I Hate This Part.
You know the part where we play pretend…
The part where we pretend that everything is okay, the part where we pretend that we’re not scared about what’s going on in our world and how we’re going to protect our babies, the part where we pretend that it doesn’t feel like motherhood is drowning us, the part where we pretend that we’re really confident in ourselves, and unbothered by the pencil thin with a big booty moms of multiples on Instagram…
Yeah, that part. I hate it.
I’m now in month three of my postpartum journey, and if there is anything I can tell you about postpartum it’s that it’s not one size fits all…and I mean that literally. As my motherhood expedition continues to unfold, I’m learning more and more about the things I’m no longer wishing to “fit” into or put on anymore––one of them being not “fitting” into my pre-baby body.
I’m not sure when it happened, but some time within the last few weeks, I’ve started becoming super hard on my postpartum body.
Sis, you mean the body that JUST gave birth to a whole baby three months ago?
Yep! I know. Crazy, right?! But it’s true.
I’ve found myself becoming more nit-picky of my stomach––especially when I’m shirtless while breastfeeding my baby and my loose-stretch-marked up skin hangs. One morning, I was actually disgusted with myself––as if the stomach underneath that skin didn’t serve as a beautiful, safe, warm and nourishing home that carried my beautiful daughter for nine months.
How? How could I be disgusted by these battle scars and this new skin when I got them in such a beautiful way?
What made me think that, three-months postpartum, I had to be back to my pre-baby weight and size? What made me think that this three-month postpartum body was anything other than beautiful? What made me think that this three-month postpartum body wasn’t good enough?
Sis, you mean that three-month postpartum body that’s still actively breastfeeding and pumping––be it in the car or while on your honeymoon with your husband?
Yep! That three-month postpartum body.
A few days after Nova was born, we met with a lactation coach for some tips on helping her latch better. When the coach was wrapping up our meeting, I recall her saying to me, “If you’re worried about snapping back, breastfeeding will definitely help you out a lot with that.” I immediately responded back to her, “I’m not worried,” (at the time I wasn’t) as my husband shook his head in agreement with me. Now, don’t get me wrong: I know she meant well and was trying to help in the case that I was actually concerned with “snapping back,” but can I say how TOXIC it is for us to mention any terminology close to “snapping back” or losing pregnancy weight within the first year of a woman delivering a baby…LET ALONE LESS THAN A WEEK!?
I’m all for championing mamas to be healthy and exercise to keep their bodies up to par to deal with the labor of motherhood (because chile, the amount of times I run up and down these daggone stairs of this three-story townhouse every day; I should be able to run a 5K––not walk, run), but when championing health and exercise turns into obliging to and succumbing to a trivial and noxious social media culture, something is wrong!
It’s so wrong…but think of how often we partake in such toxic rhetoric and culture in even the most basic of ways. We praise women for fitting back into their pre-baby jeans after delivering just weeks before as if losing the baby weight is the real badge of honor instead of being a holistically healthy new mama.
We tell women to wear waist trainers opposed to belly binders, which are clutch for making sure your organs return back to their rightful place post-baby. We market “toners” to help fade stretch marks that don’t really do anything besides burn and bleach our skin. We sell flat tummy teas and all this other crap that claim to help women lose weight––unhealthily––in just days. We do all of this––basically telling women that after carrying a whole freaking human, their bodies didn’t do a good enough job by not snapping back to a size zero in a short amount of time.
And it’s just TOXIC.
Toxic to the body, toxic to the spirit, toxic to the soul, toxic to the mind.
After having that brief moment of disgust with my new jelly belly, as mentioned earlier, I shrugged it off and went about my day. But, then, I had another moment of disgust this morning, which ultimately led me to telling my husband that he needed to take the baby because I needed to workout. While we were negotiating our trade-off with Nova, I looked at myself discouraged in our bedroom mirror and said out loud, “If I could just lose my stomach, I’ll be good.” Neil instantly countered those sentiments with, “Nicole, stop it! You just had a baby.” In the moment, I ignored him and quickly changed into my workout clothes so I could work on “snapping back.”
Then, while trying to figure out what I wanted to write about for this month’s blog post, it hit me: Neil’s right––I just had a baby. Not five years ago, not even five-months ago…three-months ago, this woman in this body delivered a baby. And this woman in this body that delivered that baby deserves grace.
She deserves kindness from herself.
She deserves patience from herself.
She deserves gentleness from herself.
She deserves praise from herself.
Thankfully, it only took me a few weeks to come to this now beloved epiphany, but think about how much longer it takes other mamas.
Now think about how much longer it takes women in general…
Women––who may not have had a baby, but have struggled with their weight and health their whole lives––are fighting for their lives to “snap into” whatever size and “snap down” to whatever weight a doctor says they’re supposed to be, in order to be labeled “healthy.”
Now, think about how much harder it is for women who have health issues like PCOS, Hypothyroidism, and Depression that make weight-loss almost impenetrable.
Yet, all they’re being fed is lose weight or “snap back” content.
As a postpartum mama, I hate this part––where I’m fighting the war between what I currently look like and what I want to look like, while trying to extend myself grace.
As a woman, I hate this part––where I can’t eat a slice of pizza or three and not worry about whether or not I’m going to look three-months pregnant instead of three-months postpartum in a few hours.
As a Black woman, I hate this part––where I can’t put on shorts because it’s too hot for pants in this summer heat wave and not think about if I look “appropriate” enough to wear shorts and not be demonized for the new curves pregnancy has brought me.
I hate this part…where I judge my body and see it as anything other than miraculous.
But here’s to changing that.
Here’s to learning to love our bodies where we are right now and not forcing them into the bodies we’ve conjured up in our minds. Here’s to learning to be patient with ourselves, while prioritizing our health. Here’s to not associating health with a size or a number on the scale.
You were gifted your body, sis––gifted it. It is a temple of the Most High God (1 Corinthians 6:19-20); it should never be demonized or ridiculed, but honored and appreciated for being the miraculous vessel that it is.
Always praying GOD’s love + light your way,
xo, Nic.
P.S. I never intended for this space to evolve into a space about my journey to motherhood nor postpartum. But we’re here now. As I evolve, expect this space to evolve. There will still be plenty of discussions about what it means to grow in your relationship with GOD, what my womanhood looks like now as a wife and a mother, and how my identities as a Black woman and a Christian collide. All of this to say there will now be so much more for #TheRibLifeJourney––more discussions to be had, and more ways to unpack this journey…and in love. I hope you’ll stick around.
