Baby fat and stuff.

Unbeknownst to me, a few days ago my hubby was shooting a video of the kids doing what they do (being daredevils while simultaneously screaming and fighting) while I was waltzing into the living room to pick out some clothes. I had flat-iron curled my hair and spent a lot of time on my make-up and was just generally trying to look presentable since I knew pictures would be taken (Sweet Treats Day).  I don't feel great about my weight, but I have at least lost a few pounds in the last two weeks and thought I looked somewhat okay.

Until the video surfaced.

Ugh.

Someone stuff me in a closet until I can lose 20 pounds.

The first ten minutes after watching this, I wanted to cry.  I mean, like I said, I knew I was carrying baby poundage still (I've made it no secret that I have never had such a hard time losing baby weight).  I knew I needed to lose weight still.  I knew I wasn't happy with my body.

But watching this video, I was flooded with a whole lot of emotion.  I felt totally disgusting.  Am I the only girl this happens to?  I'm sure not.  Does the camera *really* add ten pounds?  God, I hope so.  Why did my hair look so crappy?  I hate my nose.

Etc.

Etc.

Etc.

I went to bed praying on it.  See, I went on a diet right after I had Ben.  Literally the week I had him.  And from then on, I always struggled with my milk supply.  By seven months, I had nothing left and Ben was on formula full-time and I was devastated.  When I had Adalyn, I vowed not to diet.  Eventually I succumbed and I did.  I dieted.  For a whopping month or so, I counted every calorie and I managed to lose a little weight.  But I saw my milk supply drop so I immediately quit.  I made it to seven months with her, too, when I found myself pregnant again.  And though my milk supply had been enough up until that point, it immediately vanished when I got pregnant.  So once again, my next child was on formula full-time by seven months (and it did not go well...at all).

This time I said it would be different.  Again.  I would not diet.  I would not get pregnant (ha).  Landon would never get a single drop of formula.  So far, so good.  But if I spend my time staring at videos and pictures of this postpartum body, I won't make it.  If I focus on how fat I am and how disgusting I feel, I won't make it.  I'll end up doing what I do, start depriving myself of food, strictly monitoring my calories and I'll end up in the same boat, feeding my child formula because my milk supply has tanked.

Some women are lucky.  They have a baby and a month later they're skinny.  Or they have a baby and they have no problems dieting and breastfeeding.  Or they have a baby and nursing burns so many calories that they lose all their baby weight and then some.  I could spend my days focusing on the unfairness of the situation.  I could.  I want to.  But what good is that going to do me?

I'm not naturally skinny.  I'm not a milk machine.  I have to work hard to be skinny and I have to work hard to maintain my milk supply.  It's not a comfortable thing to admit that.  It's embarrassing.  In ways, I measure myself by my abilities to sustain my children.  We all have our struggles, and getting hung up on the unfairness of those struggles won't solve anything.  Because while we all have our struggles, we all have our blessings, too, and those are the things that can get us through our struggles if we choose to focus on them instead.

I get pregnant easily, and I thank God for that.  This body was meant to have children.  My husband looks at me and boom, we're expecting another child.  But for some bizarre reason, while I am able to bear children easily and I am able to birth them without any issues, I am not able to feed those children easily.  It is by the grace of God that my children were even able to be sustained by me until seven months and it is by the grace of God that Landon hasn't had to have formula thus far.

But if I get wrapped up in my self-loathing instead of focusing on the beautiful gift of nursing my child, I won't be sustaining this child even until seven months.  If I allow myself to place the priorities of my self esteem above the priorities of nurturing my children, I will never forgive myself for it.

This morning, I woke up renewed.  I felt pulled to put my heart out there.  And more importantly, to put this video out there.  It's my way of saying, hey, this is me right now.  I don't love the me I see in the mirror or in videos.  I don't love my fat rolls or my stretch marks or the fact that I had to go buy all new clothes to fit into something.  But this is me saying that my baby is the most important thing to me right now.  And for him, I will keep this blubber right where it apparently needs to be for my body to produce milk.

I post only pictures of myself that look like this so that nobody who doesn't know me in person knows that I'm...thick.



But that's not fair.  And how does that help anyone else?  I see myself looking at blogs, feeling that jealousy in the pit of my stomach at some woman who just had a baby looking all skinny.  But then I realized I do the same thing.  I just put the "fake" me out there for the world to see, like I somehow just snapped right back into shape after having Landon.

I haven't.  Far from it.  This is the real me.



And for once, I'm trying to be completely accepting of the real me.  Trying being the operative word here, but I'm a work in progress.  When I lose weight, I lose my milk.  Therefore I have to surmise that for me, I actually have to carry this weight to maintain my milk.  Maybe my body is "broken," maybe not.  Either way, I am committing, right here, today, that I will stop complaining about my fat, that I will stop complaining about my stretch marks and that I will learn to love the body that gave me the three amazing blessings I have in my life.  And I will learn to thank the God who gave me the body that gave me these blessings instead of whine about the gift He gave me.

When my children whine about something after we've done something for them ("I don't want to go home yet," "I want to do that again!", "That movie wasn't long enough," etc.), it is extremely challenging to handle.  I feel like they're being so ungrateful.  But what am I being when I whine about this body God gave me?  He gave me children!  He allowed me to have three successful pregnancies, three easy labors and three beautiful children and all I can do is lament my horrible body I have as a result.  How ungrateful am I?!

Today, I am choosing gratefulness, and I am choosing to sustain my child until he's ready to wean.