I dislike my body. After four children, things are not exactly where they used to be. Things are bigger, other things are smaller, others are misshapen. It certainly isn’t he body I used to have. I’m jealous of women who bounce right back to their pre-pregnancy body. We all know someone who seems to miraculously melt off their baby weight overnight. And truth be told, I was once that woman. After my first pregnancy, I was right back to my pre-pregnancy shape in a couple weeks.
Now, I longingly look in my closet, wishing I’d fit into my old clothes. And then there are my skinny jeans. Oh, my “skinny jeans”. They are jeans I can wear only when I’m skinny. I’ve taken them out after every one of my pregnancies, as a goal. There is nothing wrong with setting a goal, but when it consumes and defines you, it becomes a problem. I wasn’t happy if I didn’t fit into those jeans. I felt fat. I felt depressed.
I‘d look in the mirror and wonder where my body went. Why did it need to go? I‘d sit and stare at these hips that seemed to take over my entire body. They are big. They are clunky. They run into walls as I am rounding corners. I don’t like the way clothes fit.
But while I dislike them, I’ve come far from the loathing I used to feel. It took me some time, but I needed to come to terms with why my body had changed. I needed to give my body a break and love it for what it had done and what it is doing. My body has spent years forming and nourishing little babies. It kept them alive and healthy. It continues to keep me strong and healthy so I can continue to care for my children.
I was once told  that women comparing childbirth stories sound like old men comparing battle stories. And my body has been through a battle. My changing body is what I have to show for it. While these changes bother me, they don’t bother anyone else. My husband thinks I am beautiful; my kids see me as “Mommy” and not some giant pair of hips. And that’s what really matters.
I’m not completely over my body image woes. There are many things I don’t feel ok about. But, I can appreciate my post-baby body for what it is. My hips are for carrying babies, both inside and outside the womb. My hips are for shutting car doors when my arms are full of kids and groceries. My hips are for birthing beautiful children into this world, perfect little beings that I wouldn’t trade for the most in-shape and fit body. My hips are like my battle scars, and that, I’m ok with.
photo credit: quinn.anya via photopin cc