I got asked the three words every woman dreads when she is not pregnant (well four words).
‘So, when are you due?’
Not due for my period, not due for a poo, not due for the promotion… when am I due to have my baby? That’s what she meant. (My husband said maybe she meant something else, worried I’d be upset. No, that’s what she meant.)
I wanted to say, well actually, I had him a month ago, but instead I said ‘October!’ Because I’m an idiot and didn’t want her to feel bad.
But you know what? I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t embarrassed. I didn’t feel bad. I still look pregnant, and really, why wouldn’t I? I keep having babies two years apart. I’ve grown their bones, their eyes, their little noses and toes, and I’ve created their little beautiful hearts. My organs squished down to allow them to grow and my muscles separated to let them grow bigger. I birthed them from my lady garden and my sun roof and I fed them from my body. I stayed up all night feeding them. I am watching them grow and nurturing them and looking after them from a place of pure exhaustion. A place where I open the door to the postman and my right boob (I call it my Power Tit) is hanging out, my hair matted because I haven’t had time to brush it and wearing maternity leggings… but I look at them, the little things I’ve created and think they’re beautiful, truly beautiful amazing little things.
A friend of mine expressed feeling so upset she still had her mom body three months after having her baby… I mean, why do I, or she have to worry about hiding the evidence of all we have achieved? All we have made? Why should we feel bad? Why should anyone?
On our death beds, are we going to be talking about how we looked after giving birth, or are we going to be talking about the people we gave birth to?
So, if you’re still looking pregnant, if you’ve been mistaken for being pregnant, if you got this delicious overhang like me… embrace it! It’s okay to want to change your body, but don’t spend one more second hating it in the interim.
It’s done something wonderful; it’s made life.
P.S. I’m having a postpartum burger baby shower, where I can eat soft cheese and drink wine! Woohoo!
P.P.S. I don’t need health or fitness advice; I’m happy. I ate pizza for breakfast because I’m that level of tired. Take my baby for a night and I’ll drink a kale smoothie instead, okay?”
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