I stared hot daggers into the mirror. If looks could pierce, my mirror would have been shattered into a million pieces. As I held up the nursing bra I had come to despise, each strap seemed to remind me I was no longer sexy. My eyes fell on the criss-cross of the stretch marks laden on my tummy, hips, and thighs, and I inwardly cringed.
It seemed no matter how hard I tried, I was never going to get my shape back. Nothing seemed to be working!
Sprawled across my bed were different shapers, some customized for new mothers, each offering the promise to help restore their pre-birth bodies. At the far end were my trainer, shaper, and corset.
And no, I didn’t relent. The postpartum pictures I had been seeing online only drove my determination higher. And I forgot one important fact; bodies are different, and the healing process differs as well.
Ever since the euphoria of holding my baby in my arms for the first time began to wane, my journey had been riddled with a series of changes.
Depressing changes.
From sore nipples and perineum, tiredness, constipation to the occasional baby blues, belly cramps, and hair loss, it was a rollercoaster ride that threatened to throw me off the edge at any minute.
I knew deep in my heart that my husband loved me but his casual snide remarks did more harm than good. The slyly chipped comment, “I’m sure your mates with their banging bodies back wouldn’t do that” the moment I wanted to reach for the fries or the thinly veiled “I used to be able to carry you but now, it feels like you could lift me” hidden behind fits of laughter, made me want to weep out in frustration. He seemed to have no idea just how low he made me feel.
You would think my female friends would understand, but you wouldn’t be more wrong. They teased me mercilessly, sending me pictures of new mothers and celebrities whose bodies seemingly snapped back barely two months post-partum. It may have been good-intentioned, a tactic calculated to “ginger” me, but it was a bit too much to handle, and I just wished they would stop.
No one seems to understand the pressures faced by new mothers trying to navigate through the brand-new experience of motherhood after going through labour. Not even former new mothers. And certainly not those mounting the pressure for a “snap back” photo session.
My son was going to be three months old the next week. The dedication was going to be a large ceremony, sponsored by my mother-in-law, who wanted to show off her first grandbaby. Even though I would have preferred a small occasion, how could I refuse her when her excitement was so contagious?
While they prepared for the ceremony, I intensified my dieting and exercises because I was determined my first official postpartum pictures would bang. On some days, the weakness threatened to overpower my resolve, but I persevered through the pain.
My perseverance was not fruitless. I was starting to see results, slowly but steadily.
And then the D-day finally arrived. After bathing my son and laying him in his crib, I rushed to the kitchen to ensure that the food was ready as guests would soon come knocking. I smiled to myself as I stirred the pepper soup; I couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when they saw me in my beautiful, lacy, not-quite-bodycon dress.
Everything changed in the blink of an eye. All of a sudden, it felt like the floor was rushing up to meet me. There was a brief moment the scalding pain of the falling hot pot of soup registered. And then there was darkness.
…
I spent my son’s dedication at the hospital. The head injury I sustained gave me a concussion, and the burns on my legs meant I had to be hospitalized. That wasn’t the worst of it. Knowing that my excessive dieting had starved my baby of the nutrients he needed was a slap on the face and made me feel like the worst mother on earth.
Well, I survived, but I can’t get it out of my head that there are other people in that situation I was in, thinking those same thoughts and embarking on the same dangerous journey. Would they?
I hope my story registers if you ever consider conforming to postpartum pressure from your friends and loved ones. As a new mom, you need to heal properly, love the woman you see in the mirror, stretch marks and all, and lose the weight on your terms.
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Love,
Diane.
