Postpartum

I Feel Okay With It (Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Children with Health Complications, Complications in Pregnancy, Postpartum, Pregnant, Second Pregnancy, Submissions 2 Comments

Age: 24
Pregnancies: 2 (currently pregnant with #2)
Births: 1
Age of Children: 2 1/2 years

I am 24 and currently 29 weeks pregnant with my second child. I started my first pregnancy overweight by about 20lbs. My first pregnancy was an emotional roller coaster of cervical shortening at 21wks, preterm labor at 23 1/2 weeks, a Christmastime hospital stay for an entire week (including Christmas), strict bed rest at home until 37 weeks and weekly self injected progesterone hormone shots, and 60lbs of weight gain. In the end it was all worth it of course because I was able to carry my beautiful perfect son almost to 40 weeks! He was born just 3 days shy of his “due date”. And then the next roller coaster began… despite all the healthy looking fetal echocardiograms, he was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect called Pulmonary Stenosis (the same one I have) and a pretty severe tongue tie. Breastfeeding was a challenge right from the start and despite asking multiple times a day, every day for the three days were in the hospital after he was born to see a Lactation Consultant, we never saw one. I didn’t get to see one until he was 5 days old and the woman I saw was so rude and abrasive I was afraid to go back when I still needed help with breastfeeding. When my son lost even more weight than is normal after birth, I finally went back to the office and saw another LC. She was AMAZING. The only issue was my son was getting so tired while trying to nurse that he would fall asleep after only getting about 1/2 an ounce of milk. This was due to his tongue tie as well as his heart condition. Then we began the long journey of pumping and using a nipple shield to help him latch more efficiently and feeding him from a bottle when he was too tired to nurse at the breast. We also started the process of trying to get his tongue tie clipped by a doctor. Insurance said it wasn’t medically necessary… it took his doctor showing them his weight loss & heart defect paperwork for them to approve it. He finally got it fixed at almost 2 months old. That was a horrible day in itself, but I felt like we would really turn a corner in the road to successful breastfeeding after that. I was so wrong. My son already had nipple confusion and would no longer nurse at my breast, even with the silicone nipple shield. I began to HATE breastfeeding. At one point in time I remember almost screaming at my son to just f***ing eat. Not one of my finer moments. I was crying every time we sat down to nurse, and I was beginning to even resent my poor sweet perfect son because he couldn’t eat “right”, and I began to hate myself for feeling this way as well as hating my body for failing me. It was at that point that I set up an appointment with the same LC again to try any last options we hadn’t already exhausted. Again she was amazing. She told me it was okay to stop breastfeeding. It was okay to stop because my son needed ME more than he needed MY MILK. She also suggested I talk to my OB provider about possible PPD treatment. So I stopped breastfeeding. Gave back the hospital grade pump I had been renting from the hospital, shoved the boppy in the closet, and threw away those damn nipple shields. We had almost no trouble with formula, thank goodness. I began to enjoy my son and spending every day with him. He was simply amazing. At 2 1/2 years old he still is. He never ceases to amaze me and his smiles, hugs and laughter are all I need to turn a bad day around. I am as I previously mentioned currently pregnant with my 2nd child, a little girl, due in December. This pregnancy is similar to my first, I have the cervical shortening (although not as severe) and am still at risk for preterm labor. I had JUST lost all the weight I started my 1st pregnancy with about 2 months before finding out I was pregnant…and now I am gaining it all back again. I had a bought of preterm labor at 28 weeks and was in the hospital for 3 days. Thankfully it did not cause any major cervical changes and I do not have to be on bed rest or any hormone shots. I am gaining the weight a little slower this time, desperately trying to keep it under control and to the 25lb maximum my provider says is “okay” for an “obese” woman. I see my pregnant belly in the mirror and sometimes I hate it. I feel fat. It’s squishy and flubby feeling at the bottom. My thighs touch and rub together 24/7. My boobs have stretch marks, sag, and are nowhere near where they were before I was ever pregnant. But then my son pats my belly and says “bee-bee shh-sssyyy” (baby sissy) and smiles and laughs and everything is okay. I feel okay with it all when I see how my son loves me and when I feel my daughter kicking. They are worth every ounce of extra weight, and every single stretch mark all over my body.

My Cut Belly (Emily)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Cesarean, Cesarean Scar and/or Incision, Mom over 30, Positive Body Image/Words of Enouragement, Postpartum, Submissions 0 Comment

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.

102714-anon-1
Photo shared with permission of Keith Penner.

This is My Body (Jessica)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Positive Body Image/Words of Enouragement, Postpartum, Pregnant, Second Pregnancy, Submissions 6 Comments

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.

102214-jessica-1

Getting There (Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) Before Pregnancy, Belly, Breasts, First Pregnancy, Postpartum, Submissions 3 Comments

I am a 26 y/o mother of one beautiful girl. I have always been small, but have been self confident of my belly as it had a little flab to it. When I got pregnant, I was 105lbs. I delivered my baby at 37 weeks and 147 lbs. I got stretch marks on my breasts, thighs, and stomach. I hate them. It’s hard to feel sexy with them, but there is nothing I can do so I guess they are here to stay.

I am now 10 months PP and starting to accept my body. My breasts used to be small and firm, but have changed. I am worried what will happen when I wean. I love them when they are full of milk, but after feeding they are deflated. My belly is still there, and still bothering me. I’m down to 105lbs again but am saggy and it bothers me.

26 yo
1 vaginal birth, 10 months PP
Breasts, PP, first child

Bottom to top: before pregnancy, 10 months pp, full breasts (when I like them), 8 months PP (my belly)

Feeling Better About My Breasts (Sha)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Breasts, First Pregnancy, Piercing, Postpartum, Submissions 9 Comments

Hello my name is Sha. I am a 23 year old, 5’6, 132 pound mama with one, perfect, healthy child. I had an “normal” vaginal delivery (helped along with a little Pitocin) with no complications or baby drama. My little girl was a healthy 7.12 lbs, 20 inches long! She was so beautiful (and still is)! Ever since I weaned my daughter from my breast at 14 months (~ 3 years ago), my breasts just do not look the way they used to, and I have finally come to the realization that they never will. I used to be a firm, solid C cup with cute little nips and now they are saggy, stretch-marked D’s with much larger aereola. I feel confident in a bra and sometimes I can’t even see the faint stretch marks that used to be bright purple, but when I am having sex with my husband (which is always naked), I feel like he is staring right at them (well… he DOES). I haaaaaate being “on top” for this reason. I feel like they “flap” around! He tells me that I am sexy and constantly makes dirty little comments about my body (what girl doesn’t like that?!) but I can’t help but feel like he is just doing it to make me feel better. I NEVER turn down his compliments or say, “You are just saying that” because I don’t want him to stop. I usually comeback with a “Thanks baby!”, or “Well it takes one to know one”, or flash him a dirty grin, etc., but I know what I see and I know it is the same thing that he sees. He seems like he is anti-breastfeeding now. I loved breastfeeding my daughter and definitely want to do it again with any future children, but every time we talk about it, he will be like, “Why would you put yourself through that again? Formula is fine. Plus it will help you go back to work”. It is a touchy subject and he knows the benefits of breast milk and the benefits for the mom, etc. I feel like since he knows all of this, he is really saying “What if your boobs get worse the second time around?!” I know he would never directly say that to me because he knows it would hurt my feelings, so I feel like he is trying to make other excuses. My belly went back to normal besides a few faint stretch marks on either side of my belly button, so there isn’t much “belly hate”. I have come to terms with my body and am trying to accept the flaws even though the memories of my “perfect” bod still haunt me.

(Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Cesarean, Cesarean Scar and/or Incision, Child Loss, First Pregnancy, Postpartum, Submissions 7 Comments

Hi there, I’m a long time follower of this site and I do hope my submission is accepted. I’ve struggled so much with myself after (and during) pregnancy, but I’ve finally got the guts up to give this a shot.

I’m 26 years old, living in Australia. I get a lot of grief from others about being too young (excuse me?) and unmarried (not their business!) when I had my baby. She was a surprise – I have PCOS and have been told since I was a teen I wouldn’t have kids. Ha! I had a miscarriage a few month before I fell pregnant with my my baby girl, which was difficult.

Anyway, she’s 4 months old now, and she’s perfect. I feel like the failure. I had to have her by section (hooray breech babies!) and breast feeding failed because I got ill after the surgery (complications). I’m 155cm tall, and I was 47kg before I was pregnant. I was 66kg at delivery. I’m now 55kg and I feel gross. I look at myself and my hideous scar and just cry. I hate getting dressed because I don’t think anything looks good on me anymore. I was banned from exercise due to the surgical complications, so I’ve just been trying to eat healthily but it doesn’t quite cut it. And no amount of healthy eating or exercise can get rid of the scar from the section. My partner doesn’t listen when I try to talk to him about how I’m feeling, he just says things like ‘you knew things would be different, stop worrying about it, it doesn’t matter…’ But it does matter. It’s so hard to get confidence back, and when your partner (who is supposed to love and adore the baby AND you) pretty much ignores you and shows not much interest, it’s super hard.

Anyway, I attach my photos to try and be brave.

Getting Better (Alice)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Body Image, Mom over 30, Positive Body Image/Words of Enouragement, Postpartum, Prolapse, Second Pregnancy, Submissions, Vulva/Vaginal Damage 3 Comments

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.

The Camera Adds 15 Pounds (Colleen)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Breasts, Mom over 30, Postpartum, Second Pregnancy, Submissions, Update 8 Comments

Previous post here.

My age: 30
I have two children, aged 5 years, and 22 months.

“The camera adds 15 pounds, you know.”

“What a stupid thing to say,” I always thought. “You look exactly the same in a picture as you do in person. So do I. It must just be something insecure people say so they don’t have to be in photos.”

Then I saw a picture of myself at 176 pounds.

176 pounds. That’s how much I weighed the day my first baby was born, according to the hospital scale. One day shy of 37 weeks pregnant, carrying 6.5 pounds of baby, and flooded with fluid from the IV that had been running into my arm and the water I’d been guzzling by mouth for three days straight. Only I wasn’t pregnant in the picture. Nor was I newly postpartum, like the weeks following my second birth. I was holding my 21-month-old and smiling at the camera. And I saw the picture and thought, “holy shit, I look fat.”

Fat. It’s a new concept to me. In my younger days I was tall, thin, and buxom. I was a size 5 without even trying. A 32F. Two dance classes a week were all the exercise I did and I never watched what I ate. My first pregnancy was the first time I ever broke 150. With my second pregnancy, starting with that extra 15 pounds from #1 that I never lost, I passed the 190 mark and was horrified when I looked at the scale.

For the first time in my life, I’m worried about my weight. For the first time in my adult life, I’m GAINING weight outside of pregnancy—rapidly, not just a pound here or there–and I don’t know why. After both births I shed about 20 pounds right away. With #1, that’s as far as I got. With #2, I was pleasantly surprised when another 10 pounds or so melted off in her first year. I’d like to take credit for it but I can’t; I’m pretty sure it was just because she nursed A LOT. Then around a year it stopped coming off and stayed, stubbornly, at 165. I started considering exercise. (Oh, who am I kidding? I’d been considering exercise since my first was born but was always too lazy to do it.)

A lot has happened in the last year. When my youngest was about seven months old my father-in-law was diagnosed with cancer. A bad one. And in the wake of that earth shattering news, I was finally able to put a label on a habit I’ve always had but never really thought about: I stress eat. I comfort with food. I bake ridiculous cakes and cookies and all kinds of tasty treats when I’m upset or when I think somebody else is upset. I’m bad at expressing my emotions and comforting others so I make them cookies instead. And then eat the cookies with them. Solace by sugar.

Fortunately the bad news quickly turned not-as-bad: it might be beatable. He had the best chance possible in his circumstances. With hope went away the desire to eat all the things. But hope wasn’t enough and seven months later, he was gone. Right before Thanksgiving. The baby was 14 months old—almost exactly the age I was when I lost my first grandfather. Cue the stress eating. Cue the holidays. Cue my mother-in-law passing onto us all of the high-calorie snack foods that she’d gotten to try to get him to eat something, anything, during his treatment. Cue my mother giving us all of the leftover soda from their Christmas party—a treat that I love, but don’t keep in the house to discourage me from consuming so much. And suddenly I wasn’t 165 anymore, I was gaining.

Then in February, I turned 30. Two months later, I weaned my youngest. And somewhere in all of this, my metabolism lay down and brazenly gave me the finger as it died. One day I stepped on the scale and it said 176, and I realized that I was going to have to DO something unless I wanted it to keep going up.

My thoughts on my body are divided. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I see my fat thighs—oh, my thighs. Where I gain all of my weight, where reside almost all of my stretch marks. When I was pregnant, and up 40 pounds, people said, “well you’re all belly, you haven’t gained any weight at all!” I’d smile and think, “That’s because I’m wearing a skirt and you can’t see my thighs.” I had to buy all new maternity pants at 9 months pregnant, not because of my belly, but because of my thighs. They chafe horribly in the summer, so I catch myself waddling whenever I wear a skirt, to try to relieve the pain. And I see my chin and neck, which gained a roll when I was pregnant that had never been there before. And I see my belly, growing now because I’m pretty sure my thighs are running out of room to hold the fat. I have a roll. In a public restroom the other day I unzipped my pants so I could sit down after my five-year-old was finished, and she said, “mommy, we’re having a baby, next month!” I looked at my belly and wanted to cry. It hasn’t been flat in a while but damnit, my five-year-old thinks I look pregnant.

Other times I look in the mirror and smile. I see my curves, I see my thin waist, I see my rather large breasts (usually, for these smiling sessions, I’m in a bra so they look nice and perky and I can’t see how far they sag after nearly three years of cumulative breastfeeding). I see a woman who doesn’t LOOK like she weighs nearly 180 pounds. I like that lady. I like those days.

One day I was getting ready to run errands, and in the process of doing so dancing around my room in a bra and underwear to the music playing on my iPod speaker. I boogied into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and smiled. Smiled at that sexy lady in her underthings breaking it down to some good music. And in that smile, I noticed my toddler standing behind me, smiling and dancing as well.

Those are the days I want my daughters to remember. I want them to know a mom who thinks she’s beautiful whether she’s 140 or 180 pounds. I want them to remember a mom who didn’t complain about dieting all the time or how she looked or criticized her body in front of them. I want them to love their own bodies and be able to look in the mirror and smile.

It’s hard sometimes. Some days I just don’t feel it. I can’t look at pictures of myself without grimacing, at least on the inside. But I figure the best I can do is try to hide the occasional loathing from them, while trying to eat better and exercise more.

I was going to post last year at one year post-partum, like I did with my first. Then I got vain. I thought, well, I haven’t exercised much so why don’t I wait until 18 months to see if I can “improve”? And then at 18 months I was gaining, so I figured I’d wait until she was two. But you know what? Screw that. Here I am at 22 months post-partum, struggling with weight gain and so far unsuccessful with carrying an exercise plan past day two. But now I know it’s not the camera that adds 15 pounds. It’s LIFE. It’s excuses and exhaustion and chocolate (delicious, delicious chocolate) and laziness. But knowing is half the battle, right? Right?

These pictures are 22 months post partum. I included one to show the improvement I see when wearing a properly fitting bra—this was shortly after my post-weaning fitting, my first underwire bra in nearly two years. It’s a 32FF.

One Year Later (Deanna)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Breasts, First Pregnancy, Mom over 30, Postpartum, Pregnant, Submissions 10 Comments

~Age: 31
~Number of pregnancies and births: 1
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 1 year

My whole life I have been thin. I’m 5’5 and I was always around 110 pounds. During my pregnancy I did my best to eat healthy, however I ate a lot and ended up gaining 60 pounds. I never thought stretch marks or loose skin would be a problem as my mother has my shape and she bounces right back after my brother and I with not one mark on her. She was in a bikini a month later. Even at 60 her stomach looks great!

I rubbed lotions on all of the time. I couldn’t work out because I had really bad sciatica, and now that I look back I probably didn’t drink enough water. I didn’t have one stretch mark until the day BEFORE my darling daughter was born. They just came out like wildfire. ALL over my stomach. The first few months after she was born, my stomach was just so bad. Dark purple stretch marks, sagging skin, and wrinkles all over my stomach. I have managed to get my stretch marks down a lot, and I am back to 118 pounds, (which I am proud of) but my stomach is ruined. :( I feel like it will never be flat and smooth again. I have this little pooch that always sticks out. If I bend over gets REALLY wrinkly and just hangs. It is so depressing. My boyfriend even said it is bad. I don’t have any breasts really so I always figured my stomach sort of made up for it. I would love a second child, I am just SO terrified my body will get even worse. I feel so bad about myself.

Photos:

Pregnant
3 months postpartum
6 months postpartum (side)
10 months postpartum (laying on side, wrinkles)
12 months (straight view)
12 months (side)
12 months (plank) :(((

Breastless, disgusting and inadequate. (Anonymous)

Bonnie (SOAM) Belly, Breasts, Postpartum, Second Pregnancy, Submissions 28 Comments

Recently I’ve been feeling more and more self conscious about my breasts. I’ve tried hard to feel better about myself after large weight gains with my 2 pregnancies (4stone+) during each pregnancy. I lost it all after my second and went down to a size I was happy with. It’s slowly creeping back on. Weight is something I can control just about… what I can’t control is the feeling of disgust when I look at my breasts in the mirror. I don’t even fit into bras properly- i’m guessing i’m a 34AA… they’re horrible, saggy, flat, just plain disgusting. I wear push up bras but feel even worse when my husband tries to grab a feel … as all he gets is padding. I feel like I’ve let him down.

It’s demoralising, I feel like a fake woman, so unsexy and gross. I’ve seen him stare sometimes at other women, for only a few seconds, nothing major to most people but to me, it’s a reminder of what I can’t give him, what I want to give him – bigger breasts and being able to feel sexy and something he can be proud about when I’m with him (of course I know boobs aren’t everything but it feels like it sometimes). I just can’t shake it, it’s been almost 6 years, of constantly feeling jealous of other women, no matter how big their breasts are… mine are nothing in comparison. I have massive gaping holes between them, I have to constantly wear tops that don’t show cleavage as mine is a gaping hole, only supported by giant padded bras… when I take the bra off I’m flat and horrid. Even during sex etc, I feel like when he touches my chest- it’s so disappointing because there’s nothing there anymore. I would love to win the lottery and get surgery – I’ve even mentioned it to my husband- he doesn’t know how to respond- knowing he’s treading on egg shells as to how I would react whether he agreed or disagreed. I can’t mention the topic to him anymore because he denies looking at anyone else, he says it’s all in my head, that he doesn’t know what else he can do. I’m sure to some extent he’s right, but in other ways, I’m not hallucinating when I see him eyeing someone, even if by accident or however brief it may be.

I feel he’ll jump ship when he comes across someone who is happier with themselves, happy with life and with their body … I can’t seem to give him that. Since kids, I’m stressed, depressed, tired, snappy, jealous and feel worthless. I can’t see how my family love me for who I am as I don’t feel like i’m very nice to be around or look at. I’m tempted to go to the GP but I know they’ll only try and prescribe anti depressants which I’m not keen on doing- they won’t bring me new breasts. I was never large to start off with- an average 34 B and have always felt inadequate. I went to a massive 36E during pregnancy because I had put a lot of weight on. I’m 5″3 and at my heaviest when pregnant was 15 stone. (with baby inside!). I’m now 9stone 2 and ideally want to go back to 8st 7lbs which is what I weighed this time last year- but that’s a different story- it won’t help my lack of breast tissue. Any miracle cures to increasing breast size or just feeling better? I feel sick every time we are around other women, even family, thinking how much bigger they are in the chest area – how more attractive they are. I feel sick like I’m so disgusting without any breasts and so unsexy- I hate it. I’m even nervous about my husband going to work and meeting someone there because they’d have more to offer than me. That’s just breasts… stomach is another issue but I can cope with that much better, even if my belly button looks wrinkly and horrible- I can conceal that ok. Any advice greatly appreciated.

~Age: 33
~Number of pregnancies and births: 2
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 6 and 3