Snapping Back Isn’t Real When You Don’t Recognize Your Own Body.
Three years ago, I decided to push myself physically for the first time. I trained and ran the LA Marathon and it was one of the most glorious experiences of my life. When I finished, I was able to look back on months of disciplined workouts and eating choices and know that I was capable of so much more than the lazy dependence on my good genes I had come to rely on. It was, without a doubt, the best shape I had ever been in. With that confidence, we decided to start a family.
My first pregnancy was awesome. I felt powerful, healthy and confident. My labor was about three hours total from water breaking to baby in hand and I thought, “Well, that wasn’t so bad!” Then the six-week appointment came and they cleared me for pre-baby everything and I thought, “You’ve got to be kidding me. How do you not see how busted my vagina is?” At four months, things still felt off and they gave me a cream that did next to nothing. At five months post-partum they told me I needed surgery to clear up some scar tissue. After I ugly cried all the way home from the doctor, I got serious about finding solutions.
I found a second opinion in the non knife-wielding world of eastern medicine and she saved me. Like, literally saved my vagina, my sex life, and my brain from actually believing that it was logical to expect my body to be what it was pre-child within a matter of months. I think I went in knowing that, but kind-of secretly cared more about having a tight ass again than making sure that things like my organs were back in place. Details.
Here’s what I know as a now very pregnant woman experiencing round two of this miracle of hosting, birthing and nurturing a child: That six-week appointment can kiss my ass. And ‘snapping back’ isn’t a thing … not even for us skinny bitches who look unscathed by pregnancy. Things change, bodies change. I already want to be less squishy, but I’m trying to remember to be kind to this body of mine that has worked so hard to make two tiny people. It’s easy to be disappointed and self-loathing, wishing for the good old days of tight abs and cellulite-free butt cheeks. But that simply diminishes the other kind of marathon my body has been racing. Neither is better than the other, but both deserve seasons for healing and appreciation. I hope you all find that and applaud yourselves as you go through this journey to being a mom.