Thursday, January 13, 2011

“At least you can get them up!”

So, you’ve accepted the fact that life will be different now that you will be returning to work. The tears have moved from that reality to the reality of your new body. Granted, you’ve been thinking about this new body of yours since the moment you saw the positive sign, but it was easier to deal with when your baby was growing inside of you or when you were told, “you look great” as each person looked right through you into the face of your precious newborn.
You’ve been living in yoga pants, sports bras, nursing tanks, and jogging pants. Work starts in a few days…what are you going to wear?
Of course you figure you can slap on those pants you were wearing at about 8 weeks pregnant and go…and then you realize that the yoga pants you’ve been living in have disillusioned you on what a pair of pants is, let alone your true size.
For me, I pulled out about three pairs of pants thinking that surely they’d fit…they might be a little snug, but they’d do. I began by looking in the bathroom mirror, turning to the side, sucking in my gut, spinning around a few times, holding the pants up, and eventually and reluctantly placing my left leg in first.  My husband, sitting on the toilet, watched me. I then placed my right leg in. Great…they’re both in.  A little pull on the left, now on the right…jump, jump, pull. I say a little prayer to God and I attempt to button them, but the 6-inch separation between the button and the buttonhole proves even too much for God!! I glance at my husband with a defeated look. In an effort to make me feel better he says, “At least you can get them up!”
Oh, this new body of mine. I hate you and love you at the same time. I hate you because I again have to figure out what looks good on me. I hate you because my breasts go from supermodel to granny 6 times throughout the day and my nipples feel like they’re going to fall off. I hate you because I now understand the appeal of “mom jeans.”
fsl;dfkjas;dlfkasjdf;lskdf – that is my daughter grabbing the keyboard as I write….she reminds me of why I also love you,  oh body of mine.
I love you because the markings I now bear show the signs of a precious and unique gift sent from above. I love you because I am a mother and you helped me get there. I love you because it was worth it. I love you because…why shouldn’t I?
The unrealistic idea perpetuated by our society/media that we should look a certain way or have the body Heidi Klum had after giving birth is preposterous. Yet, we all buy into it. WHY? Let’s stop buying into it. Let’s embrace the 6-inch separation between our buttons and buttonholes and love the battle wounds of motherhood. We are mothers. Without us, the world would be nothing!! Without our guts, how would Weight Watchers survive and employ so many? We’re actually supporting the economy. So here’s to stretch marks, incision scars, muffin tops, and to just being able to “get them up!”  

PS To those of you who are adoptive mothers, your body may not bear the physical marks of pregnancy, but I know your soul does. You’ve experienced labor pains, trials, tears, hormones, and the sadness of leaving your little one as you head off to work…just as much as any mom who had the opportunity to carry her baby.


  1. I love this...these thoughts can apply even to women who are not mothers....who bear the stress of a world that screams "thin is in". What a great message from a person of extreme beauty. You are beautiful because of your words, character, personality, Godliness AND your hot body! I love you!

  2. I've embraced, maybe too much! Since I do stay home with my kids I find that I've let myself go perhaps more than I should. I can't seem to find the time to workout(or take showers half the time!)! I'm also an emotional eater, so if it's been a hard parenting day I tend to find myself in the kitchen. Because I am at home, I often don't wear makeup, don't do my hair, and have lounge clothes on. After a funny conversation with my son, I've tried to look good daily which means sucking in the 12 inch gap between button and buttonhole, putting on makeup, and doing my hair. Apparently he thought I only showered on Sunday's...I guess that's the only time I look good!

  3. If I hear, "9 months on, 9 months off," one more time...