Frumpy and Angry! (Anonymous)

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

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

It hurts to look at myself, but not at my son. (Steph)

I was 22 when I had my first and only child. I had a pretty textbook pregnancy besides measuring weeks ahead. Before pregnancy I was at my heaviest – 104kg. I had no hope that I would ever fall pregnant but it happened. My beautiful 10lb son Maximus was born by emergency Cesarean on the 1st of January 2013. Due to his large size I was unable to give birth naturally – My first feeling of failure. I breastfed for three months until it became too much to feed such a big eater. Following the cesarean I had found out that my stitches had ripped open and caused a nasty painful infection – My second feeling of failure. I fell into postnatal depression and the very cry of my son would drive me to the verge of suicide – My third feeling of failure. In the year following I have lost weight – down to 89kg (the lightest I have been since the age of 15) but still cannot bear looking at myself in the mirror let alone anyone else seeing my stomach. Does this feeling ever subside? I dont feel like I will ever be happy until I can afford a tummy tuck. I even work out at the gym and find that I never feel truly satisfied due to my over hang and stretch marks. Its taken a great deal of courage to submit this story but Im hoping this will be my first feeling of overcoming failure.

I wouldn’t trade my baby boy for the world, but I would trade my postpartum body… (Victorian)

I love being a mommy but what I don’t love is the muffin top, stretch marks and saggy skin that I am left with. I went in for an induction on the 6th of August at 5pm I was in labor till 930 on the 7th when I had only dialated 2 centimeters and they did a c-section. It was upsetting but best for my baby. He was born 9lbs 7oz and 21 inches long. My baby boy will be 3 weeks old tomorrow and I am still fighting my postpartum depression. I don’t want to eat, leave the house, or have any company over. I can’t seem to pull myself out of this funk. I am so disgusted with my body and I feel terrible because my poor fiance tries so hard, but everytime he touches me or tries to compliment on how good I look my skin crawls. I hate my body and I don’t know how to cope. I want to feel comfortable in my skin and love my body again. I am 5’11 my pre pregnancy weight was 150 and I have always been in good shape. At 40 weeks I was 211! 3 weeks out I am now 176 slowly losing the weight. Seeing everyones post and knowing that my body will never be the same upsets me. I wish I had the confidence and love for my new mommy body.. I have heard that the belly is the hardest to lose and the stretch marks will never go away. I feel like the more weight I lose the more indented and ugly my stretch marks become. I can’t wait to get back into the gym and its so hard knowing I have to wait 6 weeks. I really hope that once I am able to start I won’t be disappointed and it will help me start feeling better about myself..

~Age: 20
~Number of pregnancies and births: 2 pregnancies 1 birth
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 3 weeks

Updated here.

It’s a Fair Trade (Anonymous)

~ Age: 27
~Number of pregnancies and births: 3 pregnancies, 2 births
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 2 year old and 6 month old

I love my life! I have an amazing, supportive husband and two adorable little boys who I get to spend everyday with as a stay-at-home-mom. We live in a quaint home in a peaceful neighborhood with family close by. It’s wonderful that they can share with us the joys of raising our children.

It’s been a lot of ups and downs in our mere 3.5 years of marriage, including losing our first pregnancy; a missed miscarriage confirmed at 10 weeks. It was a difficult three weeks as we waited for my body to pass the pregnancy naturally but in that time my husband and I grew very close and became certain in our decision to start a family. Fortunately, following the miscarriage, I was very lucky to have two complication free pregnancies (although physically they weren’t easy to get through) and relatively easy and uneventful vaginal deliveries. The crowning moment of my life was when the doctor told me to look down and to take my youngest son by the armpits. I pulled him from me, up to my chest and we met for the first time. I said “Hi baby” and his gaze, while I’m sure quite fuzzy, managed to meet incrediby intensely with mine. In that moment I knew the world and our family was complete.

I read and hear about other women’s stories and journeys into motherhood and I feel so blessed that I have been able to escape many of their difficulties. Yet, there is still a pain I am living with. It’s like a nagging that plagues my mind every second of every day. A nagging that I’m not good enough, not perfect enough. I’m not the wife or mother or housekeeper that I should be. I should be better with money, better with my diet, better about reading to my kids, the list goes on and on. Part of this little voice has always been there in the back of my head, the other part is a little monster that has risen out of PPD and D-MER.

Most people are knowledgeable about post-partum depression, but not with D-MER, so I will explain. D-MER, short for Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex, refers to mood swings created from the drop in dopamine that triggers a milk letdown while breastfeeding. What this means is that every time my son latches on, I get an intense feeling of panic, dread, guilt, frustration, annoyance, etc. The feelings change and are never the same from episode to episode. I have found that these negative feelings that ebb and flow many times throughout the day, along with PPD and sleep deprivation make it very hard to maintain a strong sense of self. I battle my demons with positive thoughts and some help from an antidepressant. I don’t win every battle but so far I am winning the war. Breastfeeding is very important to me and I didn’t want to stop because of this stupid thing called D-MER, so I keep fighting and try to keep winning. I have always had good self esteem and a healthy body image but the physical and emotional toll of bringing my babies into the world and nourishing them has made the negative voices creep in. ‘I’m not good enough. If I was skinnier and fitter then maybe I will be good enough’.

Most days I’m pretty certain that I will get a tummy tuck and a boob lift when we can save the money for it. On my better days I can look past the sagging skin and simply accept that this is the new me. In the mean time I’m trying to lose weight and get in shape. I ran my first 5k a few weeks ago!! Ok, well, I walked half of it. But never in my life did I think I would complete a 5K and I did it just 5 months after having my second baby in less then 2 years!

Currently I weigh 167 lbs. I started both my pregnancies at 174 lbs and got up to 194 lbs with my first and 202 lbs with my second. My current goal weight is 155. I could get down to 135 which is where I was in college, but who am I kidding, I’d rather be a little pudgy and get to enjoy all the tasty food life has to offer then be skinny and have to miss out, lol!

At the end of the day, I’m not thrilled with my body but I have so much in my life to be thankful for so I choose not to stress about it. I have an openhearted and inquisitive toddler who bring so much fun into my life and my 6 month old is a ball of smiles and laughs. I have a husband who is my soul mate and who loves me even at my worst. Those are the only things that really matter in this world. If I have to put up with a little sagging skin for all of that, I’ll call it a fair trade :)

I’m hoping that by sharing my far from perfect body it will help other women feel more comfortable with theirs.

Picture 1: Nursing
Picture 2: What happens when I pull the sag out :(
Picture 3: Side view
Picture 4: The hips that gave me easy deliveries
Picture 5: You can see I just fed on my left side, lol

Updated here.

7 Months PP & HATING Myself! (Sarah)

Age: 21
7 months PP
1 pregnancy

Pre-pregnancy weight: 150
Current weight: About 190

Let me start off by saying that I’ve never liked my body! Before I got pregnant I weighed 150 lbs. About a year before I was pregnant I weighed around 180 and after working as housekeeping I lost 30 lbs. When I found out I was pregnant I was scared for my body! My family has a curse, I swear!, and once us women get pregnant we seem to grow larger and larger by the years. During my pregnancy I got A LOT of stretch marks, which are still bad today. I look like I was attacked by a bear! Anyway, a little over a month before my due date I found out my blood pressure was going up. I ended up going into labor 3 weeks before my due date. The problem was preeclampsia It made since the more I got about it! I gained 10 lbs in 1 week! I remember almost crying when the doctor told me that! I stayed within the 25 lb limit during my pregnancy up until that point. Well, I ended up gaining 60 lbs when I went into labor. After the preeclampsia was gone I did lose 20 lbs the first month my daughter was born because I was so busy and tired that I had no urge to eat. Once I got use to the no sleeping I got my appetite back – which was the worst thing that could have happened!

My husband works nights and he works 7 nights straight, so it’s just me and the baby most of the time. I’m a stay at home mom so it’s very lonely! So lonely that I got bad PP depression, which made me eat away my feelings. At that point I realized how much I did not like myself! I was disgusted at looking in the mirror or putting on clothes! 4 months PP and my depression seemed to go down a lot and I stopped eating when I was bored and lonely. I lost 5 lbs Not a huge deal but it showed I was making progress! Now here I am 7 months PP and I don’t know if my depression has came back but I noticed I eat when I’m bored again! I can not break this cycle! I am soon getting my CNA and I am so excited because I know it will help me get my butt back into shape!

I wouldn’t be so hateful towards myself but I’d had several friends who have babies and they barely gained any baby weight and they lost it within 3 months. I also feel like I’ve let my husband down by not controlling myself and getting so big. Summer’s here and all I want to do is take my little girl swimming for the first time, but I’m terrified of what I’m going to wear and I’m going to be paranoid that people are staring at me. I have to find clothing that covers my stretch marks on my stomach and thighs, which is hard!

I want to learn to love myself. I hate being naked and I hate when my husband sees me naked! I’m in constant fear of my husband leaving me for a better looking women, who is real thin and has no stretch marks, that it stupidly makes me eat even more. He calls me sexy and beautiful everyday but I shrug it off. I don’t believe him. Does anyone else have this problem? How can I ignore all these thoughts in my head? I want to actually feel beautiful. I feel like I went through an amazing journey being pregnant and giving birth that I should have something to show for it besides a huge pouch!

The 3 belly photos are from now. Pregnant belly is of course during pregnancy lol & the one with the pink shirt is my pre-pregnancy weight.

Loving My Mommy Body (Raven)

My name is Raven, I am 20 years old and I have one son that is now 18 months old. I had him via cesarean section.

I had a lot happen to me after I had my son. I had just assumed since having a baby was one of the happiest and greatest things that could happen to someone that nothing in life would be bad after having a child. It did not take me long to find out how wrong I was. I love my son more than I could ever put into words but the year after having my him I suffered with such horrible depression that I didn’t even want to live anymore. It’s embarrassing admitting that and openly talking about my depression because I always fear people will view me as a bad mother but now, after everything is said and done, I am so grateful that I had to go through that. I had the choice of going on anti-depressants or changing my lifestyle which meant becoming more active and eating healthier. I had always struggled with my weight and body image so I thought why not make a change for myself instead of having to take medication. After my son’s first birthday I started eating a lot better and working out regularly and now I really do love my body. Sure, there are things I am shy to show others but overall I love everything about it. I have a pooch at the bottom of my belly because I had a big baby. My boobs are not perky any more and they are much smaller, but being able to provide my son with all the nutrients he needed with them is a fair trade. I have stretch marks all over but let’s be honest, who doesn’t have stretch marks? I have a nice big five inch scar from where my beautiful baby boy was brought into this world and guess what, I even love that too! Knowing that everything that is “wrong” with my body was caused by creating my wonderful son really allows me to embrace everything about myself and I love it.

My pictures are of me now, 18 months PP and a nice big close up of my c-sec scar and stretch marks :)

A Never-Ending Struggle (Anonymous)

Age: 20
Number of Births: 1
Child: 7 Months Old

i’ve posted before, but not on a topic as specific as this. so, no pictures this time– just a story that i’m hoping some other women can relate to. not exactly the happiest, but i’ve found that people find comfort in relating with others, regardless.

it took me weeks to figure out that something just wasn’t right after i had my son. it wasn’t him, it was myself. it was the way i was acting, my feelings, my stress levels. it just wasn’t normal. i didn’t think it was a problem until i did a little research and came to the conclusion that i might have post-partum depression. it took one morning of me feeling like i was going to snap, crying and begging my fiance to help me, to stay home from work just ONE day to give me a break, that i couldn’t take it anymore. my son had been up practically all night, he was screaming, nothing could console him. i was at the end of my rope, and he just left. nothing he’s ever done hurt me more than him doing that to me that day. i literally told him i was afraid that i was going to do something terrible, and he just left us. he told me it was because he “had a responsibility to be to work” and he “couldn’t just leave them short-staffed”. and, stupid me, here i was thinking, “you have a responsibility to protect your baby and to make sure your fiancee is OKAY.” i was not okay that morning, nor was i okay in the weeks that led up to that. he ignored it. i am still holding a grudge from that, and i’m aware of it. but as many times as i’ve tried to talk to him about it, he shuts down and just acts like it’s nothing he cares to hear. (don’t get the wrong impression of my fiance, though. he’s an amazing, loving, providing father and a good man.) so i stopped trying to talk to him about it. i made an appointment to go see my doctor that day. i got put on anti-depressants but it’s still lingering some days and there’s been times when i went without it longer than i should have…. i know now that i really do NEED those pills. it’s like i’m completely hopeless.

i don’t want to do anything some days. and by that, i mean all i want to do is just sit and do mind-numbing things like browse facebook and pinterest and watch shows. i don’t want to do laundry, i don’t want to clean the house, i don’t want to do the dishes, i don’t want to do anything productive. there’s even some days where i don’t want to interact with my son. it breaks my heart, because i know i should cherish every minute of it, but sometimes i just put a movie on and let him be. i’m so envious of the mothers who can fill their day with being super mom’s. it’s like they can do it all, with a smile on their face, and love every minute. that’s not me right now. i can barely force a smile on my face when something is funny. it’s just… fake. it’s not even a matter of me feeling sorry for myself as it is me just feeling hopeless about things.

my fiance acts like i’m doing all of this on purpose. he tells me “why don’t you make plans with your friends? why don’t you do this? why don’t you go somewhere?” i don’t want to interact with people. i have no desire. no energy. i don’t want to have to get myself ready to go anywhere. i don’t want to try and push out conversations when everything i want to say is negative and depressing. no one wants to be around someone like that. i never have a vehicle to leave the house, even if i wanted to. i don’t answer my phone 99% of the time because i don’t want to talk. even when i do try to reach out and talk to my friends, i have nothing to say. i do nothing all day, i have no news to share. i want to start working and go back to school, but i don’t want to be around anyone. a big part of that is that i gained so much weight from starting birth control, being home all winter with no way to exercise and “boredom eating”, and now my comfort and source of being not so bored is cooking and baking. it takes up time, it’s one of my hobbies, and i get to eat it after. my entertainment used to be going out, shopping, school, friends, and being too busy for much else. i literally will spend so much time some days just looking back through my old pictures and seeing how tiny i was, how beautiful and full of life i was. i was funny, i was fun, i was happy. now, i see a fat, very unhappy, very hopeless person and i just can’t see that light at the end of the tunnel. it’s not that i don’t want to, because i so desperately do, but i just don’t see a change happening in me.

i feel like i’m wasting my son’s memories (my memories of him, i mean) as a baby. i feel like i’m preventing him from learning, experiencing, and being a happy fulfilled baby because of myself. i feel like i don’t remember the past 6 months. i feel like it’s been a blur that i just slept through or got into such a routine that it became automatic and every day felt exactly the same. i feel so incredibly guilty, every day. i should be taking him outside, i should be rolling around on the floor playing with him, i should be reading to him so much every day, i should be doing so much more. i just don’t have it in me.

i don’t talk to anyone for entire days at a time. i bug my fiance at work all day asking him when he’ll be home, praying that he’ll be out earlier. i get so, so mad at him when he tells me a certain time and i practically wait at the window, watching for the car to pull in, and he doesn’t get home until two hours later because he had to stay later and didn’t tell me. instead of telling him that i’m upset because i was excited to see him, excited to have someone to talk to, i get mad at him for it because it feels so cruel to me. but he doesn’t know that i’m just desperate for adult interaction. i have no one to talk to, all day long. i have nothing to do, and it makes me feel worthless. i just wish he would understand that all i want is some support and for HIM to understand. i tell him “i wish you knew what it was like. i wish you could be in my place for a few weeks so you could understand how difficult it is. he doesn’t factor in my depression, because he acts like it’s non-existent. he gets mad and says “well i have to actually work” and makes me feel like me staying at home and mothering our child is a vacation while he’s doing all the “important” stuff. it makes me feel, again, worthless. and then when he tells me “well why don’t you get a job” in a degrading type of way, it makes me feel like i’m lazy, like i’m reliant on him for everything. but the fact is, no matter how badly i want to get back to the old me, i don’t want to be around people. it scares me. it makes me so unbelievably uncomfortable. and he doesn’t…get it. nor does he act like he cares to. it’s so hurtful to me and so frustrating and it’s the cause of so many of our fights. if he would just open up to me and TRY to understand, it would make things so much easier. i wouldn’t have to hide my feelings with anger and yelling and frustration. i could just TELL him, this is what’s wrong, and this is why. but i can’t. and it’s really making things a million times harder for me to have the one person i should be able to tell everything to not wanting to hear it. why don’t i deserve respect and support?

Resented Before He’s Even Born (Anonymous)

My age – 29
4 pregnancies, 2 early miscarriages, 1 birth, currently pregnant
Oldest son is nearly 6, currently 29 weeks pregnant

Last entry here.

I came a long way since my last submission to SOAM. Back then, I was overweight (around 75kg), pretty miserable, still caught in the throes of Post Natal Depression. In the three years after that submission, I ended my relationship with my sons father, I met the love of my life who I married, and I finally lost the baby weight. In the end, it wasn’t diet and exercise that did it – I tried that. I’d exercise 5 times a week and count every calorie that went into my mouth, and I wouldn’t lose a gram. In the end it was pure starvation that did it. The constant compliments helped, the “you’re wasting away”s and “you look great”s drove me to eat less and less. I’d never felt so thin, or so good. Eventually, my eating returned to normal, and my weight fortunately stabilised at 58kg (I’m 5’3”), I felt I’d won the battle.

I had never thought I would have another baby. After giving birth to a screamer who never slept, developing the PND that nearly killed us both, and never expecting to meet anyone let alone someone who was father material, I’d all but ruled it out. When my husband came along, everything changed. He is a wonderful man, selfless and considerate, the best step father I could have ever hoped for for my son, the best husband I ever could have asked for. We started TTC in May 2010, and got our BFP in July.

Within weeks, I’d already gained back most of what I’d lost. At 29 weeks pregnant, I have gained more than 20kg over my lowest weight, tipping the scales at 79kg. I look in the mirror, and I am repulsed by what I see. In what is meant to be a wonderful time, I am resentful. Resentful of the baby who is causing this weight gain, resentful of myself for not being able to control it, resentful of my husband for wanting to have a baby in the first place. This baby moves inside me and I want to scream at it. Every time I step on the scale and see I have gained, it leaves me devastated. I walk around 20km a week as we don’t have a car, I drink 2 litres of water a day, I have an active lifestyle. I don’t eat huge meals or binge, I eat well made home cooked meals, fresh fruits and veges and whole grains. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. This baby and pregnancy feel like a punishment rather than something to be celebrated.

Every other woman out there seems to be gaining normal amounts, the worst part is reading women on internet forums complaining they haven’t gained a thing. I seem to be the only one who is struggling. My pregnant friends are positively svelte compared to me. Every pregnant woman I pass on the street looks like she stepped out of a magazine. I’m beyond devastated by how things have turned out, and my biggest worry is that this baby will be born and won’t be worth it. I’ll get another screamer. Another baby I will resent. More PND. My heart says “it’s pregnancy! enjoy it! love yourself!” but with every weigh in my mind says no, and every thing I put it my mouth fills me with guilt. Every kick pushes me deeper into resentment.

Photos – after meeting my husband but before getting pregnant; 28 weeks pregnant

Postpartum Psychosis Survivor (Pinay Mom NYC)

Hearing things that weren’t there was bad; keeping silent about it was worse.

For months after my daughter was born via C-section, I felt miserable and pathetic. I had been so independent prior to giving birth at 31; then I saw myself as this needy, ugly thing, financially dependent on a husband who was suffering through his own depression. I feared he didn’t love me. With my family 3000 miles away, I watched the laundry and dishes pile up. Worst of all, I heard things.

Not voices, per se, but laughter–a quiet, but biting mocking laughter that seemed to arise whenever I was tired, alone, and trying to breastfeed my baby. I also sensed a hand pressing down on top of my head, as if trying to break in through my skull. I’d scream, waking my baby and alerting my husband to something terribly wrong. Eventually, I told him. A neuroscientist by training, he was familiar with what was happening to me and assured me that I wasn’t “crazy.” I did some internet research and found that I was experiencing post-partum psychosis. Well, great, I thought. Now let me get back to adjusting to motherhood, thank you very much.

Only the adjustment to this new role, this new body–this new life–still shook the very core of my sanity. And I kept trudging through, silently. I loved my daughter. I hated my life.

When she was 10 months old, I tried to kill myself using the unused painkiller meds prescribed for me after my C-section. A fight with my husband triggered off what I had been quietly plotting to do for months. I swallowed four pills before he wrested the remaining meds out of my hand and flushed them down the toilet. We talked throughout the night. I decided to seek professional help. I decided to live.

Searching for a care-provider that took my insurance was humiliating. The bureaucratic run-around and telephone-tag belittled my condition, making me feel even more guilt and shame for my experience. Did no one realize that post-partum depression with psychosis required immediate medical attention? I went to the one place that could definitely spot a life-threatening condition when they saw one. I checked into the ER with a simple note: I am going to kill myself. That was the beginning.

It’s been 9 months since I voluntarily committed myself for a three-day stay as a psychiatric patient in the very same hospital in which I had given birth. 9 months of reflecting, re-prioritzing, and cleaning-up. 9 months of getting to know my daughter and getting re-acquainted with my husband and myself. The last 40 weeks haven’t always been easy. But they’ve helped me to acknowledge and accept my husband’s love, and to nurture my family, my career and my needs–no matter how difficult. I love my daughter. I love my life.

I urge everyone out there to question why the physical and psychological toll of motherhood should bring about so much shame, so much silence. It needn’t be this way. Stigma and silencing are often just symptoms of ignorance. Most people don’t recognize that we mothers can love and adore our children and still feel intense pain transitioning into our new lives. Transition can be brutal. But what hurt me and my family more was keeping quiet about it until it was almost too late. Who benefits from maintaining the stigma–the ignorance–around post-partum psychosis? What false ideas of motherhood does this stigma uphold? If people took seriously the personal and medical havoc brought on by motherhood, imagine how we might change maternity policies, healthcare, career-planning—our idea of womanhood, itself.

My daughter is napping in my arms as I write this. Soon she will wake, and the silence will be over. I can only hope.

Thank you for reading.

pic 1: Me a couple months before my 30th birthday, and about 8 months before getting pregnant.
pic 2: A week before giving birth.
pic 3: I took-up pole-dancing as a way to reclaim my body. Here I am attempting a (flawed) outside leg-hook, 15 months post-partum.
pic 4: My little monkey!

~Age: 32
~Number of pregnancies and births: 3 pregnancies, 1 birth
~The age of your children, or how far postpartum you are: 1 daughter, 19 months

I want myself back. (Anonymous)

I have a gorgeous 16 month old son. I am 21, myself. I feel terrible about my body. I don’t feel like the same person, I literally look at pictures of myself before giving birth and think to myself how I miss that very faraway strange person. it never leaves my mind. If I am alone and undistracted to long I think of ending it all. Its not just my saggy breasts, my watermelon striped jelly belly but my new vagina. Its horrific. I never queefed before. I feel like a bug could crawl up there. Sex is exponentially less good, sometimes painful. The doc says im normal. I had no tearing. The “normal” part makes me feel so much worse like I’m supposed to accept it, and as if everyone else already has accepted for me the fact I am a mom now and nothing else, much less someone who should care about sex or have good sex. I never had given mom sexuality much thought, especialy with so many celebrity births but now I feel like “Oh duh! being a mom is the precursor to being old! to having a not tight pussy! to no longer being first choice!” I feel all used up. I thought when people say stuff like “Oh you look great for having kids” they meant oh you lost weight. So what? who cares about weight when you have puckered, sagging, marked up skin, floppy breasts and a weird looking loose pussy?! I feel violated and robbed in ways I didn’t know were possible.

Id really like to thank you for creating this website I was thinking of doing something similar but not as positve when I ran across Shape of a Mother. I am in therapy for PPD. Rx drugs seem to numb me at best. Looking through your site has been my first flicker of real hope and break from intense aloneness and feelings of worthlessness. I know I have a looong way to go and am still looking into LVR and cosmetic procedures but the world seems allot less foreboding now. I saw other women saying the same thing I was thinking upon finding The Shape of a Mother, Id never feel so negative towards another woman in my position.