My Cut Belly (Emily)

Nearly six years ago, I had a cesarean section. It wasn’t planned: I went through the pregnancy and into labor expecting my daughter would be born the so-called normal way. Still, over 24 hours went by, and although my cervix had dilated fully, it was clear my vagina wasn’t big enough to fit her through. So I was wheeled into an operating room, where my belly was exposed (actually, I was more or less naked for a considerable portion of the surgery), scrubbed with antiseptic, cut open with a surgeon’s knife, and -once the baby was removed – sewn up, stapled, and bandaged.

The result was a red line running horizontally along my abdomen about three inches under my navel. On my second day home from the hospital, four days after my daughter’s birth, my incision opened up slightly, prompting me to put ice on it (which did alleviate the soreness). Over the coming months, the soreness and itchiness eventually went away – even though even now several years later, I can sometimes ‘feel’ on my belly where I was sectioned and my daughter taken from my womb. My scar similarly faded, to the point where it now seems barely visible.

During those months I thought about the scar and, more importantly, the cesarean section itself. In my early twenties, I was very much into the natural childbirth ideal. A cesarean was at best a necessary evil for me. As one woman who had planned a home birth but had to have a scheduled cesarean section because her baby was breech said, in her mind home birth was good, hospital birth bad, and surgical birth unthinkable – until she was forced to undergo one.

By the time I hit my thirties, though, I was more comfortable with the idea of possibly needing a surgical birth myself. A couple of people ‘in the know’ had commented on my narrow pelvis, and I knew that the older I got, the higher my risks of being sectioned were if I got pregnant. So in the end, I wasn’t particularly surprised when the doctors told me that the only way my baby could come out of me was directly through my belly.

I also thought about the scar itself. I remember reading that after having a cesarean with her first child, actress Rita Hayworth had her wardrobe altered in such a way that the scar on her stomach wouldn’t show when she appeared in the movie Gilda. Feminist leader Gloria Steinem later spoke of a woman who never wore two-piece bathing suits because she didn’t want anyone to see her cesarean scar (Steinem, by the way, did not think the other woman should have been ashamed of her incision).

Eventually, I came to feel that I did not need to hide my scar on occasions where others might see it, like on the beach. Plus, I liked the fact that I could show my daughter exactly how and from where she was born. And I could advertise to everyone the fact that I had given life – through my belly, albeit with the help of the doctors and nurses at the hospital.

I then took a somewhat radical step: having my scar photographed. So after deliberating for some time, I called a local photographer and made an appointment to have my belly immortalized on camera. Ironically, when I went to the photographer’s studio, I noticed that a number of women had had ‘belly pictures’ taken of themselves when they were -often very heavily – pregnant. I too was getting a ‘belly picture,’ after the fact, so to speak.

Having my abdomen photographed was an experience in itself. As on the operating table, I was naked in the studio, my belly bare so everyone could see exactly from where my daughter had emerged. The photographer and his assistant zeroed in on me to find the best way of ‘capturing’ my scar. Finally, after switching the lighting and making me change positions a couple of times, they were able to get a good view of my cesarean ‘slice,’ my cut belly.

The photographer ended up taking a number of pictures of me, and my scar and abdomen, but I chose to pay for and bring home what I considered the best one (though they were all good). Speaking with me afterwards, he said that he had taken many photographs of women’s sectioned bellies but that I was the only one who was openly ‘proud’ of my scar.

And I am, of my scar and of my belly. Sometimes I wonder what people might think of me when if they see my scar at a beach or pool, for instance, or if the photographer decides to feature it in one of his work displays. Will they see me as one of those ‘too posh to push’ women (example: Victoria Adams)?

I will let you decide. Here is a picture of my cut belly.

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Photo shared with permission of Keith Penner.

This is My Body (Jessica)

This is my body. It’s going through a lot right now.

I had a beautiful baby girl 8 months ago and I am 26 weeks pregnant with a little boy that has already stolen my heart. I also have a pretty bad chest cold that I’m trying to keep said 8 month old from getting.

I have stretch marks, a tattoo on my arm that I hate, my fingernail polish is chipping, and I probably should have thrown these panties away 2 sizes ago. My boobs don’t hang the way they used to, I have what most people refer to as “back fat”, and what is this thigh gap I keep hearing about?

I can’t sleep at night. It takes me 20 minutes just to get my (five) pillows the way I like them. Then I have to pee. Then another 20 minutes to get settled again, just in time for the baby to need me. Then I doze off, and oh it’s beautiful..until I roll to my right side in my sleep and wake up in a coughing fit. Dang.

I have heartburn. All the time.

My feet are disappearing..again. I feel like I didn’t enjoy them as much as I could have when I could see/reach them in the short amount of time I had with them between healing from a c-section and this baby bump growing (much faster than the first one, I might add..but I hear that’s normal).

It’s hard to breathe. Between this cold and my already smushed lungs. I sat in the middle of my living room floor at 3:00 AM last night, crying hysterically because I just wanted to be able to catch my breath..which didn’t help the not being able to breathe thing, because I’m not a good crier.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs. A week ago..maybe? My eye brows could use a wax, my swollen fingers keep me from wearing my wedding rings (I hate that), and everything is getting bigger..except my butt. I’m totally in-proportionate.

This is my body..and I love it.

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Getting Better (Alice)

Age: 34
Pregnancies: 1
Births: 2
Age of children: 14 months

I posted an entry five months ago when I was feeling pretty bad about my body and health post-partum. I gave birth to twins last summer and suffered a prolapse not long after, and was feeling despondent about that and about how much my body had altered. I wanted to post a follow-up to say thank you for all the lovely supportive comments that other women left; they cheered me up immensely! This is a wonderful forum which made me feel much less alone.

I am in such a better place now, both physically and mentally. The girls are sleeping through the night (huge. just huge. I had no idea how much sleep deprivation would kill me), and I’m slowly losing the baby weight. I have about 8-10 lbs to go, I breast fed so have been very careful not to diet as I didn’t want it to affect my supply what with feeding two babies at once.

I know that my body will never look the same. BUT the thing that has really changed is the way I feel about that. Some of it is having had time to get used to my new body. I see the stretched, saggy and wrinkled skin on the front of my belly (an area about the size of my splayed hand placed on my stomach) as a scar. Being alive and truly living in the world means that we’re all going to get scars, one way or another. Now when I look at that skin I can see it as a symbol of how hard I worked for my girls because I love them so much, and wanted them so much. I worked to eat plenty of healthy food so they would gain weight and have everything they needed to grow. I worked to carry them and nurture them for 36 weeks and then I worked to birth them naturally because I felt like it was the best way for them to get here. I’ve worked, worked, WORKED every day since then to keep them warm and safe and fed and loved, and it’s been worth every single blemish and scar and 3am moment of desperation.

My prolapse situation now at 14 months after the birth is much improved. I found a fantastic Pilates teacher who’s been working with me for about four months now and most of the time I don’t think about the prolapse at all. The diastasis has got smaller but is still there. My stomach is a little flatter which I like. I still don’t know whether I’ll need surgery for the prolapse in the future but I do feel much more hopeful about it all. I would really, really encourage everyone out there who is dealing with similar issues to keep trying different things – Pilates, Mutu System, Hab It Pelvic Floor, I’m sure there’s lots of others. There’s a ton of help out there once you start looking.

I honestly never thought I would feel this way, and I’m ashamed to say that I used to think that other mothers who said they did were just saying it to make themselves feel better about how much their bodies had changed. I get it now. I’m not ashamed of my body in the least little bit, and I am absolutely going to wear a bikini whenever I feel like it! I was diagnosed a few months ago with Lichen Sclerosis, a skin condition of the labia which is sometimes brought on by pregnancy. Although I was very upset about it for a while I’ve since realized that all of the health challenges I’ve been faced with are just that – challenges to live better and more healthily. I’ve given up sugar and wheat to help manage the Lichen Sclerosis, and I’m committed to what basically amounts to a lifetime of Pilates to help deal with the prolapse. I used to push myself very hard physically; now I’m kinder to myself and am trying to take a more balanced approach. I’ve always been quite an extreme person and I think this has been a very valuable lesson for me.

Ugly? Not to me! (Anonymous)

Having see others’ grossed out reaction to their own and others’ stretched out bellies while I was growing up, had me feeling like it was gross, ugly, shameful, etc. Just make sure to cover it up and tuck it in really well into your control top pantyhose, and make sure you forever and ever work on losing that last few pounds, lamenting all the extra skin you now have, etc, etc.

Then came my turn to have a baby, after 4 years of barrenness, aching to have a child to hold and love. Before I was 12 weeks along, I had stretch marks forming. By the time I hit my third trimester, my belly looked like a giant cat had clawed my stomach, as I had 4 huge ragged red lines on either side of my belly button running from level with my belly button down to the waistline of my panties. (I still wish I’d taken pictures of that stage!) By the time my son was born, my belly was covered with stretch marks, from 2 inches under my bust all the way down. After my son was born, I was looking at my reflection, and my first thought was, “Now I have an ugly belly”, but you know what? I don’t! It’s not perfect, but it wasn’t perfect before. The ugly is all in how you think about it. My body will never be the body it was before I had kids, but I have my kids now. I now have a droopy belly button; a little “apron” of extra skin from stretching so far, (over 13 inches gained around my waist during my last pregnancy!) so fast, so many times in such little time (3 fullterm pregnancies in 4 years); my belly will never again be smooth skin; BUT, I have 3 adorable little ones that are growing, learning, and surprising me daily with the things they know and do. No “perfect” body could replace my kiddos! I wouldn’t trade them for anything, not even my prebaby body!

The three non pregnant photos are current. The three hugely pregnant photos are the day before each of my three kids was born.

Age: 27
Pregnancies and births: 5 pregnancies, 2 early miscarriages, and 3 live births
Children’s ages: 3 1/2, 2, infant, 15 weeks postpartum

The Aftermath of 3 Kids (Anonymous)

I am a 33 year old mother of a 10 year old boy, a 9 year old boy and a 4 year old daughter. I am including 2 front view pics and 1 side view pic. I feel that this is the best my body will ever be again. I have saggy breasts from breastfeeding. I have stretchmarks on my breasts and on my stomach all the way up far past my belly button. My belly button will always stick out. My stretch marks are as faded as they ever will be. I have diastasis recti which will keep me from ever having an entirely flat tummy again.

Pre-pregancy, my tummy was one of my favorite parts of my body. I had a belly button ring and a gorgeous six pack. I was a size 6 at my biggest. I am now a size 10, and even after years of working out, I will probably always be this size. I struggle with the appearance of my tummy on an almost daily basis….still.

I am thankful for my husband. We have been together since my senior year of highschool, and married when I was 20. He has stuck with me through everything. He is an amazing father to our 3 children. He loves me so much, and still finds me just as sexy and attractive as he always did. I think that I actually believe him when he tells me how beautiful he finds my body….although I have no way to understand how he could.

My hope in posting is to help myself become less shallow and self-focused on the way my body looks. With clothes I am very happy with the way I look actually. :) I have 3 amazing kids and a wonderful husband. There is so much more to life than the exterior, and I want to lay to rest the things that I cannot change and focus on the so many positive things in my life. I can assure you that even if I could have my previous body, If it meant not having the precious babies that I have now, or the sweet bonding moments of breastfeeding each one of them, or the intimacy that I have with my husband that far exceeds an outward attraction of lust….I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I wish the same for each person who reads this. May all we all walk this journey together of learning to appreciate ourselves, and those who love and accept us with each curve, sag, and flaw that we have. May we extend that grace to those on this journey with us.

To being our best selves ladies!

My Story (Anonymous)

31 years old
1 Pregnancy/c-section
Almost 3 year old. Born 10pound 4ounces

I always thought my tummy was the way it was cause my little boy was so big and I was the only one with it, and the only weight I out on during pregnancy was all baby. I’ve often said to my husband how I’d like a tummy tuck after another baby. My little pouch feels so pronounced in pants and skirts like a little lump that just sits there and jiggles. I have been very lucky to not have too much excess skin or stretch marks. I’ve lost 10kgs since having my boy which has made it better and a little flater but over time and more so the last 12 months, I’ve come to love it, love it cause that’s where my boy came from AND I’m loads more body confident than I’ve ever been to the point I wore a bikini at Christmas time. This is big for me cause I have NEVER worn a bikini ever in my life. It was quite a profound moment and I’m so proud of myself for not caring.

Happy for any usage of the story Bonnie and pictures attached. Thankyou for your site, it’s truly amazing!!!!

Facing Forty (Anonymous)

Age: 39
Children: 2, ages 10 and 5

I have had a love/hate relationship with my body for as long as I can remember. I grew up in a fairly volatile home – my bio dad passed away when I was very young and my mother remarried when I was six. My step dad and I always had a tenuous relationship – we fought a lot and he was quite verbally abusive – physical as well. I grew up hearing about how ugly, stupid, rotten, ungrateful and horrible I was. I believed every word. As I got older, I felt out of control and unloved in my own home. However, I learned early on that I could control one thing – my food and my body. I became obsessed with staying thin. I am a small person (only 5’2″) and have never thought I was thin (or good) enough. When I was in junior high I started dieting (though to be honest I remember watching my weight as early as 4th grade) and by high school I pretty much stopped eating. I would subsist on gum. I realized that I was only hungry if I actually ATE something – so I avoided food and tried to make it on as little as possible. I was never diagnosed with an eating disorder per se – but then again no one really knew the extent that I was avoiding food. On the flip side – when I finally did eat – I would binge. Entire boxes of cookies, or bags of candy – falling into a cycle of fast food and junk. Eventually I would begin to gain weight and I would start the process all over again. When I reached college age and moved out of the unhealthy environment of my parent’s home – I started to eat A LOT and gained quite a bit more then the freshman fifteen. I was traumatized and decided things were going to be different. So I cut back on the junk and began to exercise. Exercising changed my life. Unfortunately, I become obsessed with that too. If I thought I was going to miss an day of exercise I would become depressed. I restricted my food and increased my exercise. I was very thin – but it was never thin enough. I followed this pattern well into my twenties. Then I got pregnant. I gained quite a bit of weight quickly only to miscarry around 9 weeks. I was devastated – the loss of the pregnancy coupled with the weight gain completely set me off. I spent several weeks working out like crazy and eating little to regain control. I then got pregnant for a second time about 3 months later – and this one stuck. I gained almost 50 pounds with my son and it took me many many months to lose it. As soon as I could I started exercising again and making terrible food choices – lots of junk with salt and sugar. I finally lost the weight and got back to my pre-baby size – I felt really good about myself. While I was never able to truly kick my food/exercise cycle I was able to go about my life without constantly worrying about my appearance and what others thought. Five years later I had my second child and went through the same process as the first. I returned to the gym and took my first exercise class when my daughter was exactly 8 weeks old. I only felt in control at the gym – the rest of my life was a disaster with two kiddos, a husband that worked constantly and a touch of postpartum depression. Despite all of this, I quickly lost the 40lbs I gained with my daughter. I was so proud to put on my bikini that summer (i was 35) and show that I still had it. That was until I received an email from a girlfriend that said “women our age shouldn’t wear bikini’s – they look good on NO ONE.” I was immediately chastened and from that moment on never wore a bikini again. It was like someone had taken every insecurity I had and put it on display for the world to see. “I am fat, ugly and have been making a fool out of myself at the pool for the past 5 years.”

I wish I could say I walked away from that email and followed my own path – but I didn’t. I actually lost hope – stopped exercising – and decided she was right. I was old, fat and ugly – why bother. I gained 10lbs (which is a lot when you are short) and just felt discouraged. I spent a summer lounging at the pool in my tankini wishing I hadn’t spent the 10 years prior looking a fool in my bikini. However, this was not me. I went back to the gym, got healthy and lost the extra 10lbs and a few more. I felt better about myself. I felt almost (which is huge) in control of my eating and exercise. I felt like I could be thin, be healthy and NOT be obsessed. I will be 40 in July and feel like I am finally reaching a place where food and exercise do not control me. Don’t get me wrong – I still work out 5 times a week and watch what I eat – but I don’t let those things run my life. If I miss an exercise class or eat too much food I don’t spend days obsessing over it – I move on and realize that tomorrow is another day to make better choices. I recently traveled to Mexico with my family to celebrate some big milestones – my upcoming 40th birthday included. I felt happy and at ease with myself and my body – and purchased a new bikini for the trip. Maybe my girlfriend was right – and a women of my age shouldn’t be showing what two kids and a lifetime of gravity does to a body – but then again – maybe she was wrong. I had my husband take some pics of me just so I could remember what I looked like on this trip – and see the fruits of my labor – the Zumba, the Kickboxing, the Toning – and most importantly to realize that no – I’m not 20 – but I still look pretty darn good. I’m proud of myself – of my body – and the steps I’ve taken along way to minimize my bad choices and not let food or exercise (or really – what anyone else thinks) run my life. So – here I am – in my bikini at almost 40 – ready to share with the world my journey. Thanks for giving me a voice – even if I’m not quite ready to show my face. :-)

Almost Six Years Later (Rianon)

Age: 24
Number of children: 2
Daughter: 5 1/2 and my son is 21 months

Previous post here.

I posted my first entry 3 1/2 years ago after I discovered this amazing site. Reading it again now, I realize how different my views have changed about pregnancy, childbirth, and what it means to be beautiful as a woman.

When I wrote my first post I was a 21 year old mother of a daughter. I was incredibly insecure and vain (I’m still vain but no where near as insecure as I once was.) I obsessed about my stretch marks and boobs and butt, and if I gained a pound my world was a catastrophe. I felt that women should always try to be beautiful and wondered why we would have to get stretch marks and saggy skin when we had children. I moved to Texas a couple months after I posted it and got pregnant with my son the next year in 2011. I was terrified my entire pregnancy that my breasts (and breast augmentation) were going to be ruined and that my stomach would explode into a mass of stretch marks. I gained 27lbs during pregnancy weighing in at about 142lbs at delivery (I’m 5’2). I lost all my baby weight thanks to breastfeeding and stress within the next three months and was down to 111lbs in no time. However I still thought I looked bad, I thought my arms were chunky and that my stomach looked like an a deflated balloon.

Then something horrible and amazing happened. My husband and me went through a extremely rough patch and I took a couple of classes on feminism. It completely blew my mind. I had always considered myself a feminist but getting in depth into the history of feminism in the United States and learning how women are systemically taught to hate everything natural about ourselves really got to me. When my husband and I were at the brink of almost falling apart it also dawned on me that no matter how much I obsessed about my appearance and how beautiful a woman makes herself it doesn’t really matter. Beauty doesn’t come from the outside and when its cheap and vain it isn’t true. I was faced with new ideas about what being a women really means, and what being a mother means. It is hard being a feminist and a mother in our society. We are faced with cultural expectations of sexuality and modesty, being a mother and being a woman. I started looking at my body in a completely different way and I started thinking about WHY we women put these unrealistic standards on ourselves? Men don’t care about a little cellulite and stretch marks and if they do they aren’t worth it anyways. Only WOMEN care! Why do we torture ourselves if no one else but ourselves are judging us? Our society allows men to pick apart women like meat and we are taught to expect it. Have you noticed that we will sit around and dissect female celebrities by bits and pieces but never have I heard a woman say: “Oh I like Channing Tatum’s arms but he has a weird stomach.”

Men are afforded this luxury while women feel we have to apologize for so called “flaws” like stretch marks, softer breasts and love handles. I am an aspiring photographer and every single beautiful girl I have taken pictures of complains about something on her body. It goes to show you that no matter how perfect we think another woman is, she still feels flawed. That is what we are taught, and the only way to fight back is to not accept it.

Although I still feel self conscious from time to time I have decided to own my own feelings about my body. I don’t allow anyone else to tell me how to judge myself. Its a struggle but I accept it more and more everyday. My husband tells me he thinks I’m beautiful and I believe him. My stomach and boobs have stretch marks and I care less and less everyday. Now I wear bikinis to the beach and guess what? It feels great.

This is Me… And That is Okay (Stacie)

I am a 28 year old mother of three children, all born vaginally. I have never been skinny or in shape. I will never be a size 4. And you know what? That is okay, this is ME. It has taken me a long time to be okay with my body. Sure, I use self tanning lotions when I know that I will be wearing a dress. I even bought some hand weights to tone my arms a bit for the Summer. But I won’t look like my thinnest of friends and that is okay: this is ME. I know that not everyone has that outlook, and some days neither do I. But when I truly stop to think about why my body is this way, why I have that stomach flap that seems like it just won’t budge, I smile. Tiger stripes. Cliche, maybe, but they’re mine and that is okay: This is ME. My husband loves me the way I am, so do my children. It is time that I do the same. And I hope that one day you are able to have the same outlook that I do. Because that is you, and that is okay.

~Age: 28
~Number of pregnancies and births: 3
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 7, 3, 1

Unapologetic (Darah)

I love me with the sags.
I love me with the stretch marks.
I love me with dark circles.
I love me with frizzy hair.
I love me with pale skin.
I love me with stretch marks.
I love me with love handles.
I love me with back rolls.
I love me when I’m menstruating.
I love me when I’m lactating.
I love me with body hair.
I love me when my hands are dirty.
I love me with belly fat.
I love that my body can give life.
I love that I can sustain life.
I love me when I eat.
I love me when I’m sick.
I love me for me.

Who I am goes deeper than my skin.

I’m confident.
I’m artistic.
I’m intelligent.
I’m creative.
I’m imaginative.
I’m logical.
I’m kind.
I’m articulate.
I’m ambitious.
I’m empowering.
I’m soulful.
I’m funny.
I’m daring.
I’m charming.
I’m thoughtful.
I’m generous.

And I’m unapologetic for who I am..

~Age: 26
~Number of pregnancies and births: 4 pregnancies, 3 births
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: ten – placed for adoption, three and 5 months.