On: The Body

One of the first ways I knew it was time to take the pregnancy test was that my body felt weird. Not bad, necessarily, just not normal. Even early on, my body wanted me to know that things were changing.

As my pregnancy progressed, I learned new things about my body almost daily. My boobs grew, and my hips grew, and my belly grew. I stubbornly stayed in my normal pants until I just couldn't take it anymore, and my coworker had to rig the button with a rubber band. And still I grew. People asked "Are you sure there's just one in there?" or "You're only 5 months?" and I rolled my eyes at them when they walked away. When people asked how I was feeling, I always just said "tired" because that's the easiest answer. No one really wants to hear about how your hips and ankles hurt all the time, or how your fingers are swollen, or how short of breath you feel. Tired. That's a socially acceptable answer. But even to that answer I got "Oh, just wait til that baby comes! Then you'll know tired!" Guess what? I knew tired during pregnancy and I know tired now. Whether I'm up six times to pee or up six times with a baby....I'm still up six times.

I read about all those possible changes in the What To Expect book, like every pregnant lady. I asked my best friend, a few months further in her pregnancy than I was, what to expect. I let go of physical activities that I used to be good at, like weight lifting, and I let my body be pregnant. I let my body grow a human, and I tried to be kind to it during the process (I did not always succeed). It seemed a little easier to know what to expect, so to speak.

I felt even fairly prepared for labor because the books talk about that too. I was induced, I got the epidural, I pushed when I was told and I delivered my baby. And I felt like a complete rock star. The high I got from pushing out a baby will go unmatched in my life, I'm pretty sure. And I had that thought that I think I share with most moms who've delivered, either vaginally or by C-section, and that was "If I can do this, I can do anything." If I can grow and birth another human...I can do anything.

My postpartum body is....postpartum. And I try to be kind to it. I try to remember that "I can do anything" feeling. But as a woman, my relationship with my body was complicated before pregnancy and childbirth. It is exponentially more so now. The height of "I can do anything" is matched by a low which is equal in magnitude.

As I have navigated this postpartum life, I have not known what to expect. The books kind of end at delivery. And I think partly that is societal (you know, "women are their most important when pregnant, so we write books for them, but then they deliver a baby and the baby is the important one now" mentality). But I think it's also just a very individual journey; how do you write a book to appeal to the populous when each woman will have her own combination of surprises?

Here's some things I never knew to expect and no one warned me about. First, no one warned me that even 6 months out, I'd still feel pregnant in many ways.

• My hips and ankles still hurt all the time. I have to dangle my feet over the edge of the bed in the morning and move my ankles in circles so I can walk. Even then, when I finally hit the floor, I move like a Transformer going from car-form to robot-form. My joints crack and pop as the tendons loosen enough to carry me around.
• My belly is still round. Round in the way that it was when I was about 4 months pregnant. I was encouraged to feel proud of that 4 month belly. My postpartum belly is somehow a symbol of laziness. Same belly, same woman, very different reaction.
• I still don't lift weights (yet, anyway). I will be excited to go back to that when the time is right. 
• The first time I used the restroom postpartum, I wanted to die. I'm sorry pregnant friends, I will warn you about this. I WILL WARN YOU.

But keeping with my "I can do anything" thoughts, my body has surprised me in wonderful ways as well.

• Everything is softer. And not in a bad way. In an "I'm a living fertility goddess" kind of way. 
• My body feeds another person. On demand. I struggle with it, which is a matter for another post. But my body feeds her and it's beautiful.
• The skin on my belly that stretched out to hold her is so soft now.
• My arms and hands are so strong from lifting and carrying her. I know there is a time when I will pick her up, and put her down, and never pick her up again. But right now, I am strong from the weight of her.

My body is mine and my experiences with it are mine. I work toward love and acceptance of my body, and it's hard. This is a complicated time. 

If you're reading this and you're interested in sharing your own experiences with your body around the time of childbirth, you can share it here. Let me know if you're interested in writing a guest post.