I was reading fellow coach Jeannette Maw’s blog post about her belly spell this week (The belly spell really cracked me up! Soooo funny! I love Jeannette!) and it inspired this post. I have struggled for many years—my entire life, actually—with body image issues. I can remember clearly when I first started disliking my body. I was ten years old, just beginning those pre-teen, puberty-ridden years, and I saw a video of myself. I was horrified. From that day on, I fought with my body.
I do not have a traditional model body. I am not tall and thin. I am of medium height and muscular build. I tend to look fit and athletic when my body and I are getting along, but I do not weigh in at a featherweight number, ever. When I was struggling with overeating, emotional eating, and severe body dislike, my weight went up near the two-hundred pound mark.
I’ve since returned to my body’s natural weight, but even after the experience of actually being overweight, I struggled to like my body. I kept thinking it should look like the “ideal.” Yet, even when I went on strict diets, my body would drop maybe two to five pounds below my natural weight and then I would get sick. It was clearly a fight that simply didn’t need to be fought. My body is perfectly happy weighing 143 pounds. It is my mind that argues with that.
Much of my personal mind-body work has been directed at this body image issue. I longed to love my body instead of fight my body. For many years, I thought this meant I had to change my body. Then I realized I had to change my relationship with it instead. I had to connect to it, learn to live in it, learn to listen to it, learn to feel my emotions, and recognize mind-stories that weren’t serving me. (Like “I should look like a model.”)
I started to see that stressing about my weight and body was one of my biggest ways to run from my emotions and avoid facing feeling them. It was what I call a decoy—something that successfully occupies me so I simply have no attention left for my emotions. All of this self-awareness combined started to help me love my body more and more. I didn’t love it every day, but I was tipping the balance way more to the love side.
Then, something happened. In January this year, I got pregnant. I was so excited, and so very ready to embark on the motherhood journey. I was excited to experience the changes in my body and the magic of growing a baby in my belly. Like Jeannette, I’ve often wished for a flatter belly, but I was willing to let it expand to hold a new little one inside me.
It was a little disconcerting to notice my jeans fitting more snugly. At only six weeks pregnant, I started to feel somewhat puffy. Then at eight weeks, there were some clothing items that were downright stretched. At nine weeks, I was pretty sure I’d need some new clothes soon, and the waistband of my favorite jeans was uncomfortably tight. I could feel my backside expanding, too. While I understood it was necessary, I admit to a wince or two after glancing over my shoulder into the mirror.
At nine and half weeks, I miscarried.
The shock was unbelievable. The grief was overwhelming. The physical pain was tiring. I felt empty in my belly, lost in my heart, and just . . . sad. I was so ready to be a mom. It felt like there was a hole in that mom-space I’d created, both internally and externally. My body was tired and aching, my mind confused, and my emotions strong.
