beautiful children that would not be here but for the sacrifices made. That is such empowerment. I can now look at my body with acceptance and pride. It’s pure bliss.
Age~ 23
Pregnancy/births ~ 1 Pregnancy,1 birth
Postpartum- 7 months
I had just started dating my little guys dad six months before we found out we were expecting. It was a great moment for me and I’m sure him as well.
Before I met his dad I was in a long term relationship for 5 years with a different man and had planned on marrying him and having children with him, but it just never worked, I met Landon’s dad when I was working with him and we started dating. Everything about our first six months went fast, we moved in together a month after we started dating, six months later we found out we were having a baby.
The pregnancy was so easy we had nothing but good news the whole time, we decided we didn’t want to find out the sex and waited. It was hard for me I really wanted to know.
We went to every checkup and they all went well,I did start having some trouble with my sciatic nerve and I leaked a little of my fluid(nothing to worry about). Everything was perfect and I was so in love with the dad and baby. My parents and doctor were worried about after the baby if I could handle it emotionally because I have Bipolar, but had learned to cope with it and was even medication free for over 3 years so I wasn’t worried, but they were trying to look out for me you know parents.
I was nearing the end of my pregnancy and I was stating to get excited, I had my Birth Plan ready and the OB loved it and wanted to follow the plan as best he could, which made us so happy. My due date was Monday, July 13th, 2009 and when that was a week away the OB decided to book an ultra sound for Wednesday, July 15th, 2009 just in case I was late and I was. So when the 15th can I was so excited to see the baby at least that way so I could be sure everything was ok. The OB wanted to see the position of the baby so he could make a plan for that.
The night before the Ultra sound I seemed to have to pee a lot, but since I was over due I figured that was normal, but I was wrong it turns out my water broke and was leaking slowly and only when I had the urge to pee. The doctor sent me to the hospital and said by tomorrow you will meet the baby and we were so excited until we got there and they hooked me up to the monitor and I was in full labour and didn’t even feel the contractions I was told they were bad. I thought it was ok maybe it wouldn’t hurt like everyone said it would. They also noticed that everything wasn’t ok with the baby every contraction made the heart rate drop so they moved me to a room and said the doctor will be in, in just a min, he got there and did an internal and I had not dilated even one cm. Turns out my hips were fused together (reason I couldn’t feel anything) so he wanted a c-section(not what I wanted) but we did one and Landon was born at 8:58pm just in time to still share the same b-day as my brother.
They took him and finished with me. I met him almost 2 hours later and he was so cute and big 8 14.
But the next morning they said he had jaundice and need the NICU he was there for 3 days and had a feeding tube, so I had to pump and go to the NICU every 3 hours do they could force feed him 50 ml. nothing was going the way we planned, we finally left the hospital 5 days after he was born.
I hate my new body I was never tiny or skinny, but this is as big as I have ever been. Strange part is I only gained 15 pounds while pregnant. Now I sag everywhere and and the scar i know will fade but until then I don’t like looking in the mirror.
Pictures:
Black shirt 10 weeks pregnant, Dress and phone 40 weeks pregnant, front view of 7months pp, 2 scar views and side view all 7 months pp
~Your Age: 26
~Number of pregnancies and births: 2 pregnancies, 2 births
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 8 months pp
~Any key words (second pregnancy, plus sized mom, cesarean, etc): cesarean, VBAC, plus sized, second pregnancy, Hypoplasia, IGT
I have 2 children. They are 19 months apart. The youngest is 8.5 months old in these pictures. I started this pregnancy at 206lbs and now weigh 203lbs. I gained 26.5lbs but lost most of it within 3months. My body however, is not looking the same even though I am lighter now than I was when I got pregnant. I look bigger still even though the scale says I am smaller. I had a c/section with my oldest for “failure to progress” since I didnt know any better at the time. I had a successful VBAC (vaginal birth after c/section) with my youngest…which took a HUGE weight off my chest. My body WAS capable of doing it! I wasnt “broken”!
I currently weigh 203lbs and am a size 16. I started working out 3.5 months ago and was a size 18 and 210lbs. I run 3.5-4 miles at a time, 4-5 days a week and do strength training 4-5 days a week as well. My calorie limit is 1700 a day. It is so frustrating to be doing all this and STILL look like I do. I hate the way I look. I hate the fat overhang that I have. I hate the back fat. I hate the fact that from the side, my boobs and belly fall in one straight line.
I was always active and thin…then I gained a bunch of weight during a stressful time in my life…got pregnant before losing any of it and then got pregnant again when my oldest was only 10 months. I refuse to be in pictures anymore. I just want to cry when I see them, so whats the point?
I hate the way I look. and I hate my stupid, deformed breasts. Not only at they ugly and small, but they dont even work! I am not breast feeding due to Insufficient Glandular Tissue (IGT – tubular hypoplastic breasts – I only produce about 8oz of milk a day MAX even with all the supplements, prescriptions, pumping, nursing round the clock, etc..). I will never have breasts that dont look deformed…I used to console myself with the fact that they serve a purpose and as long as they can feed your children then who cares what they look like….but I cant even feed my babies!
The first picture is me 3 months pp from my first. The second picture is me at 38 weeks with my second (delivered at 41w5d). The rest were taken at 8.5 months pp from my second.
Age: 23
Numbers of pregnancies and births: 1
Children: 1 awesome daughter, 3 years old
This is who I am and unfortunately I’m not too happy with myself. No matter how much weight I lose, my stomach doesn’t seem to shrink. I’m currently 175 pounds and I plan on getting down to 140. I really hope I see some major changes in my tummy, otherwise that’s really going to suck. I was 19 when I got pregnant and barely 20 when I gave birth to my daughter. Before I got pregnant I was maybe 140 pounds. I got up to 195 pounds right before I gave birth to my daughter, then I gained an additional 20 pounds because I had postpartum depression and I didn’t hardly go anywhere for the first year of her life. I don’t know if I can accept myself for who I am now. I hate my body and I obsess over my stomach all the time. Also, Finding clothes to hide my tummy is a pain in the butt as well. I could honestly care less about my stretchmarks, but the flabby tummy has got to go! Anyways, I’m really blessed to have my daughter and my fiance! My fiance is very supportive and he could care less about my tummy. I wish I could feel the same way. I would post pictures of my daughter and I, but a few friends of mine visit this website and I would be mortified if someone I knew found out how I looked underneath it all…
First of all, I would like to applaud this site. It is wonderful to see you celebrating the real beauty n a mother instead of criticizing the perceived flaws that so many of us think we have because we don’t match the air-brushed photos of the celebrity moms that have a personal trainer, personal chef, full time nanny, and entire crew of hair and makeup people to make them appear perfect. I also felt you ladies should see what a truly “plus-size” mom looks like, since most of the women calling themselves plus size are anything but.
Anyway…
I’ve never been happy with my body. I thought I was too skinny, because that is what my mother always told me.
When I got pregnant with my oldest, right around my 18th birthday, I was a petite and skinny little thing. 130 pounds, but very busty (D cup) already, so even at 5’3″ that was pretty thin. I had a fairly smooth and uncomplicated pregnancy although the father and I split up because he became abusive. I gained about 40 pounds. Then in January of 1999, I gave birth to a wonderful 7 lb 15.8 oz son. It was an easy birth, other than the fact that I hemorrhaged pretty severely.
I lost almost all of the weight pretty quickly. I actually liked the way I looked with that 5 extra pounds that didn’t want to go away. Then I got on the Depo-Provera birth control shot. My weight started to balloon almost immediately. I hated it. But it was convenient, so I stayed on it. My weight ended up around 185 pounds.
When my oldest was 2, I started dating a man who would become the father of my second child. He and my oldest bonded almost instantly. That was “Daddy” in my son’s eyes. So when we split up after a year and a half, he asked if he could stay involved (his biological father never was) so for the sake of my son, I said yes. About 2 weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant. Big surprise to say the least, as I was still on the Depo. We discussed things and realized we could never make things work as a couple, but for the sake of (both!) kids, we would try to be friendly. After another uncomplicated pregnancy, I gave birth to a beautiful 8 lb 12 oz boy. The only real trouble with that birth was that his head came out fine, then his shoulders got stuck. After a lot of straining, so much that I broke blood vessels all the way down into my chest, he was out.
Another year and a half passed. I dated some, but no one too seriously. Then one night when my ex had the boys, I went out dancing and met the man who would become my husband. We hit it off instantly. After almost a year together, we moved in together, and then a year after that, and St Patrick’s Day of 2006, we got married. He had 2 kids from his first marriage, an I had my 2, so we didn’t plan to have any more. Then in September of 2007, we found out we were pregnant. We were shocked but thrilled. Until a few days later, when I miscarried. This devastated me, and I realized I wanted another child. But over a year later, when my cycle still hadn’t returned to normal because of my miscarriage, my doctor put me on the pill too try to regulate my cycle. I was almost 29. Since I became a mother at such a young age, I told myself for years that 30 was my cut-off for having kids. So we didn’t expect any more. Then in the beginning of April of 2009, just before a trip my husband and I were planning to Las Vegas for a weekend, I started to realize I was feeling some pregnancy symptoms. I figured I would take a test just to be safe, so I would know if I could have some drinks on our mini-vacation.
IT WAS POSITIVE!!!!!!! I couldn’t believe it. I was pregnant. I was also up to 290 pounds. However, I only gained 9 pounds with this pregnancy, and on December 2, 2009, I gave birth to a 8 lb 5.5 oz perfect baby boy. This delivery was a lot harder on me. Probably because I was so out of shape, but I couldn’t do it without drugs this time. After having contractions that were so painful that my whole body tremble like a seizure, plus some other unpleasantness, I finally agreed to an epidural. As soon as they placed it, my labor went by FAST. Within an hour of it being placed, after 3 pushes, my little man was out.
Within a month, I was down almost 30 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight.
I breastfed each baby, but not for as long as I wanted, due to infections in my body causing the milk to dry up not long after each was born. After it happened this time, I gained back 15 of the 30 I lost. But I am working on it.
However, even if I never lose another pound, I know that every stretch mark, every line, every pound is worth it. Because I have the 3 most perfect little boys (in my opinion at least) on the planet because of what my body went through to give them to me, and THAT is what makes me truly beautiful.
Age now – will be 30 in less than a month (great timing for my cut-off point)
Children’s ages – 11, 7, and 16 weeks
Number of pregnancies – 4 (possibly 5, I may have had a very early term miscarriage when I was 16, but never went to the doctor to confirm)
The pictures I am attaching (other than the ones with my boys) were all taken with my phone tonight, not the best quality. One is of my breasts, one is my breasts and belly form the side, one is my breasts and belly while sitting, on is with my belly lifted out of the way to show the stretchies on the skin on the front of my crotch. The others are the wonderful causes of my marks of honor. One with me, and one without.
Updated here.