I am and have always been so extremely grateful for my body giving me the great pleasure of becoming a Mummy. A luxury I know some men and women would do anything for and not something I have, or ever will take for granted. But as much as I love, admire and adore what my body has achieved in creating our gorgeous George, I am also hugely annoyed at it for leaving me with such a load of postnatal crap, to be blunt.
Bearing in mind I have always pulled myself through this world, content in the the knowledge that no matter what I am experiencing, there is always someone else worse off than me and for that I am thankful. That’s not to say that there are days when I wonder why my body can’t be on par with some of the people that are better off than me.
My pregnancy wasn’t the worse, it wasn’t the greatest. Carpel tunnel syndrome, severe fluid retention, first trimester migraines, nausea, insomnia, sciatica, having to sleep with a million pillows every night, my belly button turning inside out, haemorrhoids! That’s without mentioning all the typical pains and discomforts of your organs all squishing together and a 7lb baby pressing on your lower regions to try and prepare to escape. But it could’ve been worse.
Then there was labour. I was diagnosed with a curved spine (scoliosis) aged 14 and had corrective surgery aged 15 which meant a years recovery and learning to walk again. Through which I endured a substantial amount of pain prior to and post surgery, the likes of which you can only imagine. I thought this had heightened my pain threshold. None of this however compared to the sensation I experienced through labour of having a grown man swing at my hips and pelvis with an enormous sledge hammer in an attempt to crush my bones. Followed by several failed epidural attempts, laying in theatre feeling the consultant fail to pull George through the birth canal with forceps and then push him back up again. Thankfully, although quite vomit inducing, my epidural was increased before I had an emergency Caesarean section.
Eighteen months later and I have three faint black dots on my face below my eye, a melasma from my pregnancy that I was assured would fade when I stopped breastfeeding six months ago. It looks like I’ve smudged my mascara and not cleaned it up but covers relatively well with makeup and is only faint. I quite like it. My feet remained the extra size they had grown during pregnancy. I am currently sixteen pairs into my size 7 shoe collection. A far cry from the 75 pairs of size 6’s I can no longer fit into and really need to sell. My hands swelled during pregnancy so that I had to remove all my rings at 20 weeks. The rings are back on but are noticeably tighter with many of my costume rings no longer passing over my knuckles. The haemorrhoids are no longer a problem thankfully but lets just say I was a fan of soft comfy chairs towards the end of my pregnancy. I was meticulous about smothering my body in every moisturising product going before and during my pregnancy but alas the dreaded stretch marks decide to grace my thighs and lower tum with their presence. I mean I just never even had my thighs down as part of the equation! The baby was in my belly not my thighs! My boobs, only ever having been a B/C cup have remained more or less the same but they lean a little further towards my knees than my chin now and let’s just say if they were pillows then they look a little like some of the stuffing has been emptied from them . And then there’s my beautiful c-section scar. Evidence that I was unable to get George into this world by myself. Something I mentally punished myself over for a long time but that I am now at peace with. As they say, you can’t fight a battle without gaining some war wounds.
So the point I’m trying to make is we need to come to accept our bodies as they are. I don’t think enough of us are honest about our supposéd flaws. The media certainly isn’t that’s for sure. No matter how much you think you could improve your body, try to remember the amazing things it’s done for you and as long as you are happy and healthy then that’s all that matters. Overall, recognise the amazing strength our bodies have to seemingly achieve the impossible.