If you follow me on Instagram, you’ll have already read a short snippet of how I’ve been lately. I wouldn’t say I am struggling, exactly, but I can definitely say I am not thriving. I’ve been stuck in a lack of desire to do anything – get dressed, clean, play, go out, whatever – and I am not sure if it’s end-of-winter blues, or postpartum depression, or other things that I will get to shortly.
Whatever it is, though, I have been realizing more and more how much I need quiet time, prayer, and God. I’ve never been very good at consistent bible reading, but I’ve found myself aching to read more and more these days. Which makes me so happy; I always wondered if somehow I was a bad Christian because I have never felt that life-changing moment that so many people profess; that “and then my love for God just blossomed and there were fireworks!” time of life… hasn’t gotten to me.
Much like my love for my husband never had the fireworks and stomach tingles and butterflies, I think my relationship with and love for God is a slow and steady thing, perhaps inconsistent on my part, but ever faithful on His. I have taken to placing my bible on top of my computer to remind myself what is most important in life.
But, I know that my current blahs also have to do with this postpartum body, and weight. I have always been a huge advocate for confidence at any size, whether you feel you want to lose or gain weight, whether you’re curvy or thin. Find a way to dress yourself so you feel good, and rock the body you’re in.
Yet, I find myself often glancing at the body I’m in right now, and feeling sad. With Asa, I lost the baby weight in 12 days, just breastfeeding and eating fairly healthy. But with Evie, I lost a few pounds and then gained a few pounds, and have stayed the same weight for six months. And it’s not a weight I am happy with. I am at the heaviest I have ever been (while not pregnant), and it gets to me. It gets to me when I see the belly that people have assumed was a pregnant one. It gets to me when my favorite skirts and dresses don’t fit. It gets to me when I grab a size up from my normal jean size, and find that I need to go up again.
Even while knowing that sometimes, the weight hangs on until the baby is done breastfeeding, it gets to me. Even while I can still be confident and feel beautiful, it gets to me.
So I am currently in the second week of a Whole30, which has been an entirely new struggle in itself (it’s so much harder the second time around), and I am working on finding garments that fit, and packing away the ones that don’t.
For some people, it works to have a dress out that is the size they wish to be. It’s motivation, or encouragement, or whatever else it might do to help them stick to their goals. For me, that doesn’t work. I just get semi-depressed, and want to sink into my comfort foods while playing sad songs (okay, not really, but you get the idea. 😉 )
It’s so interesting to me how different this second postartum experience has been from my first. In one woman, you can have two vastly different outcomes. Which is why I am still surprised when people assume that all pregnancies and all bodies are alike. I always want to ask “Um, have you ever been pregnant? Were they all the same?” because… guys.
Everything vintage and/or thrifted
Anyway! I hope I didn’t come off as too depressed, because really… I mean, yeah, I don’t like the weight I am at right now, and I haven’t had the motivation to do much this last week (except dive into lifestyle videos, which you should totally watch), but I am still fairly happy. Life is pretty good. My kids are cute. Y’know.
I hope you are all having a great start to your week!