I have been struggling with the mess of a body that was left behind after I had Turner. While I appreciate everyone who tells me I look great and that I was all baby and am now back to normal…. they are very wrong.
On average, I weigh about 125 pounds. With Turner, I got up to 164 pounds. When I was pregnant, the weight was all in my belly. At first, I thought that was a good thing. You even couldn’t tell I was pregnant until I was about seven months. I just woke up one day, and BAM, I had a huge belly. Because I have always had a relatively small frame, 5 foot 2 inches, 125 pounds, when Turner decided to finally grow, and all at once, my body could barely handle it. That is when the stretch makes started. I didn’t have any crazy cravings or increase in appetite, so I didn’t really put on much weight at all until my belly started to stretch just for Turner to have more room.
The rapid growth all at once basically ripped the skin from my body. At one point, I didn’t think that I would have to give birth to Turner because I thought my skin would just give way and he would plop right out! Don’t worry, I am going to spare you a picture of the devastation left behind, but I would compare the destruction to that of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.
In all seriousness, because I stayed “skinny” until about seven months, when I started to expand, the stretch marks formed from above my belly button to below my knees. Sexy right? They are still in that stage right now where I would rather die than have anyone see them, even Andrew. Its just not cute. I was all cocky through the majority of my pregnancy because I was little and cute and didn’t have any stretch marks, then one day…. my body just gave up and gave out!
And stretch marks hurt. Like, they feel like 100 tiny bruises. When I am holding Turner and he kicks and hits my stretch marks around my belly button, I contemplate throwing him or removing his legs (totally kidding here) but it stings like a bee, really. Turner will be three months on Friday, and I am still dealing with all of this extra fun.
I have decided that with my next child, or if anyone ever asks my advice, I would say to get fat first. Because while it may not be true, my theory is that if you are a little heavier when you are pregnant, your skin is not strained as much and stretch marks won’t be so bad.
I know they say stretch marks are hereditary and you either get them or you don’t. Well, neither my mom nor my little sister got them and here I am a walking lightening bolt-esque billboard for stretch marks. I tried all the creams and oils, I mean I spared no expense, both during pregnancy and after, and if this result is what happens when you try all of those products, heaven help what I would look like without it!
So not just stretch marks, but extra skin that is just not fun for anyone. I know they say it takes nine months for your body to change for your baby, give yourself nine months for it to change back…. Well, its been three and its not looking too good so far…. literally. I have lost 15 pounds. So I look ok…..on the outside. I still have 30 pounds to lose. THIRTY! That is more than a small child. I mean, realistically, I will take anything from 20-25 and be happy, but geeze, how is that supposed to happen? When I am working full-time, or taking care of Turner when I am not at the office? It seems impossible. And I have this awful fear that if I do not do something about it now, my body will accept the extra flab and just take it in as if its normal, and well, ain’t nobody got time for that. I want the extra skin on my stomach to go away and I want to go back to normal!
And then there are my boobs. I have written about the destruction breastfeeding has had before, but now that I am no longer breastfeeding, I had hoped some sort of relief would come and maybe they would tighten back up a little, well that was wishful thinking. Even without milk, they are bigger than they were before I was pregnant and even bigger than they were at their largest point during my pregnancy. And not a good big either. For my stature, I have always had unproportionally large boobs. But now, they could not be less attractive. Too big for my body, and just loose and gross. Luckily, while the entire bottom half of my body is now scarred with stretch marks, my boobs were relatively spared and do not bare the daunting marks of pregnancy. I have told Andrew I wanted a boob job in the near future, in hopes of gaining back some sort of confidence and in attempt to not be so depressed about what pregnancy has left behind, but if we decide (and if we are able to) have another child, a boob job would just be silly so I must wait. It may be years, but mark my words, one day, I will return the girls to their perky, solid, upright position.
So my C-section scar. A lot of people are against C-sections because of the scar it can leave behind… after 36 hours of labor and three epidurals, you could have cut me open like a thanksgiving turkey and I would have not cared. The last thing I was worried about was a scar, and surprisingly enough, the C-section scar is hardly noticeable. It would not show in a bikini (not like I will EVER wear one of those again). It is very small. Other than the fact that the doctor couldn’t cut a straight line so it looks like a back mountain road, I have no complaints about the appearance.
But like the doctor told me would probably happen, I have no feeling about two inches above and below the scar. The feeling is likely to never return. Its not just a no feeling at all situation. You know when your arm falls asleep and you cannot feel the outside but like the insides tingle? Well that is what it feels like constantly. Its super weird. But if that is the price I had to pay to get my sweet little prince outta me, then I would do it again 100 times.
It is not all bad though. Before Turner, I did not know what hips were. I mean, I had no trace whatsoever of any sort of curve in my mid-section. And while right now there is some extra weight around the edges in that area, if I can lose a few pounds, I think my newly formed hips could be fun. I kind of have a chunky hour glass look going, just needs a little polish thats all.
So while I am dealing with all of these body woes and the mild depression that comes every time I look in a mirror (something I have been avoiding as of late) of course it is all worth it. Shopping is the last thing I want to do, and the ONLY thing Ruby (my sister who scans my blog for her name) wants to do weekend after weekend. I still wear my maternity jeans. They are loose and don’t quite fit like they should, but the elastic band on top provides a more atheistically pleasing look than the size 4 jeans (not only do I refuse to go to a bigger size, I was a 1 before Turner, but any bigger in size and since I am so short I would have to get the pants hemmed, which is just another task motherhood prevents me from having time for). Until my size 4 jeans stop creating a muffin top, I am going to stick to maternity jeans. Those things cost an arm and leg anyway, might as well get my use out of them!
So I may never wear a bikini, or feel confident enough to let Andrew see me change, or anything else for that matter, so what. I have a beautiful, remarkable, absolutely perfect little boy to show for it.