I allowed the joy of my pregnancy to be robbed from me because of my weight.
Before conceiving, I had lost 67 pounds. When we found out we were pregnant I had lost enough weight to get myself out of the “high risk” category, and I was elated. I had a very uneventful and normal pregnancy medical-wise. Emotionally, it was a whole different ball game.
I did not start showing until around eight months, so I found myself working the fact that I was expecting into conversations with complete strangers. I read posts and heard women saying, “I can’t believe this lady asked me if I was ready to pop!” or, “Someone asked to rub my belly again.” I would have given anything to have someone even recognize that I was carrying my miracle.
Towards the end of my pregnancy, I was finally growing out of my regular clothes, so I needed some maternity wear. The plus size maternity clothing selection was comical. I literally laughed out loud when, out of the entire store, I was shown two racks of shirts and 3-4 pairs of jeans. Out of that selection I still didn’t fit into half of the tops offered.
I never posted weekly belly pictures on Facebook. I chose to not take professional maternity pictures because I felt silly. I didn’t have much of a belly to nestle under my arm while lovingly gazing into my husband’s eyes. I couldn’t find a flowing dress to fit me while standing in a field of wildflowers at sunset. Instead, I reluctantly took a picture of me standing sideways in our living room around 32 weeks in my plain pink shirt. I figured my future daughter would like at least some proof I was actually pregnant with her.
I did not realize how much I had missed out on until I looked into my daughter’s eyes for the first time. I missed out on sharing the joy that I conceived so quickly despite having PCOS. I missed out on sharing how excited I was that I had new life growing inside of me. I passed on documenting how much I loved this little lady who sat on my bladder for four months straight. I robbed my daughter of being able to look at pictures and see how loved she was before she was even born. While I was wrapped up in allowing moments to be stolen from me, I ended up stealing from her, and that’s not OK.
People may see me as an overweight mom and judge me, but I know in my daughter’s eyes the only thing she needs to see is a strong woman who loves her unconditionally. I promise to never let anyone, not even me, ever rob her of that.
So much love and solidarity, mama!! I totally relate to everything you write. Your body created a little miracle just like every other pregnant woman in the history of the world, and that is pretty incredible! Having my daughter actually helped heal my relationship with my body. Even though it has let me down in lots of ways, it knocked this one out of the park! 🙂