It’s nothing new to have body-conscious new Moms obsess over pre-baby figures and growing waistlines. But the new term being bandied around- Momorexia- is rather disturbing to me.
Essentially, it’s when new mothers have unrealistic expectations of fitting into their [ahem] size 4 skinnies mere weeks after giving birth. And the “trend” of increasingly high profile celebrity births (when did having children become trendy? Hasn’t this been going on for an awfully long time?) doesn’t help matters any. Actresses who purportedly ate whatever they pleased. Didn’t have any trouble getting ready for action flicks months after childbirth. And with nary a fear of stretchmarks. Because- like model Miranda Kerr asserted- nothing mattered but the health of the baby. (And isn’t it always the genetically perfect folks asserting that it didn’t matter?)
It’s still a lovely sentiment. But I sure as heck wasn’t runway-ready immediately after the birth of my kid. (Still waitin’.)
Pregnancy is also a lovely time during which acquaintances and complete strangers alike feel the need to compare and contrast weights. Yours, theirs, and people they vaguely know. Milla Jovovich gained seventy pounds during her pregnancy. Alternately, my dentist’s wife gained seven pounds, as she didn’t understand why people had to get “huge.”
Setting aside for the moment the fact that women gain roughly ten pounds alone of blood and fluid during a healthy pregnancy, and too much or too little weight can be unhealthy for the fetus, no one really needs to comment on a healthy women’s pregnancy weight gain. Because, at the end of the day, you are growing a person. You will not look like a Seventeen cover model. Nor should you.
As multiple people told me during the course of my first pregnancy- Ten months of weight gain on, ten months off. And, irritatingly enough, that’s exactly how long it took me to lose the [ahem] forty pounds of Nora Weight.
But that’s not to say I took all of this practical knowledge laying down. (On my side.) I still wanted to look good. Or, at the very least, not like a bloated heifer. And during my second pregnancy, I’ve realized that the whole baby thing doesn’t make you crazy. It doesn’t give you Momorexia. It simply enhances the neuroses you’ve had since the sixth grade pool party where you wondered if green stripes made you look hippy.
As both a former actress and early bloomer, it was no shock that I was overly aware of my changing pregnancy figure. When debilitating first trimester nausea caused me to lose four pounds, I counted it as a silver living. (And immediately hated myself for it.) Once Nora came along, however, it all made sense. Sure, I got a little sick of the stretch pants, but I’d trade a bikini for the pleasure of motherhood any day.
A tankini suits me just fine.
Image: seanmcgrath
Isn’t it interesting and sad all at once that the one time you should be able to enjoy your body changing and growing AND not worry about weight gain, everyone has you worrying about the changes and weight gain. The truth is, as I see it, everyone is always worried if they are skinny enough, pretty enough and attractive enough. Our culture is bizarre in that emaciated is good looking, hence all the screwed up young girls and their fixation on food. Many others in different parts of the world consider a voluptuous woman as sexy and alluring. US marketing has us worried that if you can not see the rib cage, then you are perfect enough.
My advice, and I think you are on the right track, enjoy the changes and relax about the weight gain, a healthy baby is the goal and the skinny rat race is just around the corner.