I’ve always been aware of the sometimes ridiculous expectations I place on my body. When I was younger, it was wishing that I was a super athlete, versus a bench warmer that has literally fallen down crossing the street. As a teenager, it was pleading for puberty to finally complete its task of making me Baywatch worthy. But those expectations, while maybe natural for that age, were also just a piece of the negative mindset I carried towards my body. I’m embarrassed to share that I showed it little love and I felt it had never quite measured up.
After becoming a mother I started to see my body’s strength. I felt strong during my 3 pregnancies and I felt pride in my ability to birth them all naturally. I was just so amazed that the human body is capable of creating such a perfect little being. If I could set images to this feeling, a cape would sprout out of the top of my shoulders and flow behind me like a superhero. As I learned Pilates and became more connected to my body, I started to like it even better. I felt surprised by my body’s ability to learn and change.
And yet, it wasn’t until recently, that I really connected to the negative mindset towards my body. I was unaware of the dysfunctional relationship we have. My efforts to take good care of my body mask the internal verbal abuse hiding underneath. My frustration with back pain, gut dysbiosis or just general aging plays like a moody stream of consciousness in the background. When I catch that snarky inner dialogue I attempt to calm it and work to flip its perspective. Gratitude for all my body has done for me always helps shift the tone. But, something deeper needed to be addressed.
I was reminiscing about all the many Mama experiences I have had over the last 14+ years. I’d giggle at the funny memories and feel my shoulders tense at the challenging ones. I know all Moms could write an entire series that even challenges the Harry Potter empire with all our stories and experiences. For some reason, as I’m leafing through the files of thoughts, my mind jumps to my first pregnancy and the day we received the news about my son’s kidney. That’s when I see it! I see the inner dialogue; the reprimanding and disappointed voice aimed at my body. The realization saddens me and I realize I owe an apology to my body. For some reason, I wanted to write it a letter. So here it goes:
Dear Body,
I see it now. It was a memory from over 14 years ago, when you were working so hard to cradle my son, that helped me really see.
I remember thinking it was going to be hard to get pregnant. I don’t know where that thought seated itself in my mind but I just assumed. So when I got pregnant right away I was elated. As if we really have control over the process, I felt my ego puff up a bit. I felt so much excitement. And then all of a sudden, I walked straight into the wall of reality. I clearly remember at 20 weeks pregnant and roughly a week before Christmas sitting in the mid-wife’s office feeling hopeful. Now looking back at the memory, I seem so naive. The mid-wife is talking quickly in a nonchalant way and then suddenly I’m confused. She just said something about my baby’s kidney. “Wait, what?”. She looks at us as if we should already know this information. She continues to rattle off information as if it’s completely normal to tell a first time parent that their baby has something wrong with its kidney. There is no hand holding, no look of compassion, or gentle easing of the information. She drops it like a bomb in our laps. She starts ordering a sonogram for the following day and I am so shocked, so confused that I tell her, “I can’t tomorrow. We’re flying to the States to celebrate Christmas with my family”. She looks at me and tilts her chin up and to the side. And there it is, my first introduction into mom shaming. Wow! I haven’t even given birth and I’m already doing it wrong. I can’t even remember the rest of the conversation. It all passes by in a hazy fog. What I do remember is stepping outside the office into the cloudy and overcast day. My husband pulls me to him and I say, “I’m sorry!” as I crumble into a shaking and crying mess. The rest of the pregnancy is filled with anxiety wrestling with excitement. But, that specific moment is etched in my brain.
That was it! That was the weight that I have carried for so long. “I’m sorry”. I thought I only had one job. I just had to create a perfectly healthy baby and bring it into this world safely. And I failed. Before I even knew my son’s name, or what he looked like, I failed him. I remember Dave being so confused. He didn’t understand why I kept apologizing. I wasn’t aware of it then, but now I see the enormous expectation I placed on you, body. In that moment, I remember feeling like you had failed me, let me down. I remember feeling angry, sad and so empty. I placed blame and disappointment.
Now, in this moment, I want to shift the tone. Today, I want to say, to my beautiful body, I am so sorry. I’ve seen you birth that little boy and his 2 brothers. I’ve seen you nurse them and hold them. I see how you carry me through this life and how hard you work each day. And, I thank you. I love you, honor you and embrace you for how you are today and how you will be as time passes. I commit to seeing you and cherishing you as long as I can. I know I will still have days where I judge you or get frustrated with you, but know that I see you and know what a perfectly imperfect vessel you have been for me.
With my love,
Alexie
Writing a letter to your body might seem strange. But, being that we all subconsciously talk to our bodies, I didn’t think sending it correspondence was that much of a stretch. What I share here is very personal, but I hope for those that have experienced difficulties with their pregnancies, weight, or overall health that it allows you to take a look at your own relationship with your body. I encourage you to love your body. Your body is beautiful, your body is strong and your body has been in service to you since the beginning of your existence. Treat your body like you would a dear friend, with kindness, love, compassion and affection.