I’m feeling lately like I need to give my body I bit of love. So often in my past and ok, occasionally in the past week of waiting, I found myself thinking “why can’t my stupid body just work like it should?” “why can’t I get pregnant with ease like other women my age?”
But what this diet and last couple of months has taught me is that I need to take care of my body. Get back to being myself, centered, eat great things, exercise, feed it well. It may not be perfectly proportioned but it is tall, strong, healthy and capable.
This body has carried me through a half-decade journey of family building attempts. Through good and bad times, through a successful pregnancy and unsuccessful ones. One foot in front of the other it has kept moving, though it has been bombarded with fertility medications, synthetic hormones, loss, grief, and pregnancy again. It bounced back after an ecoptic pregnancy and a miscarriage and kept going.
It eventually got pregnant without help and sustained another life for 9 months. Supported my son as he grew and thrived, until he was ready to come out. After he was born, it nourished him for another year-plus through breastfeeding.
I pushed it to carry me further to look stronger and leaner while running long distances this summer and I felt it become mine again. Mile after mile, it amazed me. It became stronger and I felt with each pounding of the pavement, that this body is amazing and reacting just as it should. Becoming stronger with each step and each run.
It feels like not only have I reclaimed my body, but it’s mine for the first time. I don’t care that it’s not perfect. While I was growing up, I was too insecure to see it for anything else than what others told me it was, waiting and fishing for a compliments from the opposite sex. I still enjoy the compliments from my husband, of course (who doesn’t ;)). this is me. This body no longer belongs to my child, it’s not here to excite men or entice them, it is mine and mine alone. I take care of it, feed it well, I am kind to it. I exercise. It continues to carry me through it all and aches to move forward. It carries me and my 30 plus pound of a hulk child wherever we need to go.
I am at peace with my body. It is not perfect, but it is strong and beautiful. It no longer feels broken or shameful, or that it has failed me. I am proud of it. It has carried me through this long road. It tolerated the long and torturous IVF process well. I am finally confident and comfortable in my own skin. Maybe it’s a part of growing up since I am nearly 30. Maybe it’s a part of this journey, making peace with the lot you’ve been dealt and pride in how your respond to it. I don’t see this as vain or provocative it’s not about being attractive or pretty, it’s just being comfortable with who I am and what my body is capable of. Today, I am, and on the heels of an IVF cycle and still not knowing the outcome (no I have not POAS), I think that’s something pretty amazing.