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I wasn’t really going to write this post, until I read Stephanie’s post today at Adventures in Babywearing. And then I thought, hey, maybe someone would relate and say, “I am SO glad someone else on earth feels that way!”
I struggle each day with liking my body.
I’m sure that’s not news to anyone, nor is it specific to me. But the way I feel about my body has taken on new spectrums since I had Libbie.
‘Cause when you look like this:
… and suddenly deflate when the baby exits, your body takes on a whole new shape. Add breastfeeding to that, and you’re not sure you recognize yourself anymore.
My biggest struggle is with my breasts. There, I said it. Every day, I hate them.
I was a DD to begin with. Then I got pregnant. And they grew. And then I started nursing. And they grew.
None of my old tops fit. In fact, I still wear some maternity things on top because I think the nursing breasts balance out the baby belly that was there! (Don’t tell Clinton and Stacy.)
I hate that I have headlights like a Ford that even these covers cannot hide. I hate that I feel unbalanced, that my only button-down shirt is huge in the waist because otherwise it gaps, and that shirts that are completely modest somehow become cleavage city on me.
But then, these breasts are nourishing my daughter. Boosting her immune system. I love breastfeeding, I love the sweet time with her, her little gulps, her smiles afterward. They’re not just a part of my body anymore–they have a PURPOSE.
And so every day, I tell myself it’s OK. Some day I will stop nursing and they’ll go back to normal (of course, I fear this will be the same time I decide to get pregnant again, and the cycle will continue). I am so blessed that nursing has been super easy for us.
The Girls have done me well. Which is why I feel bad about hating them. A daily struggle.
Have you made peace with The Girls? Your stretch marks? Please tell me.