I’m turning 34 this week and it occurs to me that I’ve basically spent more than half of my 30’s either pregnant or nursing. I’ve been feeling extra uncomfortable in my own skin lately and perhaps that is at least part of why: my skin hasn’t been my own for much of the last few years. I’ve been a gestating and nursing and carrying and cuddling and care taking for four years straight and I fear that I look like the stereotype of what I thought a frumpy mom looked like.
I try to like this current body, with the stretch marks and breasts that can only be contained in industrial strength bras, I really do but the truth is that I don’t want to look like this.
(Watching the Olympics isn’t helping. The abs. Good Lord, the abs.)
I pretty sure that I’m coming up on the end of nursing soon. I was hoping to go a bit longer but for whatever reason I have, with both kids, four months of abundant supply and then suddenly, for no obvious reason, I just stop producing. Last time I tried to save my supply with fenugreek and increased nursing but it didn’t seem to make a bit of difference.
This time I’m not even going to try. Things are busy at work, I’ll start traveling next month for work related things, I’ve got about six weeks of milk in the deep freezer…the babe will be fine and while I’ve got some mixed feelings about the end of nursing (forever!) I also feel a twinge of relief.
Like maybe now I can really invest in trying to reshape myself. Like I can start over, knowing that any efforts made to get more fit and more healthy won’t be interrupted by childbearing.
I may never have the abs of an Olympian but I can be better than this. Faster than this. Fitter than this.
Let’s get this started.