Naomi is an author, a journalist, a letter-writer and a mama. Her blog is like a well-worn scrapbook, bulging with ticket stubs from far-off places, dispatches from Melbourne life, photographs of the lovely and the absurd, letters from strangers, creative inspiration, fables and dreams, and treasures uncovered. Follow Naomis' blog here
This is why I am celebrating my body.
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Last week as I was pushing the pram with my five-week-old daughter Madeleine in it up a hill, I had an epiphany. An epiphany about control, and power, and something altogether deep and ancient that goes beyond either.
Before I fell pregnant, I had planned to get fit and healthy, and lose the weight that I’d gained the previous year. I told myself I wanted to do this so that I could be an energetic and healthy mum. That was partly true. Truth is I also wanted to give myself a head start at falling into the “yummy mummy” category rather than the “frumpy tracksuit-wearing mummy” category after baby was born.
I went off the pill, then we then left for a month-long holiday in France and Italy, after which (I promised myself), I would embark on my fitness regime. That was not to be. I came home from Europe already pregnant.
To be honest, I felt kind of helpless. I had lost my power, because I had a little life other than my own to think about. I couldn’t start a brutal nutritional program, or run around the park in the already-pushing-mid-30s spring heat, or lift increasingly heavy weights to get that lean body I hankered for, because any of those activities could hurt my unborn baby.
On the other hand, while I was forced to come to terms with relinquishing total control of my body for the first time in my entire life, that body of mine swung into action of its own accord, like a seasoned athlete.
I find it fascinating that, as an older mother, after all these years – decades! – of lying reproductively dormant, my body knew exactly what to do to conceive and nurture a child and, later, to push it out and then to feed it. I had (and still have) no idea what I was doing as a new mother, but my body didn’t need to read “What to Expect” or to talk to anyone: it tapped into something as old as life itself, and did what needed to be done seamlessly and beautifully.
I thought about all this while I was pushing the pram up the hill the other day. There I was, strong enough and energetic enough to lift my baby, cuddle my baby, feed my baby and push my baby up a hill, when only weeks ago I had been approximately double the size, needing to sit down every 10 minutes or so on a simple walk around the mall. It was kind of astonishing to think how my body had once again adapted to do what was needed.
So I may not be the svelte powerhouse of fitness and leanness I’d once wanted to be. I certainly don’t feel like a yummy mummy. But today I want to celebrate the extraordinary things that my body can do, untold, untrained, ancient and beautiful.
How do you feel about your body after your baby was born?
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