Learning to accept postpartum body image

I hated myself for crying at at my first and second six-week postpartum doctor's appointments. So what if my feet were a size thirteen and I gained more than sixty pounds when pregnant? I refused to buy "bigger" sized clothes until our oldest turned one. I tried to rock my maternity clothes for almost two years.

Thankfully, my sister bought me new black yoga pants as a homecoming gift. They are still a total ego trip. I wore those days at a time during those first few weeks and months of transition.

I tried to squeeze into some larger pants that I dug out of my closet from years ago. Even though the clothes were way too tight, I saved money, dammit. My self-satisfaction ended when I split the bottom of those pants multiple times.

I tied something around my waist to hide the evidence in the office. My Mom sewed my pants back together at least twice until she finally refused. I taped them from the inside until I finally threw them out.

My Mom subtly bought me a few new and larger clothes for work after six+ months. I finally caved after a year and bought some clothes that fit. They are a few sizes larger than my initial pre-pregnancy everything, but I no longer look like a clown.

I gave my skimpy bikinis to my younger sister after my first pregnancy, but still hoarded my other pre-pregnancy clothes.

It wasn't easy, but I slowly accepted my body image. And so, I finally gave my smaller clothes to my younger sister. I do still treasure and wear those black yoga pants and big sweat shirt now that our oldest is three.

Meanwhile, I giggle when our toddler pushes in my soft belly. He calls it his pillow that only Mommy has.

My little helper is fast to hide the stretch marks that are starting to fade on my belly if my shirt creeps up when I feed our four month old. I rather laugh than cry over clothes that no longer fit -- especially with our sweet babes that matter much more.

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