My Crawling Mirror

As I wrote yesterday, my body has been transformed by pregnancy and childbirth. In some weird ways and some good ways.

There are days when I get bummed out about this. My insecurities get the better of me and I fall into the body image depths of despair. I start to critique all of my features. I start to wonder how others view me. Do they see the same flaws that I do?

A few weeks ago I was in the company of a few women who had recently had children. The topic of breasts came up and one by one they each stated they have plans to get a breast lift once they are done have children and breastfeeding. They all said it so casually, as though they were ordering a vanilla latte at the coffee shop. My eyes sort of grew wide and I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't know this was a thing. Like a pretty common thing, apparently.

That night I Googled common plastic surgeries after childbirth. Here is what came up:

• Mastopexy - breast lift
• Abdominoplasty - tummy tuck
• Umbilicoplasty - belly button surgery
• Liposuction - get rid of the fat

So many options! How does one decide?

I'll admit, there are days when I'd love a little plastic surgery to touch up some of those rough areas.

But then I look at my daughter. And I realize that all of my decisions impact her. What does it say to her when I get caught in a shame-spiral of  critiquing my body? What kind of an impression will I make on her if I'm constantly criticizing myself for this body that carried a child and bore life? 

I know that body image issues are a vicious cycle, passed down from generation to generation. Yes, we're slammed by the media with images of super skinny women with flawless skin and incredible hair. We see celebrity mamas who look terrific just weeks after giving birth. But even more detrimental than the media is when we hear our own mamas and aunts and teachers and neighbors talk about how ugly they feel and how they hate certain parts of their bodies. 

I don't want that for my daughter. I don't want her to hear me talk down about myself and then turn and do the same to herself. I want her to feel proud of her body and see it as an incredible gift. I want her to be courageous and strong, not insecure and self-hating. 

When my 6 month old daughter looks at me, she doesn't see an ugly pooch of skin and fat hanging over my C-section scar. She sees this wonderful platform on which she can stand and be able to look into my eyes. We have some entertaining conversations while she stands on that C-shelf, and sometimes I imagine her doing a dance on it. In my daydream she has a top hat and tap shoes.

I'm thankful for this crawling mirror, who keeps me in check and reminds me of the important things.