Yesterday, I had a little pity party after looking at a few pictures of myself. I was shocked at what I saw because in my head I still look like I did when I was post baby #2 ( I lost all my baby weight fast after Maddie)! Anyways, after having a pity party, I started reading
Out of the Spin Cycle by Jen Hatmaker and realized just how silly I was being. Yes, I still have a lot of weight to lose and it is really coming off SLOW, but I will eventually return to a new normal for me. It would also help if I would STOP eating so much junk and cut my portions down, but that is for another post :) I thought I would share Jen's thoughts on this very topic for all my mom friends out there. Hope you enjoy!!
Those Are the Prunes
Every mom has a stack of books she's read to her children so many times that she could close her eyes and recite every page by memory. With these, you can't get away with turning four pages at once or skipping entire paragraphs...not that I've ever done that. Our family had several hall of famers: the Carl series,
Alligator Baby, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and all books by Shel Silverstein. (Just last week, Sydney called Caleb into her room to "Do devotionals together," and when I peeked in on this preciousness fifteen minutes later, they were reading their favorite poems from
Fall Up to each other. Well, it's a start.)
Anyhow, one book we read endlessly was
Everywhere Babies, which made me choke up while reading about every one in three times. Each page discussed one element of babyhood, in all its diversity. One said:
Every day, everywhere, babies are fed- by bottle, by breast, with cups, and with spoons, with milk and cereal, carrots, and prunes.
Little pencil drawings illustrated each feeding option, and Gavin-probably five at the time-unexposed to the term and taking his best guess, pointed to the nursing mother and said, "Those are the prunes."
Touche.
Childbirth and the human body combine as a formidable team, with definite collateral damage, When Caleb recently sauntered into the bathroom while I was getting ready and asked, "what are all those scratches on your stomach, Mom?" he was permanently uninvited from the bathroom scene.
I don't mean to shock you, doves, but our bodies change after childbirth. They really, really change. I sprouted curls in previously stick-straight hair, and my feet grew an entire shoe size by the third baby. I now walk around on skis. My hips have never returned exactly to their former address. I nursed three babies and need not mention what a mess that left. What used to be a smooth stomach now looks like a topographical map of France. And to top it all off, I can't jump on trampolines anymore without peeing in my pants.
Traditional Christian advice about this subject generally makes me feel violent. People, I am not standing naked in front of the mirror, quoting Scripture to my reflection. If this approach works for you, then by all means carry on. But it comes up short for me. It's like looking at a garden salad with fat-free dressing and saying, " I love you. I am thrilled to be eating you instead of a delicious burger with a side of beer-battered onion rings."
Because here is the deal: it is okay to be a little bummed out by your stretch marks and saggy situation. If you tell me you adore your new hypersensitive bladder and adult acne, I'm going to call you a liar and unfriend you on Facebook. Some of the bodily changes that come with childbirth stink, and I'm giving you permission to feel that way.
That said, I'm going back to something Jesus taught.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes.
Luke 12:22-23
Your body is more than clothes; it is also more than loose skin and bigger feet. Our bodies nourished babies and brought them into this world. (I'd like to see one man endure this-the human race would be extinct.) Our bodies run through our husbands' minds twenty times a day, wider hips notwithstanding. Our bodies deserve a prize for enduring the marathon of early childhood: lifting, carrying, bending, squatting, wrestling, holding, lugging, running, chasing, pushing, and rocking.
Our bodies have allowed us to experience the intimacy of marriage and the marvels of motherhood. They gave us a backstage pass to wonders like nursing and childbirth. They've worked hard, our bodies, and they deserve a little love.
My girlfriend heard a sermon by a husband-and-wife team on marriage, and the wife stated in front of thousands of people and a television audience: "If you weigh more than ten pounds over your wedding day weight, you need to go on a diet." I'm sure there were multiple hits taken out on her life.
Girls, we don't need to be within ten pounds of our pre-baby, twenty-something weight, but every woman knows she feels better when she is taking care of her body. Taking care means we are feeding our body food that will nourish it and protecting it from destructive habits. It means we care about health. My 93-year-old grandma, whose body is broken and collapsing from the inside-out, told me sadly: "If I'd known I was going to live this long, I would've taken much better care of myself."
This is my one and only body. This is the skin I will still be living in forty years from now. This heart is the one I'll be counting on; these hands are the same ones I'll use to hold grandbabies. It doesn't look the same as it did fifteen years ago, but that body was young and untested. This body, the one I'm living in now, is responsible for three beautiful children who now occupy this planet. It carried them, birthed them, and still had enough left over to raise them. I'm proud of it, even if I don't love all its aesthetics.
Your body is more than clothes. It is your friend and ally. It is the vessel that will carry you for the rest of your days, until you shed it for your permanent glory. In the meantime, treat it with the respect it deserves and the attention it requires. Granted, it's given you a boob situation you didn't ask for, but you once fed it Sonic for eight straight days after the restaurant's grand opening just up the street (oops). Let's call it even and declare a ceasefire.
Peace.
From
Devotions to Lighten Your Mother Load: out of the spin cycle by Jen Hatmaker
I love this little book! It really has helped me through some of my "Mommy" crisis moments!
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