I stood in front of my mirror with my fitness clothes fitting snuggly to my body and I felt the tears threatening to spill over. At 7 months postpartum I saw breasts that were smaller and not as firm as they were a year ago, a belly that was soft and seemed bigger than my breasts, arms that swayed when I waved good-bye, and a waist that wasn’t as trim as I remembered it once was. I saw a body that was unfamiliar as the laugh lines hugging my eyes.

I wanted to fight and teardown the body staring back at me. I felt hatred towards the body that housed and grew a precious baby for so many months, that made me soft and squishy all over.

I quickly spiralled into negative thoughts about how fluffy and fat I was. How I had ‘let myself go’ and I would never obtain my pre-baby body so what was the point in working on it.

The image staring back at me wasn’t even my true body, it was smoothed over by my fitness clothes so my lumps weren’t even showing through to the fullness that they actually are.

I broke down and finally cried.

I had a beautiful baby to live for every single day, but pregnancy and post pregnancy body were nothing like I imagined it would be. Where was my Kate Middleton body and the beautiful Isla Fisher hair?!

The truth of the matter is that I’ve allowed myself to be completely swept up in my new role as a mother that fitness and scheduling time for me has become a task at the bottom of my to-do list. I constantly compare my fitness skills to where they were prior to becoming pregnant and hate that I can’t squat like I used to or lift the same amount of weights. Don’t even ask me about running, my hips are still fighting it, I walk a molasses pace.

At 7 months postpartum I’m still learning to accept my new body, to find clothes that fit the fluffier me, while also working on eating better and taking more care of myself instead of always giving. My hormones are still balancing themselves, and I know this because crying over my body has never been something I’ve done in the past, it took a lot to make me cry. Now I cry. A lot.

At 7 months postpartum I’ve fallen even more in love with Mister that I’ve never known to be possible, but I’ve also lost my temper more than I have in the past due to not sleeping as deeply as I once did. I am constantly saying “I love you, and I’m so sorry”.

At 7 months postpartum I have a daughter who has taken up my whole world that I finally understand what it means to loose yourself in your child. I have an identity outside of her, but I feel more confident when she is with me. She gives me more reasons to smile and be proud of who I am.

At 7 months postpartum I feel the love that is being etched on my heart become deeper every day, how I struggle to want space but never want to leave their sides. How I long to stop time but also enjoy the moment, while also dreaming of her future.

At 7 months postpartum I realize that everything is just as it should be, and it’s imperfectly beautiful. Fluffy body and all.

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