Thirty nine. This is the number of times I have brushed up against messages on weight loss and post baby bodies today.
The messages have ranged from images of mums flaunting their weight loss goals in their active wear, to a mum proactively messaging me on Facebook about a program that she’s selling. It’s timely. It’s spring and everyone wants to get in shape for summer.
Never in my life have I felt so much external pressure around my body. It’s not from my husband, my children, my doctor, my family or my friends. It’s from what I see and read – social media, articles, all that kinda stuff.
It has me thinking about the Mums with new babies that I’m friends with. Our primary concern is getting through these first six months (and then the next six months). We’re bloody tired – emotionally and physically from giving birth and the testing marathon that proceeds it. We’re breastfeeding and our appetites have ballooned, far greater than when we were pregnant and we’d rather feed our babies than diet. We’re juggling the care of other children, older parents, relationships and careers. We talk about so many things – our families, when (or if) we’re going to opt back into work, trends we’re seeing in our industries, career moves of our peers, the challenge of intimacy within the exhaustion, politics, what we’re reading (or wanting to read), what we’re going to make for dinner tonight, baby life hacks and how lonely modern motherhood can be.
Weight loss funnily isn’t a topic of conversation.
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There are few things as confronting as a woman’s post pregnancy body. Her breasts engorged and drooped and her stomach stretched, full and rounded from her pesky protruding uterus. A layer of fat still surrounds her bones, her back aches, her vagina starts its post birth bleed, dark circles stain her tired eyes, her hair sheds and she generally looks little run over because that’s exactly what has happened.
In opposition to the awe and beauty of the pregnant body, this aftermath of new life attracts judgement, pity and silent scorn that few other bodies receive. For if there’s one body that society loathes, it’s the postpartum body.
From Beyonce to the latest social media influencer/model/entrepreneur, women are bombarded with images of those who have successfully and with lightening speed, “bounced back”. We now call them the “Bounce-Back Mums” – those who have worked away any trace of ever having incubated a child. The weight, the stretch marks, the shape of it all must go. And as a result, there is a set of new Mums who revel in sharing pictures of how fast they can fit back into their skinny jeans, bikinis or active wear to the mixed praise and shame of other Mums (I think it’s why so many of us love Celeste). And they use hashtags around being healthy and inspirational as if rapid weight loss is the only true indicator of health and wellness.
Society and culture dramatic influences how we value and embody our bodies and this causes the postpartum bod a spot of bother. The female body has been largely constructed and valued for its sex appeal so it’s no wonder this new body is rejected. It isn’t stereotypically sexy. It can’t be used to sell anything (except cosmetic surgery?) and according to the beauty industry, it doesn’t look good so what good could it possibly serve?
As a society, we like talking about the ideal body in harsh tones. Bodies are hard, toned, ripped and lithe. There is no place for something softer, wobbly, curved, nurturing and dimpled. It couldn’t possibly be healthy.
To add to this, I think part of the anguish is that the post pregnancy body is a tough one to identify with. Its change has come quickly, harshly and drastically. It’s like the anti-makeover where everything that was once pert starts sagging and stretch marks run riot. Things feel weaker. I look at my new body and it’s hard to believe that it’s mine and yet it is. It happened so quickly. And I feel a sense of loss.
No wonder we talk about women getting their “body back”. It’s like our real body was the pre-pregnancy one. The one whose pelvic floor muscles could relax when laughing, coughing or sneezing. This new body isn’t one we should want to own. Where did that other body go? How quickly can I find it? The quicker you get it back, the higher the praise.
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I’m currently in conversation about my health with a good friend of mine, Mei, who is a doctor and health strategist and she challenged me:
“Cath, your vision of the ‘healthy you’ is you when you were 19. Your life was different then. Your body was different, your priorities and your available time were different to what they are now. It’s unrealistic. You need an updated definition of health based on who you are now, how much time you have, what you value and what brings you joy.”
And like that, she nailed it for me. So many of us are looking back. We consider health a picture of who we have been in the past and restrict our health to a vision of just our physical condition. No wonder it’s hard. What about our emotional, mental and spiritual health? What about our values? What about the things that bring us meaning and happiness? We need these things for our health as well.
I don’t want to work out every time my baby is asleep so I can #shred. It brings me joy to watch him sleep and to cuddle him because I know this time will fly by. It’s good for my soul to read and write and explore ideas. I find meaning in cooking for my family, from helping our teenage son with his homework, sharing piano lessons and taking photographs. And being the nerd that I am, I need the mental work out I get from work and from thinking through problems.
And I like my stretch marks because they’re part of the story of who I am – a mother.
Don’t get me wrong, at times I struggle with my postpartum body, but with Mei, we are planning something more holistic, which I value. There’s time, space and security.
Our plan firstly focuses on me getting some more sleep – consistent chunks of interrupted sleep. Oh how sexy does that sound?! And then we’re going to focus on movement that makes me happy.
I think there’s something wildly attractive about all of this.
It’s softer, kinder, wiser and more nurturing.
Kinda like my new body.
CATHERINE KING 