Coming to terms with my post-pregnancy body

The problem with talking about your post-pregnancy body in any kind of negative way is that you’re opening yourself up to certain types of comments. When I was pregnant the second time round I told myself that I wouldn’t be ‘one of those mums’ who moans about her stretchmarks and her wobbly belly because these are reminders that your body has done something incredible – you’ve created a friggin’ human being! But ya know what? It’s amazing how making, growing and birthing a baby can simultaneously make you feel like Wonder Woman whilst also completely destroying your body confidence. If you ever had any to begin with.

When I got pregnant I was a size 12-14 and weighed about 84kg (just over 13 stone). Four years previously, when me and Luke first got together, I was a comfortable size 12 and made no effort whatsoever – I was eating what I liked and wasn’t doing anything in particular exercise-wise. Looking back now, I was at my thinnest and didn’t even realise it.

Fast forward two years and I was in an office job. No longer rushing about, working in retail, I was sat on my arse all day every day and it didn’t take long for the pounds to start piling on. Within a year I was a size 12-14 and a bit on the squishy side. At the time of getting pregnant, I was trying to get back down to a solid size 12 and below the 80kg mark. Once pregnant, dieting wasn’t a priority – I had to be sensible and worry about my body later. I gave in to cravings and because my feet became swollen early and I developed pelvic dysfunction, I wasn’t really able to get about all that much. I figured any extra weight gained could be worked off once the baby arrived. Boy was I wrong!

On my due date I weighed 101kg (nearly 16 stone). Of course, you’ve got to factor in the baby’s weight, the placenta and all that extra blood and fluid, but still… On my first day back at home, when Jenson was four days old, I weighed 94.8kg (just shy of 15 stone) and now, five months later, I’m still hovering around the 90-91kg mark (14 stone). It’s not those numbers that bother me so much but rather that I don’t look the same. I had a bit of a belly to begin with but my emergency cesarean (I think this is more common with cesareans than ‘natural’ births?) has left me with an overhang. Excuse the rather unpleasant/unflattering photos. I um-ed and ah-ed for ages over whether or not to share these but the rare photos which I’ve seen of other women in similar situations have been oddly reassuring and I hope that this post will help other new mums feel better about their own bodies – or at least realise that they’re not alone.

I don’t mind the stretchmarks so much but the overhang, which doctors ‘affectionately’ refer to as an ‘apron’, can be pretty soul destroying.

My cesarean scar sits right under the ‘apron’, which meant I couldn’t comfortable wear normal underwear for a long time. In fact, I still wear my granny pants because I’d rather my underwear completely covers my lower belly rather than have it hang over the top. When Jenson was nine weeks old I made the move from long skirts and dresses to maternity jeans, as anything tight over my tummy until then felt uncomfortable. They acted like a push up bra for the bulge (see below) and I wouldn’t put them on again.

Of course, there are some outfits that are more flattering than others. I’ve taken to wearing jeggings with long, baggy tops or skater dresses so that nothing clings to it. I refuse to wear maternity clothes now as it’s kinda depressing wearing them five months later, so I’ve accepted that I’m currently a size 14-16.

Exercise was out of the question for quite a while after Jenson was born and all I really did was walk everywhere I could. On dry days, when I can time Jenson’s feeds just right, we walk into town to meet Luke from work. We’re lucky to live in such a beautiful area with a cycle path along the beach. Even on a cloudy day it’s still a nice walk and it’s great to stretch my legs. In terms of more ‘traditional’ exercise, I went back to roller derby a few weeks ago, so for an hour or so a week, I skate my little heart out and attempt to stay on my feet. I keep meaning to plonk the rowing machine in front of the TV for half an hour day, as I did pre-pregnancy, but there are other things I’d rather do with my time at the moment. If I’m not looking after Jenson, I’m doing housework or cooking, and I’d much rather dedicate my hour or two of quiet time in the evening to catching up on online shenanigans. I guess I can’t be all that bothered about how I look if I’m not motivated to do something about it…

I’ve read maybe a dozen or so articles and blog posts about post-pregnancy bodies and how it takes nine months to grow the baby and another nine for your body to go back to normal. I’m over halfway there now and don’t feel like anything has changed yet. On the really shit days, when I accidentally put on an old top and wonder why it doesn’t fit, I wonder if that ‘apron’ will become a permanent feature. The old me would say ‘fuck it, you’ve got a gorgeous baby who doesn’t give a shit how you look’. But new me? She could do with a bit of a confidence boost – or some new baggy jumpers to hide under through the winter! If I can shift a couple of stone before the spring, at least my old wardrobe will feel like a whole new one! Every cloud…