Note that this post was “written” via very slow typing in a notepad on my phone during late night feedings back in January and February. I’m truly terrible with touch screen keyboards, so the effort to type up even a text message is appalling. So just know that this post took WEEKS, for this old woman to smash out. And then has sat on the backburner waiting for me to find time to edit the ridiculously autocorrected 2am garbles... I’m trying here!
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In America, pregnancy is one of the only times when weight gain is exalted.* Every pound packed on is an addition towards a noble cause. Gone are the billowing tents of yesteryear, used to hide one's now-curvy figure. While everyday-pooches are to be strategically hidden, bumps are to be flaunted. They are badges of honor. Bodycon for bumps is a THING.
As long as you're pregnant, it's fine. But once that baby is out, those extra pounds go back to being judged. ‘Bouncing back’ is a dreaded expectation. You were granted nine months where society allowed you to be larger, but they won’t abide by much more than that. Sure, you have a new human that you’ve grown, and have gone through a massive physical (and emotional) trauma bringing them into this world, and are now trying to figure out how to care for them outside the bump, but, you OBVIOUSLY need to find time to work out and prep/eat healthy meals, too. Else, you’re failing as a mother. And as a wife. And as a woman. And just like, overall.
And it's a bunch of bullshit.
Okay, so. Before I dig in, disclaimer:
I am ALL about new moms taking time to care for themselves. They need and deserve that time. And for some, that absolutely is time for yoga, or a run, or to get veggies at the farmer’s market. And if getting back into a certain physical condition more swiftly helps a mom mentally/emotionally, as well as physically, then YAS queen, do as you will. This is more a rage about a societal expectation put on new moms, and how unrealistic and harmful it can be. And how we need to continue to normalize changes to our bodies as we grow as people (whether or not that involves birthing a baby) and embrace feeling healthy and beautiful over a number on a scale.
So let's go down the full weight journey rabbit hole of the last few years: like most women, I gained weight as I progressed into my thirties. Not a substantial amount, but there was a point where I suddenly realized I was in a different decade on the scale (the 140s) and literally my brain thought it was the one I’d “always” been in as an adult (the 130s). Because brains are funny that way.
When we got engaged in 2018, set to marry in fall of 2019, I thought “this is it - if this won’t motivate me to workout and eat better and 'get skinny' and hit my 'goal weight,' nothing will!” ... And then I spent a year not being motivated. (I was too busy doing wedding prep and other stuff.) Sure, I did more toning, and walks, and made a point to eat/drink out less, and tried a bit harder in random bursts, but overall I didn’t go nuts about it. I also jotted down my weight every single day, just for awareness, without stressing too much over the number. But, with all that minimal effort, when done over the course of a year, I did lose about a dozen pounds before the wedding.
I continued my daily weight tracking, and in the months following the wedding slowly bopped back to my "normal" weight again. Then, 2020 came, and I watched with morbid fascination as the pandemic hit all of our waistlines. And with no where to go, no happy hour calories to be had, and endless at home time to focus on myself, I thought “this is it - I don’t have being busy as an excuse- if this won’t motivate me to workout and eat better, nothing will!” ... And then I realized motivation is often lacking when in deep states of depression and overwhelm. But, for the first several months of Covid, I had an irrational fear that we would run out of food / not have access to groceries. That, plus stress, caused me to lose about six pounds. But don’t worry, I hit my baking and stress-eating stride just like everyone else and rolling into early 2021 I was back up again to that pre-pani weight, plus a couple pounds. But we all were about there. The memes were endless, but so were the ads for online exercise classes and Peletons.
Then I got pregnant. And knowing that the nutrients I was putting in and how I was treating my body would directly impact our precious child, I thought, “this is it - if this won’t motivate me to workout and eat better and focus on my health, nothing will!” Andddd spoiler alert... that motivation just didn't come. I was good about avoiding some bad eats and not always overindulging, but overall I did not massively change for the better. I got more steps in, and did more stretching, and ate my veggies/fruits, but, I was too exhausted to properly dig in on meal prep and things like I thought I should. Shame on me, I know. (But at least I HYDRATED!)
With the weight gain of a new human life came the weight of placenta and fluids and everything else to house and grow that life. And the fun baddies like the almost-outie belly button, horrible back pain, swollen everythings, and just all the discomfort from the additional strain put on my body from rapid weight gain (just as there would be from rapid weight loss). I gained 33.5 pounds while pregnant and hit a number I’ve never seen on the scale. I carried that weight solely in my boobs and belly, which my porcelain skin will never forget. All of which cumulated in me delivering our beautiful (but massive), nine pound bébé, a week past my due date.
And there’s just no fucking way a body springs back quickly from that. Not on any front. Even with breastfeeding - which, people rave about as if it's some miracle weight loss program, but it is NOT. (Don’t get me started about how much I need to consume in order to stay afloat for that life sucking miracle.) The entire process was such a massive shift (to my organs, hormones, and life), that any expectation to return to "normal" in a rapid manner seems just so insane.
The rare free time I’ve gotten with a newborn is spent scrambling to do laundry, or organizing so my mind feels some semblance of control, or stuffing a pop-tart in my face... it’s not spent at the gym. And maybe there will be a point where that shifts. Maybe when I’m WFH and our baby is at daycare I’ll do lunchtime workouts. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just embrace the fluff and nap...
UPDATE: it's especially evident in the last paragraph that this post was written prior to my return to work. Having been back at work for a few months now, I can confidently say that working out during lunchtime is NOT a thing, though is not out of the realm of possibility. I also am grateful for having stopped looking in mirrors during the pandemic - it overall means I have the ability to bop out into public and not care at all what I look like, so any additional weight has not bothered my self esteem on a public front. I've embraced the parts of my wardrobe that fit my body as it is, and the fact that my body has a death grip on certain pounds while I continue to breastfeed. After I'm done breastfeeding, will reassess. I'm currently still up about 13 pounds from my "normal" weight (which I used as my baseline for all the gain/loss numbers in this post), so have lost about 20 points since giving birth. Given that it took nine months to gain that weight and I'm now about 7.5 months out from labor and delivery, I feel like I'm doing alright. For now, I'm comfortable where I am (though I miss wearing some of my slimmer fit clothes) - big boobs and all.
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| We plan to have our cake and eat it, too. |
* Well, that and when celebs are “committing” to a role, à la Batman Bale.
