Last year I participated in the 7x7 meme from "glow in the woods" about body image. My answers are here. I talk about being "defiantly self confident" pre-loss.
Defiant because, well, I was under no illusions that I had a future career as a supermodel. As a teenager I was a little shorter than average, a whole lot plumper than average, just a smidgeon plainer and more bookish than average. But, hey, who wants to be average? I was happy with who I was. I would observe with bewilderment as friends, far slimmer then me, launched themselves into the latest fad diets. "Why on earth would anyone choose to exist on a diet solely consisting of grapefruit?" I would wonder (I still wonder). Perhaps some of my body confidence came from my faith. I was taught in church that I was created with purpose. My existence was no accident and I was loved unconditionally for who I was - so why strive to change? Why worry about those extra pounds when my body, seemingly, worked just fine.
That confidence lasted through my twenties. I met my wonderful husband when I was twenty and married at 23. Three years later we decided to start a family and, hey, my clever body knew how to make babies. I took the easy conception of my first child completely for granted. I didn't know, then, how lucky I was. As I have posted before, my belief in the essential strength, functionality, accomplishment of my body was a little dented by the difficult births of my first two children but it was balanced by the awe I felt at the idea that such amazing little beings had grown inside me.
But then Emma died inside me. She grew beautifully for nine months but, at the end, before she ever emerged from my body, she was dead. And it doesn't matter how many times other people tell me it wasn't my fault, my relationship with my body changed forever that day. Because it failed. It failed my innocent, gorgeous, precious child - catastrophically.
Since then it has conceived, with ease, twice more and managed to remain pregnant on one of those occasions. Once again, I am in awe of the beautiful little being who has emerged from me. He is stunning.
But, I feel repulsive. Two pregnancies in two years have taken their toll on my body. I feel old, weak, fat. I am tired from grieving and I can't muster the energy to be defiantly self confident any more. I have a living daughter and I don't want the legacy of disordered eating and body issues from my family to pass down to her. I owe it to all my children, but particularly my girl I think, to be fit and well and healthy. I just cannot seem to find the impetus to change the things that need to be changed.
3 comments:
Oh Jill, I have a post brewing in my head just like this. Two years, two babies has taken a toll on my body. I too am shorter and plumper than average. Now I really detest the way I look. The only saving grace for me has been a) keeping Angus alive in utero for nine months and b) fully breastfeeding him thus far. Those two things have saved me from absolutely hating myself. Having a baby die inside of you at the end of a healthy pregnancy can just about destroy a woman.
xo
Those grapefruit diets aren't for me either (although I have been suckered into the SlimFast Plan on more than one occasion!)
I've never had an easy relationship with my body, particularly my weight. Annoyingly, the only time I have experienced must other than slight distaste for it was when I fell pregnant. I think I felt similarly to you in that, hey, here was something my body could do, easily and in multiples. Hmm, how wrong could I be?
I think that, no matter what the circumstances, we all feel our bodies failed because they couldn't give our children life. You might feel as though your body failed Emma but YOU didn't fail her. Never. x
This post spoke straight to my heart. it is exactly what I am having problems with right now. I used to be pretty happy with myself. After I got married I got a little plumper than I'd like, but I was fat and happy and who cared? Being pregnant was like the ultimate amazing thing... right until the end when my body failed Gideon. Then, Butterball. And, though Jareth is here safe and sound, my body tried to hurt him, too. That's one reason I am struggling with the idea of another pregnancy - what will my body screw up next?
Sorry, I guess this isn't very supportive. But I do understand how you feel. And I can tell you that even if you feel like your body failed Emma (and I know that no matter what anyone says, you will feel that way - I do too), you never failed her for one moment. You were an amazing mother to her for those nine months and she was lucky to have such an amazing woman for a Mom. *hugs*
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