I posted this a few days ago on Instagram. It really should have been a blog post, but who has time to sit down for that right now? Not this girl. Anyway, I'm just going to copy and paste it below because #lazy.
Several times in the last couple of weeks I've been congratulated on my new baby, and they aren't talking about the one in my arms. They think I'm pregnant. I get it. I look like I am. I know people have unrealistic expectations about women bouncing back after giving birth. And I know I started off with a few (or a lot of) extra pounds before getting pregnant. I'm not mad, or even really annoyed. I'm serious when I say that this pregnancy/birth has been my easiest in terms of recovery, both physically and mentally. I'm sure some of that has to do with a baby who nurses well, sleeps well, and can actually be put down in a bassinet for naps. But a lot of the ease of recovery has to do with my relationship with my body. A year ago I was determined to 1. Lose weight and 2. Not get pregnant for a good long time 😑 I did manage to lose some weight before our little surprise joined us. I know my body is soft, and not where I want it to be. But I'll get there. It will take hard work and time, but it will happen. I'm much more patient and forgiving this time around. Maybe it's because I have a better understanding of what my body can do. It's grown three whole new human beings, and (much to my dismay this last time around- the epi didn't take in time!) I've had unmedicated labors and I've worked, and breathed, and moved these babies out of my body and I've loved and fed them with my body, and damnit, that's the most amazing thing I've ever done. So do I love the pregnant looking tummy? Not really. But I do love this body that lets me love these little babies