I don’t like magic. It makes me mad. Seriously. I get irritated about somebody getting pleasure from intentionally deceiving me. This is probably also the reason I don’t like adults dressed up in costumes, but that’s a subject for a different post. Or no post. Let’s hope I never do a post about that. But I digress. I don’t like seeing the twisting of reality without explanation. I find no joy in it.
So it should be no surprise that I get irritated when I see pictures of celebrity “post baby bodies”. It feels like the same thing for me. I want to ask, “Okay, but seriously, HOW DID YOU DO THAT? Where did the flat stomach come from?!” It doesn’t make me feel like it’s something I should be trying to attain, just strikes me as some grand game of pretend. It is not reality that you should give birth and then two weeks later be parading around in a miniskirt, crop top, and high heels. At least not in the reality I live in.
In the same way you could invest time in figuring out how magic tricks are done, you can also figure out how these women are pulling it off. Good genes, sure. But also a personal trainer, chef-prepared meals, a whole host of undergarments I don’t understand, and a stylist to get rid of all traces of exhaustion. . . and spit-up. This is not the world I live in.
I have written about weight before. My pregnancy journey was one of tremendous weight gain and slow (but steady) weight loss. As my son nears his second birthday, my weight hovers right over my pre pregnancy numbers. And I think I’m kind of okay with that. What I am definitely okay with is how I lost all that weight- eating food that’s good for me, with my favorite treats in moderation, and being active (without going to a gym). I love my life and I want to be healthy enough to enjoy it.
So I wanted to think through the phrase “post baby body”. This is what is used in the celebrity magazine world to describe what is actually a “post pregnancy body”. But I think the distinction is telling. I don’t have a post baby body, because my baby is very much with me. I am not post baby. He’s nearing toddlerhood closer and closer each day, but he is still a baby. How can I have a body that implies I don’t have a baby when that is not the case? I know some moms prioritize intentional exercise because that’s something that’s important to them (and I think that’s great!), but I have never been able to figure out how to do that without being “post baby”. Some moms may be able to be really intentional about only eating certain foods or very specifically counting calories (you are more disciplined than I am!), but that isn’t something I’ve been able to figure out without being post baby. So my body may look like a woman who doesn’t go running (unless it’s towards my crying child at the park) or lift weights (beyond getting the 25 pound baby into the carseat) and who probably eats her share of PB&J remnants. This is my baby body.
I remember my pre baby body. The body of a 25 year-old who was waiting on the adoption paperwork to be completed. Since then it has been one baby after another for the last 6 years (through adoption/fostercare/pregnancy), with two miscarriages lumped in for good measure. My body has been working hard and I’ve been trying to care for it well so it is up for the task. My post adoption, post pregnancy body carries the literal and figurative scars of a long and difficult journey to motherhood. Nicely done, Body.
But someday I will have a post baby body. I will send the littlest child off to Kindergarten with a tear in my eye (and a huge sigh of relief- let’s be honest here) and then my days with a post baby body will begin. I can shower without somebody trying to have a conversation with me WHILE they’re pooping. I can put on make-up without having to also put lipgloss on the three year-old. I’ll be able to brush my teeth without accidentally spitting on the head of a toddler (true story). I’ll be able to eat what sounds good to me, go for a run (if I ever become the kind of woman where that sounds appealing. . . not likely), shop for clothes without having to play an extensive game of hide-and-seek between the racks, and sleep uninterrupted through the night. It will be a great day for my body. But a hard day for my heart.
My love for my babies makes me love this baby body of mine. It keeps me grounded in reality and somedays (when I forget and wear my sweatpants to pick-up my child from school) it keeps me humble. I’ve learned to be proud of how strong it is. I’ve also learned that this body isn’t my identity. It has failed me many times and makes me long not just for the days when I won’t have to wipe peanut butter handprints off my back, but the days of a new body in heaven. A body without decay and age and autoimmune quirks. A body that has never started growing a life only to have that life end in a much too early death. There are days I long to say goodbye to this body that has brought me such sadness, but apparently I still have work to do. And of course I’m incredibly thankful to get to use this body to love my kids and serve the needs of the greater Body of Christ as long as I can.
In our culture where bodies and image seem so important, I want to be a little countercultural. I want to accept my body for what it is, keep it healthy so it can continue to be a tool God can use, and use it daily to bless those around me. These are my goals for my pre baby body, baby body, and post baby body. It won’t take much magic at all to accomplish these goals. Or confusing undergarments.
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