On Not Bouncing Back

I am nearly three years postpartum, and I have not snapped back to the body or the self I used to be before the birth of my daughter. In fact, I put on so much weight postpartum that I became the heaviest I'd ever been in my life. I threw away my entire pre-pregnancy wardrobe and bought stretchy leggings and oversized shirts and hoodies so I could hide myself comfortably. I catch my reflection in the mirror, and it's a reflection of a woman who still looks five months pregnant, but without the pregnancy glow. Losing weight has been a slow process, especially with my predisposition to insulin resistance, a family history of obesity and diabetes, and gestational diabetes of my own. As a result of the weight gain I have also had lipomas — hard lumps of fat — pop out of nowhere on my arms and thighs, in addition to the already pre-existing cellulite and stage 2 venous insufficiency of my left leg (varicose veins — another generational gift!). I was fortunate enough to have a natural, unmedicated birth, and yet I look like I got the proverbial C-section "shelf". That lower part of my stomach is also riddled with stretch marks as deep as canyons, although they have faded to silver now, but I can still see them and feel them when I run my hands over my body. I cringe every time I bend into a downward dog and see that enormous mommy pouch hanging underneath like a half-empty sack of flour. During strength training sessions, there are moments when I feel discouraged and overwhelmed by the fact that I am so weak and so out of shape. I still have a long way to go.

Seeing women post their postpartum progress or influencers on Instagram like Tammy Hembrow popping babies and looking like they never did the next day makes me feel like I haven't been working hard enough to "bounce back", that I have "let myself go", that my youthful figure and face are an unattainable dream, and I should just gracefully accept the body I am in now and be "thankful for the gift it brought me" and the fact that it bore a new human being.

The truth is, I can be grateful and dissatisfied at the same time. Dissatisfaction and pain are usually what drive the greatest motivation for change, and I have been on a year-long road to losing weight and lately, getting stronger and fitter. There is no shame in wanting to look good, while also understanding that "bouncing back" is a ridiculous notion when it takes years for your body and your hormones to recalibrate after birth. And even when they do, you are not the same person you were before you became a mother. But we set wildly unrealistic expectations of ourselves and I see a lot of anguish from women only a couple of weeks postpartum worrying about their weight and considering GLP-1 or surgical mommy makeovers.

It is also especially cruel that this pressure to bounce back comes right at a time when your capacity to work out and eat well is at its lowest. You are dealing with sleep deprivation, nutrient deficiencies, hormone fluctuations, breastfeeding, newborn care, navigating your relationships, possibly managing your return to work, or in my case, promotion to C-level right after my maternity leave ended. During my first year postpartum I tried to give my best to my career and my newborn, and losing the baby weight simply did not fit on my priority list.

We seem to have a hard time accepting that our body changes over time — first through puberty, then postpartum, then through perimenopause, and eventually as we grow old. We should embrace this evolution from maiden to mother to crone as something to celebrate, and do our best to take care of our health — mental health included — without resorting to harsh interventions or counting calories and macros throughout our entire lives. We should stop hating ourselves and feeling embarrassed about having a normal body and not an Instagram-edited injection-filled surgery-modified one.

I think there must be a balance between making efforts to look healthy and fit in a sustainable and non-invasive way and accepting your body's natural imperfections and changes after pregnancy and birth. It's realizing that most people around us — including our partners — are mostly blind to these small imperfections and never notice them — sagging skin or deflated breasts, stretch marks — they fade next to the energy of someone who sleeps well, moves daily, and feels at home in her own skin. They really begin to matter much less once you get that deep sense of wellbeing that floods you when you are consistently nourishing your body with healthy foods and giving it the movement it craves.

They are defeated by the confidence of a woman who feels powerful in her body and is proud of what she has been through. Who accepts and loves herself as much as she accepts and loves those around her. Who moves through this new season of life with awareness and reverence towards the body that carried her this far.

I am intentional about what I eat now, and I exercise to become stronger and fitter not because I want to bounce back, but because I want to move forward into my 40s and beyond in good health. But I don't count calories or macros, and I accept there are certain simple exercises which the younger version of me did with ease, but which I really struggle to do now. I accept it will take time to build strength and mobility, and so I refuse to be discouraged by my slow progress. And, as much as I dislike the mommy pouch, resorting to knives and needles is unthinkable — these are tools best kept for medical emergencies instead of routine beauty procedures. I believe that true beauty comes from being healthy and confident, not the reverse. True beauty, like everything in nature, is never perfectly symmetrical, manufactured, or cut to shape.