My Real Postpartum Body
Blogger and mother of two Julie Bhosale of The New Mum's Nutritionist discusses the importance of paying attention to how your body feels post-childbirth rather than the way it looks.
I am a mother. I am tired, broken, and sore. I have lumps, bumps, marks, and jiggly bits.
I am a mother. I have created, grown, carried, and birthed two gorgeous sons.
I am a mother. I am solely responsible for the lives of two little humans, every single day and night, week in and week out, and will be for the rest of my life (and maybe future number three baby).
I am a health professional. I work in an industry that is largely focused on the superficial. The how you look. Not how you feel. Not who you are.
I am a mother.
You too are a mother. You are also tired, exhausted, broken, sore, have lumps, bumps, marks, and jiggly bits.
You too live in a world that judges you on how you look. Not how you feel. Not who you really are and what you have sacrificed . . . and continue to sacrifice.
You live in a society that pushes images at you every day of women who have given birth and just "bounced back" — great for them (truly, that is great, Kate Middleton, you are amazing!). But this is such a small minority. For most of us, our bodies change, and change a lot. It is scary, it is hard, it can be downright disgusting and upsetting, but it is real and normal. Although I am a qualified health professional, I am also a mother and my body has also not just "bounced back." We are starting to see a shift in the media and online with more women sharing the often hidden and unspoken realities of childbirth and the effect on your bodies.
So I have joined in the movement. Here is my #takebackpostpartum body blog. My real body after two children.
On the 17th of January 2015 at 11:10 p.m., I gave birth to my second son. I fought to conceive him. Put my body through assisted reproductive therapy. I was broken just (ha, just!) carrying him to full term. Broken in ways I did not know my body could break (see previous blogs). Photographs do not tell the full story. I could barely walk. I was induced early just to get my son out, as every day he was in me was another day I had to fight to keep carrying him. Before I had children, I would run marathons for fun . . . yes, for fun — just wake up, find an event, and run . . . I could barely walk to the letter box, and I could not pick up my 2-year-old.