body lovin' and a snowy day from the past

these photos have nothing to do with anything but I found them on my computer and they almost made me miss winter. almost. 

There was a blog post circulating some time ago about loving your postpartum body, stretch marks and all because it was so worth holding and having your beautiful baby in your arms. Obviously I would never trade my baby to get my 17 year old body back, but I certainly don't love this postpartum body of mine. In fact, I kinda hate it.

I was probably six-ish months pregnant when I read that blog post for the first time and thought "that is exactly how I feel. I don't care what this baby does to my body. I will love it all." Well that's really noble and everything, Catherine of the past, but I think you're underestimating just how much your body is going to suck in 4 months time. 

See, I thought that the only real thing that would change would be my belly. I was prepared for stretch marks and some flappy skin and zero abs. I just figured I'd do some cardio and crunches and get back to life, ya know? What I wasn't prepared for was the 3 cup size larger boobs, the ridiculous hip spread, and the stretch marks covering my entire body. 

Despite all this I still remained optimistic about being able to get back down to a reasonable size in order to properly enjoy my summer poolside. I was so antsy to hit the 6 week postpartum mark so I could start working out again. I eventually got the go ahead and rushed home to work out. Turned on Insanity, which I used to be able to do without too much struggle (let's be honest no one can actually do Insanity). I did 5 minutes of that crap and had to stop for fear of dying. And I'm not talking 'push through it feel the burn this is good for you you can do it!!!' kind of dying. I'm talking 'please put me on a stretcher and roll me to the hospital I think my body is broken' kind of dying. 

So I buried all my hopes and dreams in an XXL coffin beneath hand weights and a pile of all the cute clothes I used to wear. 

Before we moved to San Antonio for the summer Andrew and I went through all our clothes and purged them of all the ones we didn't want or that didn't fit anymore. I ended up donating most my clothes but I did make a small pile that I called "someday" which consists of all the clothes that I just haaaave to fit in again. It was really depressing to me just how many clothes I didn't have at the end of that purge.  

Side note: are you ever in the middle of blogging when your baby starts being really fussy and you can't figure out why and he doesn't want the pacifier or want to eat and you're like WHAT THE HECK BABY and then you notice that he's oozing poo all over your bedspread? Yeah, me either.

So anyway that's where I'm at. And it's not a totally horrible place to be in all things considered. Things could be a lot worse. (I could have an ugly baby. Now that would be a tragedy). Really though, I could not be more grateful for my sweet baby and for the amazing blessings that come from being a mother.

I do wish that I still loved to wear clothes the way I used to. And that I were comfortable wearing something other than my husband's basketball shorts and baggy tees. And I do hope that when Milo is looking beyond adorable in his new swimsuit that people don't wonder who the whale in men's board shorts is hanging out next to him. And I do hope that if this is the body I will have for the rest of my life (because I do want another 5ish kids) that I will learn to embrace it and dress it and enjoy the body I have. 

But for now, if you need me, I will be in the kitchen. Eating pizza.