Finding My Postpartum Body Mantra

How I discovered my mantra and learned to own my body image

I am blessed to be the mother of a curious, loud, and lovable 17-month-old. My life seems all the more precious by her being in it. Yet, I still feel conflicted about the toll her birth inflicted on my body. I thought by this time I would have come to terms with my post-baby body.

Prevailing Post-Baby Body Mantras

In my struggles, I’ve turned to mom friends and conventional Mommy blogs for support and advice. I noticed that they all followed one of the following mantras:

Mantra 1: Get your body back

Yes, you are clueless, sleep-deprived, and in charge of keeping a helpless mound of screaming, toothless flesh alive. No matter — get that body back in the gym, engorged boobs be darned!

Mantra 2: Embrace your body

Stretch marks, FUPA, under-eye circles, cellulite, hair loss, vaginal tears, hormonal acne — just accept them as beautiful scars earned on the journey of motherhood.

Mantra 3: Your body is gross

As popularized by Ali Wong, just luxuriate in your disgusting form. Your bladder leaks, your breasts leak, you are a mess and it’s all part of the grotesquery of being a mother.

My Journey Through the Mantras

I found myself trying on each of the prevailing mantras at different points on my motherhood journey.

Get my body back

I initially followed Mantra 1. Pre-baby, I had the taut, spring-loaded body of a gymnast, made powerful through boot camps, hot yoga, and running. I pursued these athletic pastimes not for aesthetic reasons (okay, partly for aesthetic reasons), but out of the genuine thrill of challenging my body.

My body and mind had a close relationship; well-connected, they responded in concert to obstacles both physical and mental. I assumed that the birth of my first child would be similarly well-orchestrated. I studied hypnobirthing and imagined a drug-free, natural birth.

Early in my pregnancy, I stayed active and continued my morning runs. I ate healthily. I even made tentative plans to run a 5K with a coworker three months after my due date.

Then, BAM! week eight hit me with intense nausea that lasted for the rest of my pregnancy. Suddenly, I could only tolerate short walks. The pounds accumulated quickly. I gained 45 total, which doesn’t seem so bad until you realize that I’m 5’1’’ and 45 pounds was fully one-third of my original body weight.

Childbirth did not go according to plan. My water broke and my contractions never came, escalating intervention after intervention to jump-start delivery and rescue my IUGR baby.

After I gave birth, I had a low milk supply and an underweight baby that would only accept milk straight from me. I spent our first five months together chained to a breast pump desperately trying to keep my supply up. Six months postpartum, I had not lost a single pound. I realized that I would not be bouncing back to my pre-pregnancy size.

Here’s what I wish someone would have told me at the time: Worrying about weight loss after childbirth is a luxury. When your baby’s health is on the line, you’re not going to have the headspace to think about your bikini body. When postpartum depression consumes you, you’ll want to leave your body behind and won’t really care about what condition it’s in.

Mantra 1 was out of the window.

Embrace my body

I transitioned to Mantra 2. Based on my therapist’s recommendations, I spent the first few minutes of each morning facing my naked reflection in a full-length mirror and listing three things I appreciated about my body. I was resistant at first. The exercise is how I imagine examining a cadaver would be — bizarre and fascinating and disgusting.

After a few weeks, I noticed some changes. I became more grateful for my relative health and strength — that I could walk and carry my baby, for example. I began to accept my body. But fully embrace it I did not.

A part of me was still angry at my body’s failures. I was angry that my placenta had malfunctioned and that my baby was trapped in my womb for weeks without proper nutrition. I was angry that my body had required artificial drugs for labor. I was angry that I couldn’t produce enough milk to feed her. A part of me still felt like a dysfunctional, mangled, socially-unacceptable shell.

What helped me was time. As my daughter’s independence grew, so did mine. I began taking walks in the morning and jogging a couple of times a week. Although I missed the facility of movement I enjoyed with my pre-baby body, I still appreciated the rush of endorphins at the end of each outing. My anger eventually subsided.

Despite some improvement in my self-image, I couldn’t stick with Mantra 2. To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever fully embrace my body as is. Maybe a part of me will always mourn the body I had. The remnants of my old body exist in my new body, like a shadow self. I can’t see one form without seeing and missing the other.

My body is gross

During my naked sessions in the mirror, I started to inspect my body critically. The skin on my stomach, waist, and thighs is ribbed with stretchmarks. They rip through my flesh like a dull, jagged knife scoring an unbaked loaf of bread. An inner tube of doughy flab encircles my waist. My breasts hang off my chest like two deflated balloons filled with sand and pudding. One unruly nipple points askew, like a lazy eye.

Ironically, looking at my body from this perspective has been therapeutic. I can see the truth of what it is. I don’t have to adopt some pseudo zen philosophy where I learn to love the destruction of my body for what it created. I can love my daughter with all my heart and not be thrilled with the effect of her birth on my body.

Owning Our Mantras

The truth is that we all have different experiences and histories with our bodies. An active person with a healthy baby and a strong postpartum support system may wish to adopt Mantra 1, for example. However, for those of us who feel limited by the prevailing mantras, there’s always another option — develop your own.

My Mantra

I am a mother animal is my mantra. When I find myself lamenting my sagging breasts or the sudden emergence of skin tags on my neck, I think, “What if I were a dog?” I imagine a mother dog who has just given birth. Would I judge her for what she looked like? Okay, maybe some Best in Show-type folks would, but it would it even occur to me criticize her matted fur or her the length of her teats? No. It’s just her natural, post-pregnancy state.

When I consider my own body from this point of view, I notice all the scripts I have running through my mind about what my body should look like. “You should have perky breasts and smooth skin, otherwise you are undesirable.” I see these scripts for what they are — based on arbitrary ideals. What if saggy breasts were all the rage, with special attention given to breasts that hang past your belly button? It’s all nonsense and I can choose to give value to these standards — or not. By acknowledging my animal nature, I feel a sense of empowerment and liberation from societal expectations of beauty.

With my mantra, I began to delight in instances of gratitude for my body. Occasionally, my daughter will lovingly caress my stomach or breasts while she’s nursing. In these moments of exquisite connection, I don’t look at my paunch or nipple hair with disdain. I simply relish my body.

At the same time, I recognize the reality that we are social animals. We have an innate drive to ascend to the top of the social hierarchy, and beauty translates into elevated status. According to National Geographic, here’s what beauty means in 2020:

“Beauty is becoming less a matter of aesthetics and more about self-awareness, personal swagger, and individuality…defined by rounded bellies, shimmering silver hair, and mundane imperfections.”

By this definition, I can be a wildly imperfect mother animal and be beautiful. I can think of no creature with more personal swagger than a mother. That’s a self-image I can work with.

Your Mantra

You are a beautiful mother. Your inner monologue, our youth-obsessed culture, or that d-bag Jerry from the office may tell you something different. I hope whatever mantra you choose protects you against these negative messages about your body.

As mothers, we are strong and resilient and amazing. May we come to believe what we repeat.

Note: If you are having thoughts of self-harm, please seek support. I found Postpartum Support International to be helpful during my dark moments with postpartum depression.

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