Seventy-five pounds. That’s the amount of weight I gained while nurturing and bringing my two children into the world. Surprisingly, that same weight was also key to my healing journey. It took seventy-five pounds for me to understand that I no longer had to be a prisoner to the relentless cycle of diet culture. My experience with pregnancy weight gain turned my life upside down, and I remain grateful for it.
In fact, I have no intention of shedding any of it. Yes, you read that correctly. I am completely indifferent to losing my pregnancy weight. I’m content being in the body I have now, and I mean that with absolute certainty. If my body were to remain this way for the rest of my life, I would be perfectly fine with that. I embrace every stretch mark, every dimple, and the extra softness that has come along for the ride.
To put it bluntly, I transitioned from wishing for a smaller frame to accepting and celebrating the robust body I have—one that has saved my life in more ways than one. For far too long, I masked my wounds surrounding body image with superficial fixes. Since the age of twelve, I have gone to extreme lengths to maintain a slender appearance. I engaged in cycles of binging and purging, restricted my food intake, and fell into a troubling addiction to diet pills. I even found myself enrolled in weight loss programs that I didn’t truly need.
Despite my efforts, the yearning to be thin never seemed to fade, and nobody bothered to ask if I was harming myself in the process. I was not only inflicting physical damage on my body but also grappling with a mindset that equated love and acceptance with weight loss. I became so consumed by this obsession that every time I looked in the mirror, I saw a distorted version of myself—a painful reflection of my self-loathing.
I was trapped in a body image prison, with no apparent escape. And then, unexpectedly, I became pregnant. Sometimes, the most inconvenient situations can serve as catalysts for personal growth in unforeseen ways. For me, the weight gain that accompanied pregnancy felt overwhelmingly inconvenient.
Initially, during the postpartum phase, I fervently attempted to lose weight through rigorous exercise and restrictive diets, inadvertently falling back into unhealthy habits. I absorbed everything I heard about postpartum weight loss from friends—one mother swore that breastfeeding would help shed pounds, while another claimed she dropped weight after weaning. Yet, my experience was different; no matter what I tried, my body resisted change.
It was as if my body had decided it was time to stop transforming and wanted me to accept it as it was. I recall the compliments I received when I was thinner, which fueled my drive to continue losing weight. However, when I started to gain weight during pregnancy, loved ones expressed concern, with some saying things like, “I hope she gets her body back.” This kind of commentary led me down a spiral of shame throughout the first year after my daughter’s birth when attempts to “regain my old body” seemed futile.
Then, I stumbled upon a profound realization that has become my guiding principle whenever self-doubt arises. There is no going “back” in this physical journey; my body has always been with me. It has shown up for me from the very beginning, supporting me in ways I never fully appreciated. Despite my efforts to transform it into something it was not, my body has continuously been there for me, loving me in its unique way.
During my first year postpartum, I fixated on hating my body for simply doing its job. I resented the changes it underwent to bring my first child into the world, blaming it for the physical reminders of that miraculous journey. Isn’t it astonishing how far we can stray from self-acceptance simply because society encourages us to detest the natural changes that come with motherhood?
I am profoundly grateful that I didn’t veer so far away from my true self that I couldn’t find my way back. A single photograph taken shortly after my daughter’s birth was enough to shift my perspective. I had asked my husband to capture a moment right after delivery, and when I rediscovered it a year later, I was struck by the joy radiating from my expression despite my body still looking pregnant and adorned with stretch marks.
That image sparked a transformation within me. Gradually, I began to embrace my reflection, acknowledging the beauty in my curves, dimples, and all the physical evidence of my life experiences. These moments of self-acceptance became more frequent, leading me to the body positivity movement. Embracing my larger frame felt liberating, allowing me to breathe freely for the first time in years.
Now, over two years later, I have reached a level of body acceptance I never thought possible. I still weigh approximately what I did at the birth of my son last fall, though I only check at medical appointments. There are no scales in my home, and I have no plans to introduce one.
I never anticipated that gaining weight during pregnancy would lead to my liberation. Today, I choose to relish each moment, create lasting memories, and confidently step into the frame of life. I embrace every mark on my body as a testament to my journey of nurturing two incredible children. I unapologetically celebrate my body, and I couldn’t be more grateful that those seventy-five pounds helped me reclaim my life.
For more insights into the journey of pregnancy and home insemination, you can explore this excellent resource on donor insemination from the American Pregnancy Association. Additionally, for couples navigating their fertility journey, this guide on artificial insemination kits is a valuable resource. To read more about similar experiences, check out our blog post on the transformative nature of pregnancy weight gain.
In summary, this journey through pregnancy and postpartum has led to profound self-acceptance. The weight gained during this time has not been a burden but rather a pathway to embracing my body and its natural changes.
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