An Ode To The New Mom

I’ve been struggling since new motherhood. I thought it would be easy. Well- I mean I knew it would be challenging and there would be change (especially when two little humans enter into your life), but I never saw my other struggles arise. Maybe if I had had a vaginal delivery things might be turned-out differently? I’m not sure. It’s funny how we always seem to want to go backwards and change things (in reality- we can’t). It seems like everyone loves their scars from motherhood and is always preaching about it. Well, I’m here to say that- I have not yet come to terms with loving my c-section scar. I wish that it was in a different place and believe that it will never lay flat because of how it was closed (and also believe that there are some endometrial tissue in there that creates the ‘mom pooch’). I initially tried (in those first few months) to love it and don’t get me wrong- I am so grateful for the doctors who saved my daughters’ lives and my life by doing the stat c-section, but I think it’s challenging to see it everyday. It’s less of a reminder of the beautiful outcomes that came from it and more of a reminder of the trauma that I endured. Maybe that’s selfish and maybe I’m cynical for thinking this way and maybe I’ll feel differently when I’m farther removed from the birth, but this is still where we’re at. Which brings me to my main point of this post.

What started as me loving and being grateful for my body, I found myself nit-picking every flaw about it. My butt looked big, my hips are wider, none of my clothes fit right anymore, I could never imagine wearing any sort of swimsuit that wasn’t high-waisted, and then we got a scale and I was brought right back into my obsession with dieting and weight that I struggled with throughout college. What slowly began as watching the numbers decrease down as I began running more and getting back my fitness, morphed into me obsessively checking my weight in the morning, after a run when I knew I sweated out an extra pound or two. I knew in the back of my mind that this isn’t healthy, but I continued to spiral. I would look in the mirror and see nothing but flaws. I wasn’t reminded of all that I’ve gone through and accomplished, I was just reminded of everything that I thought I wasn’t.

It wasn’t until recently when I began reading Lauren Fleshman’s book Good For A Girl, that I realized that someone else out there felt the same way as me. I only thought that I was an anomaly thinking these thoughts when I looked in the mirror, but alas! she somehow felt the same way too (in a different season of life of course). It was refreshing and it finally made me realize that I am so much more than a number on the scale or the small pooch that is a remnant of the war that me and the girls went through. Maybe those who have gone through traumatic surgeries feel the same way about their scars. I’m certain there is a small amount of grieving process that is involved with accepting your scar, but I think it’s also challenging for new moms (no matter how you delivered). Social media and the entertainment industry, I believe, played a huge part in my struggles with body image and scales. Running has always made me feel better (even postpartum). I’ve never felt stronger or more confident than I do when I’m crushing a race or workout. It’s taken me a long time to find the fire in my belly to compete and run hard (especially over longer distance races and there’s still so much more that I have to give) and I’ve slowly started to apply that confidence into other aspects of my life (thank you to my amazing therapist).

So, I decided that I had enough with the terrible thoughts when looking in the mirror or at the scale. I ditched the scale and when I get dressed- rather than looking in the mirror (which inevitably brings about negative thoughts), I ask myself how do I feel. If I don’t feel good- I change. I also acknowledge that different parts of my cycle I might feel more puffy and that’s normal. The biggest reason for my mental shift? I don’t want my girls to grow-up to seeing their mom continually second-guess herself. I want them to love their bodies (because I love them so much!) and experience life to the fullest. So, all this is to say that new moms- it’s ok if you’re struggling. I see you. I feel you. I was totally there too and dang, you’re doing a great job.