Reclaiming my body
I find myself reminiscing about my pregnancy surprisingly often. Despite the anxiety, migraine and heartburn my bump generated, I did love the feeling of meditating while focusing on my son, or the thrill I felt every time he kicked. I cherished every moment knowing that he would never be that close to me again. There's also nothing quite like the pampering one gets while sporting an obvious bun in the oven (to the point of being bumped up to first class on a flight).
But the truth is, during all of 2017 I was basically my son's host. I went into my pregnancy pitifully naive, with little to no knowledge of just how much my body would change, and how little control I would have over it for many months to come.
For starters, my diet changed. I went from being vegetarian to shameful omnivore for my son's sake. It was a lose/lose situation: I felt lazy and guilty for compromising my personal ethic and palate, but knew that if my baby had any developmental issues due to my diet I would never ever be able to live with myself. I couldn't take any risks. Testing negative for toxoplasmosis also meant that I had to be super extra careful around salads, my favorite cheeses AND my cat. From one day to the next I became not only a meat-eater, but a massively annoying germaphobe.
My fitness level also, naturally, changed. Prior to finding out I was pregnant, I would take my bike to work almost every day. I would often go to the gym before work, too. I loved realizing that I could lift more weight than many guys in my body pump classes. Alas, none of that remained the same. I still worked out up to the week before my son's birth, but at a much slower, lighter, non-demanding - frankly, boring - level. My body was already busy working on the greatest challenge it could ever undertake.
Finally, I had little control over my brain, too. "Pregnancy brain" is not a myth, at least in my experience. I was horribly affected by a crippling anxiety, and struggled to retain some balance, especially in the first trimester.
All in all, being pregnant was a bliss and a pain, the most wonderful and testing experience - i.e. a great appetizer for what life with an infant would come to be.
Because, of course, a breastfeeding mother cannot reclaim her body just like that, either. My son's pediatrician ordered me to keep on eating animal protein - and, once again, I wouldn't take any chances. There is a loooong list of forbidden foods and activities for nursing mothers, too. Not to mention local beliefs (in Brazil, it's said that eating chocolate can lead to your baby having colic; in Germany, they believe that working out too much leads to the milk turning sour).
Which is why my son's 6th "monthversary" is a truly exciting occasion for me. Not only does he have massive milestones coming up right around the corner, the pressure is also (a little bit) off as I hit a personal breastfeeding turning point. 2018 is hence, for me, the year to take over my body once again. To become vegetarian, to lift heavy weights, to run a semi-marathon if I wish to. To drink all the wine and eat all the cheese. To be powered by coffee. It is, second only to being a mother, the year of redefining who I am to myself.
At almost 6 months postpartum, I haven't reached my pre-pregnancy weight yet, and I'm honestly dreadfully far from it. My pants do fit with some extra effort and some tucking in, but my body still feels off. And it's frustrating to come off on the other side of 1+ year of constant, uncontrollable change still "feeling off". Of course, it's all more than worth it and I would do it all again in a heartbeat - but still, let's not forget that mothers are individuals. With a body. With a mind. And with a hell of a learning curve before landing on a new "normal". On a new identity, an idea of self, an acceptance of what we see in the mirror, and who we are beyond that.
This year, I may not reclaim my time or my sleep (will I ever?). But I'm proudly rediscovering, reconnecting, redefining - reclaiming my body. And also my mind. My soul. For I must constantly remind myself that in this new normal I am S's proud and loving mother, but I am also so much more.
Photo credit: Carolina Goetz