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Bonnie, I think it’s so wonderful what you’re doing on your Shape of a Mother website. I wish you enormous success with it – I’m telling my friends to go see it. My single MALE friends.

I’ve looked at all the photos on this website. I think I fall somewhere in the middle as far as the “bounce-back” goes, a couple of the photos made me pout with envy but mostly I just felt an amazing kinship with all the other bared bellies. I barely remember what my stomach looked like before I had kids. I saw a “belly shot” of myself at five months pregnant with OldestKid, and I laughed my butt off. My stomach was flatter in that picture than it is today, almost twenty-three months after YoungestKid was born. No stretch marks yet, either. It made me whimper just a little.

I don’t mind the belly itself so much. The stretchmarks – I don’t even think about them anymore. I got them on my stomach, my breasts, my thighs. They aren’t that bad, they’re basically flesh toned, and at this point they just happen to be a part of me, like my brown eyes or my short fingers or my fantastic legs. The love-handles (love handles, for pete’s sake!), the skin- sag, the pretty much completely horrifying scrotal-foldover when I bend down … those make me feel indignant. They are not supposed to be there! I mean, maybe they’re supposed to be there, but probably just for other women and NOT me – the fact that I have them was obviously a total oversight on nature’s part. I still have my linnea negra, too, at twenty-three months post-partum, but I just think that’s cute. What’s the deal with my belly button changing shape, though? That’s not cute or hateful, it’s just weird. One thing I do love about my post-partum body is my newly aquired butt – it’s not a lot, but it’s more than I used to have and hey! It doesn’t hurt to sit down anymore.

All that stuff can pretty much be covered up by a properly fitting pair of pants and a shirt that’s an appropriate length. Not such a big deal – except the part where I’m a single mom now and have been in a couple of relationships by this point. The first time I was naked in front of a man besides my ex-husband, I actually apologized. For my own body. I shook, I blushed, I said, “I’m sorry… I had kids.” He was beautiful, he said, “Don’t you ever act ashamed in front of me. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He kissed my belly. He kissed my stretch marks. A funny thing happened when I found a man who really cared about me, who insisted I was beautiful and insisted I believe it too – I became pretty comfortably with my body. Believe me, indignant is a good step up from out-and-out loathing. I find it ironic that I was always so ashamed of my postpartum body in front of my husband, who knew and loved my body before and after I bore his children, and now I don’t think twice about wearing a bikini. An actual bikini! In front of people!

I remember a few years ago when a truly beautiful friend of yours and mine got her belly button pierced, after having two kids, and I was horrified at the very thought of lifting my shirt and showing a complete stranger my belly in all it’s striped, saggy glory. “I would NEVER be able to do that,” I gasped. I’d had it done when I was sixteen, but that was when my tummy was CUTE. Three months ago, with three of my (single, male) friends looking on, I lifted my shirt and got my navel re-pierced by a (single, male, utterly edible) total stranger. It hurt for a split-second, but what I felt more than the pain was a sense of vindication. I won’t find my body shameful anymore.

Keep up the good work, Bonnie. I am so proud of you – of all of us – of mothers. Here’s me NOT sucking in (I usually do, though, in the spirit of complete honesty).

(My ethnic pride belly button ring, haha.)

I had my first child 6 years ago next week, the pregnancy, labour and baby days were all text book and perfect, I felt like the luckiest woman alive. Before getting pregnant I was a fairly standard UK size 12 – 14, larger hips than bust but a reasonably flat stomach and shapely waist. When pregnant I was HUGE. From around 6 months people would ask me how many days I had left. I didn’t put much weight on anywhere other than my stomach, it looked as though I’d shoved a beachball up my top! I wish I had a digitial pic of that but I don’t. Brooke was born on August 10th 2000, 2 weeks early, and weighed in at 7 pounds 11.

After this, my body never quite recovered. I didn’t think too much about it but I hated my stretchmarks with a passion and although I longed for my flat stomach back I didn’t really do much about it. Over the next couple of years I got back to pretty much my pre pregnancy dress size and weight although I never got rid of my stomach. My stretchmarks gradually faded with time and it was only when I was pregnant with my 2nd child 3.5 years later that they came back with a vengeance. Suddenly they looked red and angry again and I remembered how much I disliked them.

The 2nd pregnancy and labour were as perfect as the first except this time around I got bigger much much quicker. By 5 months I looked as though I was about to drop at any time and this is how I looked at 35 weeks, yes I got bigger than that. I was gigantic!

Cameron was born on his due date, 11th august 2004, and the 2nd time around I knew that if I was going to stand any chance of losing the weight and the stomach that I would have to make an effort. Typically I didn’t make any kind of effort, no gym or diet and 2 years later this is how my stomach looks.

Its not great but it doesn’t look as bad here as I think it does. I’m shocked at how much my stretchmarks have faded and although in my head they are still ugly great angry marks they really don’t look that bad here. The side view is a little worse, I really need to lose that pot belly but that is all down to being a little lazy and just not bothered enough about it to do anything.

I have loved reading the stories of everyone here and seeing everyone’s photos. In my experience other women can be so mean about the way they expect you to look, men are a lot more accepting of a changed figure after childbirth. I think its brilliant to read the support and kindness here shown from women to other women, makes me feel all warm in side.

Kerrie
https://www.kerriesplace.co.uk/weblog

hands
Originally uploaded by faerieface.

Browsing our Flickr Group, I came across this photo and wanted to share. It’s my new favorite!

If you haven’t yet seen the discussion over there titled “Fun Stuff” check it out, and let me know what you think!

This is a beautiful site, and I am so glad to have found it. I have been wrestling lately with the state of my body, but until I read some of these posts, I didn’t realize how much…

I seem only to know people who came through pregnancy with no stretch marks, no funky tissue-paper skin, and no extra weight.

I had a dreamy, picture-perfect pregnancy. I worked up until the week before our twins were born (by c-section after 24 hours of labour) in April of 2004. I gained exactly 50 lbs during pregnancy, and lost 60 when they were born.

After our babes were born, I noticed that the muscles in my stomach had separated down the middle, so I had a 2″ gap (that the extra skin would sag into when I lay down– wish I had a picture of that!!!) to go with the big pouch of skin that sill held the shape of two babies.

Since then, I have gained 25 lbs, mostly due to the amount of time I spend playing on the floor and reading book after book after book…or the fact that I generally forget to eat until 8 pm, when the kids go to sleep.

At any rate, these added roles of flesh are just not comfortable. While I don’t really notice the saggy belly, and the “mommy-body” doesn’t even register when I am home with my kids (except when my son sinks his chubby fingers into my bellyskin and giggles), I am not comfortable wearing anything other than stretchpants and loose shirts. I don’t recognize this body in work clothes or dress clothes, or in any capacity when I catch sight of myself in a store window or mirror. And there are moments when just that sight of myself makes me sad and uncomfortable, or feel that somehow I am less worthy of love than my skinny-mother-counterparts. And then there are those moments after when I kick myself, and thank the powers that be for the blessing that is my life.

This is just one more part of the journey– I want to enjoy it!

I came across this website nearly a week ago and I must say, I am very proud of you that you not only focus on one body type after pregnancy. So many times I go to webpages and find that it is only focused at women who compleatly bounce back after pregnancy, or the complete opposite. Sites which feature only overweight women. I am glad you find it necessary to spotlight both. Now, I found out I was pregnant May 7th, 2005. I didn’t know weather to be excited or scared to death. See, I was married the day before. When I told my husband, he was excited. So I let myself get that way too. When I was ten weeks, I began to bleed, and went to the emergency room. I was told the baby was fine. I continued to bleed until 18 weeks along. Then, for no reason: it stopped. I had a very rough pregnancy to start with. Bleeding, severe morning sickness that resulted in losing a large amount of weight. I had to be hospitalized and pumped full of fluids via IV. I also had reoccuring kindney infections. I was put in the hospital at 28 weeks because of my kindneys, they were causing me to go into preterm labor. It was very scary for my husband and I. We didn’t want to loose or little girl. I went into labor on Dec.31, 2005. I was in labor nearly 21 hours when the doctors decided I wasn’t progressing, I was only 4cm dialated, so we proceeded with a csection. I remember hearing my little girl cry out. I was estatic! Mackenzie Grace-Louann was born weighing 8lbs 8.2oz and 20.25″ long. Not long after my delivery, I began having horrible pains in my upper abdomen, off again to emergency room. Come to find out, it is my gallbladder. On May 2nd of 2006, I had to have it removed. Now not only did i have stretch marks and wrinkely skin but a csection scar and now three more from this surgery. I was very small prepregnancy, weighing around 115lbs, I gained thirty pounds during my pregnancy. I have suffered my entire life with eating disorders, but kept it under control and got help during my pregnancy so this weight was very hard for me to handle. I am glad to say I have lost all of my baby weight and my little girl is nearly 7 months old. I did it right, not the old ways I use to do. I am still sad that I have my stretch marks and saggy skin, I wish that I could be like some of the women on here who are proud of them. I wish I had that self esteem. I am envious of those who can accept their bodies, as I cannot. Believe me, I am so greatful for my little girl and would do it all over again times ten. Thank you for this webpage. It is truly inspiring.

My legs are in better shape than they’ve ever been thanks to months and months – nearly a year – of bouncing my daughter to sleep on a birth ball, but note the stretch marks. They made their appearance while I was on bedrest during my pregnancy. Stretch marks and pregnancy pretty much go hand in hand, and I expected to get them on my belly, my hips, perhaps even my breasts… (and I did!) but my calf?! It just wasn’t fair. My breasts and belly and hips stay pretty much covered up, but having my calf stretch marked – and not both calves, oh no, couldn’t be symmetrical about it or anything, just my right calf – was a real bummer. No more shorts or skirts, I would moan.

I want to embrace them. I want to see them as battle scars, or badges of merit, but I’m not having much luck with it yet. I was twenty when I got pregnant and I’m still morning the loss of my young, slender body. My belly is still pretty soggy and stretchmarked, resembling bread dough, but it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as my leg.

Here is the aforementioned calf:

And I’d also like to share a picture I love, of my belly taken at twenty weeks, on my honeymoon in Cozumel:

Hi there! I’m 30 years old and the mother of two (3yr-old son, 10month-old daughter). I can’t remember a time when I didn’t struggle with my weight. I’ll spare you the details of a my childhood and report that puberty helped. I lost what I then called “baby fat,” grew into my medium build, 5’6” body, and stayed at a reasonable weight, fluctuating between 140 and 150 pounds.

When I got pregnant with my first I swore I wouldn’t gain more than the average 30 pounds. Moreover, I wasn’t going to get stretch marks and applied every type of lotion imaginable to my expanding belly. You’re smiling because you know the whole lot of nothing that did for me. As my son grew, the more my belly looked like a freshly chopped tree trunk with stretch marks expanding outward in perfect circles.

Right before my son was born I tipped the scales at 201 pounds. He was 9 lbs, 7 oz, and I lost 20 pounds within the first month. The extra weight hung around for well over a year. I had just got back down to the nice weight of 147lbs when I got pregnant again.

Unfortunately I don’t have any belly pictures of baby #2. My son stretched me out so well that I didn’t get any new marks with my daughter, but my breasts swelled after the third month. I gained 50 pounds the second time around and my daughter weighed 9 lbs 5oz at birth (I make ’em big). Again, the weight did not want to come off. By the time my daughter was 5 months I weighed 168 pounds, and the scale refused to budge. Not only that, but walking around with inflated breasts for 6 months and then deciding not to breast feed meant that my boobs shrunk from ample Ds to no longer perky Bs.

I love, love, love my children but I was seriously hating my body. Luckily, I resumed an active schedule and went back to school. The stress of school combined with caring for two kids meant some weight loss. Later, a personal hardship melted twenty pounds in a few months, but I still missed the firm, smooth skin of my youth. I missed my once perfect belly button. I wasn’t too happy with the sagging boobs either. Then I found Shape of a Mother and was blown away. Not only wasn’t I alone struggling with body after baby, but I realized our post-baby bodies are beautiful. We’re mothers, there are no beings on earth tougher than us. Why did I look at what happened to my body with such a disapproving eye? I earned those marks. I earned those scars (the kind you don’t want to see). Thank you for creating this forum and thank you to all the amazing women who’ve posted their stories and photos. Rock on moms!

Here I am today: 138 pounds and 10 months after baby #2. I’m taking things one day at a time. Who cares about having a perfect body anymore? Not me! (I’m happy if I have time to brush my hair.) I’m happy with the body that bore two really great kids.

I’m so excited to discover I was linked from Hathor the Cow Goddess! I’ve always loved these cartoons. Go check it out!

(P.S. sorry there have not been any entries today, I have not been able to upload pictures, or even access the site, at all today. If I don’t get to it tonight, look for more in the morning!)

I found this site 2 weeks ago, and since then Ive been in awe of the women who have chosen to tell their stories and show us their pictures. Im honored to be included in this site, along with you amazing women!

My husband I were married in 2003 and immediately started trying to conceive, never guessing that we would have problems. After 18 months of heartbreaking infertility, we finally conceived our daughter with the help of Clomid. Emma Grace was conceived 2 days before my 25th birthday, and born 3 days before my husbands 25th birthday, and she was the best birthday present either of us have ever received.

As soon as we found out we were pregnant I knew that I wanted to have a med free, natural labor and delivery and we chose a wonderful midwife named Nina who was supportive of our plans. My husband and I studied Hypnobirthing at home and practiced the relaxation techniques nightly and looked forward to using them during my labor and delivery.

On the eve of my due date we went to the hospital and I was induced. I labored med free for 7 hours, using Hypnobirthing and having a wonderful labor experience. Unbeknownst to me, my daughters heart rate was dropping steadily with each contraction and it soon became clear that we needed to get her out. I was prepped for a C-section and at a little past 2am our daughter Emma was born. As I heard her cry for the first time my tears started flowing as well (the first tears of our labor and delivery experience for both Mommy and Baby!). I kept looking up at the surgical curtain, waiting to see her beautiful face, but the doctor just whisked her away to the warmer without showing her to me. Ive always regretted that I was the last person in the room to see the little miracle that grew within me.

A few weeks after we got home I began to experience symptoms of depression, and breastfeeding became a nightmare. My nipples were cracked and bleeding, and nursing my daughter made me cry in pain, yet we struggled through the pain (and mastitis with a 102 degree fever) and continue to breastfeed today. I struggled (and continue to struggle) with disappointment about having to have a c-section, and spun into a severe depression that lasted for almost 8 months. I finally took steps to get better (Im taking Zoloft and am seeing a therapist) and am feeling better than I have in years! Im now able to cope with my feelings of loss and disappointment, as well as the feelings of inadequacy I had after my daughter was born.

I have finally come to terms with the fact that a lot of my depression revolved around my feeling like less of a woman due to the problems I had getting pregnant, giving birth, and breastfeeding. Although absolutely false, for awhile I believed that I was inferior to those who could get pregnant so easily and have a natural, vaginal birth, and those to whom breastfeeding came so easily. Its been difficult for me to accept my body when it seems like my body has failed me numerous times in doing the things that are supposed to come naturally to women. However, I have never been uncomfortable with the physical changes that have occurred from carrying my sweet baby girl. When I was pregnant I adored my curves and even did a belly cast of my 8 ? month pregnant tummy, and I wore clothing to accentuate my round belly. I gained about 30 pounds during my pregnancy and lost it all by 2 months PP. The weight seems to be distributed differently now, though, and my belly is not as firm as it once was, but I have no problems with that. I do, however, have a lot of stretch marks that literally popped up overnight during my 8th and 9th months of pregnancy (and up until then I thought Id get away without having any!). I was uncomfortable with them for a long while, but I never hated them the way I hated my incision scar from the c-section. In my mind, the scar was a reminder of all the ways I failed, and its only been in the last 2 or 3 months that Ive learned to accept the scar as a battle wound of all the things I went through to have my daughter.

My stretch marks and my scar are tattoos eternally marking my passage into motherhood, and I am proud of them. They remind me that I have carried a child within me, and that I survived a traumatizing event and the depression afterwards. Most of all, these marks upon my belly serve to remind me that my body has overcome a lot of physical and emotional changes, and that there is no way I have failed in any capacity. My sweet Emma is living proof of my achievements, and Im so proud that I have brought this wonderful being into existence

Here is my belly, approximately 5 months pregnant. I often played Enyas May It Be to my daughter in the womb, because her Daddy called her his little promise. (The lyrics are A promise lives within you now, and Emma truly was our little promise!

Here I am, 8 months pregnant, loving my belly!

My husband kissing his girls. He loved my growing belly and couldnt keep his hands and lips! off of it!

8 months pp, my belly complete with stretch marks and a scar, which I wear proudly!

THE SHAPE OF A MOTHER NOT CARRYING HER OWN CHILD

As I read all these beautiful posts I cannot help but feel a tad envious of all the wonderful shapes and sizes that your bodies have taken to on your journies to motherhood. Allow me to explain:

My body is irrevocably broken. It will not do what is the most natural and fundamental things of being a woman; that would be conceiving and carrying a child.

For as long as my memory will allow I dreamed of being a mother. We have endured endless years of emotional, physical and financial ravage to attain this dream. We did six cycles of inseminations and 8 full cycles of IVF and countless tests and bloodwork to be told there was no definitive diagnosis. I am an anomaly. No know cause. What? We were continually faced with disappointment and losses. I am and continue to be angry with own body for its failure. Perhaps that will never go away. I am learning to live with it.

The darkest day was when my doctor summoned up the courage to tell me that I would not be carrying my own children. Imagine for a second hearing that. What would you say, what would you do? I was crushed. I woke many nights knowing that I would never feel life moving inside my womb. That I would never share that intimate experience with my husband. I longed for him to be able to place his hands on my swelling belly to feel our child coming to life. To watch my body change, stretch and grow as it nutured the life within. I wanted to be able to tell my children what it was like when they were “in Mommy’s tummy”. The world became a painful place as it seemed that everywhere I looked EVERYONE was pregnant.

I had to make some real changes in my thinking because I did not want to live within my own skin as a bitter, jealous, hurt person. The tide began to turn. I turned to my family and friends for support rather than keeping all these awful feeling bottled up.

I have learned as I age that women are very resilient and strong. My admiration for all of you who endure pregnancy and motherhood is endless. I have come to appreciate the wisdom and joy of my girlfriends, mothers or not.

Then a miracle happened.

A girlfriend, who shared in the pain of my trevails, offered to carry a child for us. She was young, had two successful and uneventful preganancies. This friend of mine was adopted at birth by a wonderful family and her life was full. She felt that by carrying this child it would be her way to “give-back” for all of her good luck. Her husband and children were fully supportive of her decision. After the shock of her offer wore off, we made the decision to try it.

I waited in angst to see if it would work. We transferred my eggs and my husbands sperm into my friend rather than into my doomed uterus. The first try gave us a chemical pregnancy. My heartbreak continued. I was beginning to tell myself that I was being sent a strong message that I was not worthy of or meant to be a mother. We tried again. This time it worked. I lived every single day waiting for the other shoe to drop. I worried endlessly because someone else was now carrying my heart in their body. I had no control. It is still very diffcult to put into words all of the varying emotions. I wanted to be velcroed to her back but I took great caution not to interfere to much. She had to have her life.

We found out that we were to be blessed with twins and later that it would be twin girls. My heart swelled as my belly should have. I watched my friends belly grow to enormous proportions. What an extraordinary thing to watch an elbow protrude or hiccups bounce. I felt and still feel the most intense gratitude to her for a gift that could never be repaid but I still wrestled with the raw emotion of jealousy that these children were not within me.

Our babies arrived, healthy and safe. They are everything I hoped and dreamed of. My bitterness toward my own body has morphed into an intense and powerful love for these two innocent little children.

I am proud to be part of this sorority called motherhood albeit taking a winding path to get there.

What a beautiful site. Thank you to all the ladies who bared their souls and photos. Thank you for letting me share my journey.