Before I wrote this post I looked up the definition of postpartum.  I thought…can I actually consider myself “postpartum” if my child is nearly two?  Obviously I decided that I could still be considered postpartum especially as I am writing the affects that carrying, bearing, and feeding my child has had on my body and on my confidence.

Let me start by saying there are a lot of posts out there about loving your postpartum body embracing it as it is and getting used to the stretch marks, excess weight, and slowed fitness progress…but this ain’t one of them. I’m about to share the cold hard truth about how I feel about my body since it gave birth to my perfect little girl nearly two years ago.

I hate it. 

Hate is a really strong word, I know. And mom’s aren’t supposed to say things like that.  They’re supposed to look at their body and the mirror and say well it’s okay because I had a baby and this is my body now  OR they’re supposed to  “bounce back” and return to their thin selves.  After all, they worked out their whole pregnancy, it won’t be tough to return to their former figure.

That’s not me. 

Before I got pregnant I was consistently weighing in around 110 lbs. That wasn’t something I tried to do, it was just how much I weighed. I had always been a thin girl.  Everyone alway felt the need to comment about how “skinny” I was, but when I got pregnant that all changed…

Through out my pregnancy I hardly worked out at all.  I ate taco bell every weekday for almost a whole trimester.  And after I delivered, the REAL cravings started while I was breast feeding. Which, by the way, was one of the most stressful things I had ever experienced so of course, I had to stress eat. Don’t all breastfeeding moms eat whole tubs of mint chocolate chip icecream in one sitting? To top it off, during maternity leave I was basically just sitting at home on my couch for 6 weeks hardly doing anything.

Cue postpartum weight gain.

It didn’t help that Instagram, other moms, and old freaking wives tales gave me super unrealistic expectations. I thought that after I had Clara that all that pregnancy weight would just fall off.  I thought that Breastfeeding would burn a million calories a day like everyone told me it would and I’d look like a Victoria Secret model.

Wrong. 

Oh so very wrong.

So here I sit, at about 137 lbs, just hating the skin I’m in. I’ve failed at every nutrition plan I’ve attempted to implement.  I’ve slept through 90% of the early morning alarms to go to the gym.  I’ve taken “before progress pictures” 4 or 5 times that have no afters.  No “progress” to speak of.  People say things like “We make time for things that are important to us” or “Why don’t you just (insert seemingly simple plan here)?”  Or I’ll spend some money on programs and trainers and food I think that it’s money well spent and then I just fail to execute and it’s a waste.

I don’t know why I haven’t been able to do it. I don’t know why I can’t be okay with how I look.  I don’t know why all those other women lost weight from breastfeeding when it made me gain it.  I don’t know why some people can just dig in and transform their bodies and others struggle.  I don’t know why I hate what I see in the mirror.

I know that real progress takes time.  I know that not everyone reacts to pregnancy the same way. I know that consistency is key. I know that no one, not even Corey cares about what I look like.  And I KNOW that I’m not the only one out there who feels this way.

If you’ve had a baby (hell even if you had a baby 6 years ago) and you’re feeling like me PLEASE drop me a comment because I NEED ya’ll to keep me going over here. I need to know that I’m not the only one.