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05/28/2009
Femme nue avec fromage, c. 2008
I know childbearing changes women's bodies. I knew it would affect mine, even beyond the changes infertility itself incurred. (Mushy white laparoscopy scars? Check. Persistent painful ass lumps from progesterone shots? Check. Fibrous wodge of scar tissue in the bend of each elbow from blood draw after blood draw? Check. Line forms to the left, fellas, for anyone itching to cop a feel. You know you want to. Don't be shy. Palpaaaaate meeeeeee.)
I volunteered for pregnancy, after all — ha, understatement; I did the equivalent of blowing one half of the selection committee and blackmailing the other — and was willing to pay the physical price. Most of the changes to my body didn't occur until Ben; for some reason I got off easy with Charlie, if you ignore my body's brief but passionate antepartum interest in bucket-kicking.
I am not especially troubled by most of it. My bra size is back to normal — humming the alphabet song in illustration, and scatting artfully a few notes in, if that gives you any clues — and when I am clothed (read: shored up by the several flying buttresses of the Wacoal 85185) my breasts look as firm and youthful as ever. (That is to say not very, but then a rack of these dimensions doesn't exactly call to mind visions of sylphlike ballerinas and unholstered gamboling nymphets. Think sturdy lactating peasant and you're more in the general ballpark. But a well-contained sturdy lactating peasant.) Unclothed, I resemble something you would see in a glass case at the Museum of Natural History. I will not blame you for hustling your children by quickly. But then you probably don't want them to see my caveman spouse's Australopithecal wang, either.
But I expected those changes. That's normal, after all. So are the varicose veins that lace my right leg from knee to ankle. They don't hurt; they're merely unsightly. I like to think they make me look a little like one of the X-Men, like when Jean Grey went all batshit evil. Since this is the only way in which I could ever be supposed to bear any kind of resemblance to Famke Janssen, I'm okay with that. (My awesome mutant superpower is developing life-threatening blood clots. Oh, it's kind of self-defeating, I suppose, but you work with what you got.)
And I am only slightly dismayed by the fact that while I am down to my prepregnancy weight, even my pre-cycling weight, that weight seems to have redistributed itself. I am not exactly sure what's thinner, but something has to be, because I have a greater tendency now to hold on to mass around my midsection. You know how our body shapes are said to tend toward either apple — weight around the belly — or pear — weight around the hips and thighs? I am an apple. I am a fruit bowl. I am an entire goddamn orchard, if you want to know the truth. In spring I positively swarm with bees. But, again, this isn't exactly a problem, unless I ever want to purchase an article of clothing that is fashionable, flatters me, and fits properly.
But, really, all these things are okay. I am grateful, and I am not especially vain, and I am especially lazy, so I find acceptance very easy. Stretch marks, fine. I think of them as racing stripes. Permanent changes to my nipples, fine. Useful adaptations for nursing, even though neither of my children would be able to pick them out from a police lineup. ("Number three, step forward...now put on the ski mask...and the wig...and the Groucho glasses...and the scary latex Nixon mask...Yes, that's her!") Even the C-section scar I have is fine, considering that not a year ago somebody made a swift seven-inch slash in my abdomen and withdrew from it an entire new person. Funny thing about that, though. When I told the nurses which doctor was slated to perform the surgery, every single one told me how lucky I was. "He's an artist," one of them cooed, speaking of his virtuoso skill. Yes. She cooed. (Nurses, don't ever do this. It creeps your patient out.)
Which, I mean, I don't know. Maybe he is an artist. Maybe creative caprice is the reason for the only postpartum change that truly unnerves me, the weird subcutaneous blob that now resides on the left side of my abdomen, three inches southeast of my navel. It's soft and kind of wobbly, a noticeable asymmetrical protrusion where nothing stuck out before. If the doctor is an artist, he is a sculptor, and he works in human fat. Or maybe in washed-rind cheese. And in my educated opinion, he does the kind of work that makes jerks in museums scoff and say, "Oh, sure, that's art. My kid could do that."
Of course, if I can't blame the doctor, I guess I have to accept that in an indirect way, my kid did do that. Suddenly my eye is newly informed and I'm seeing that bulging fist of cheese in a more appreciative light. Why, it challenges what we thought we knew about, uh, tangerine-sized clumps of fat. Insistently it prods us to reexamine our aesthetic relationship to an unsightly gob of blubber. It occupies the space, long believed merely philosophical, where beauty and suet collide. With the advent of this seminal work, adipose tissue serves no longer as simply a loose connective mesh of fat cells, but as a ringing indictment against — oh, let's just say man's inhumanity to man. "Within my indistinct margins," the work seems to whisper, "can be found a shrine to the human spirit, in all its courage and its frailty. And also a ham croquette."
My son the artist. He's some kind of fucking prodigy.
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I could have written this post myself, except not nearly as well, of course. I am redistributed-weight apple big-time over here, and it is SO hard to find good tunic-style tops.
you only blew half the committee? Julie. tsk. I'm disappointed. I thought you WANTED a child.
...seriously though great post :)
I hear you.
* Breasts I can roll up and fold into bra cups, like two fleshy socks? Check.
* Nipples that think South is the New Black? Check.
* A diastasis you could drive a mining truck through? Also Check. Incidentally, want to see peristalsis in action? Knock yourself out ladies and gents, there ain't no muscle in the middle any more..
* A c-section scar that is wierdly halfway through my pubes, giving me a rather festive double-fur pattern? They're all the rage this season, so why-not, check.
* A fanny you could park a truck in? Nope. See item above re:c-section and add transverse-to-breech twin two and not interested in ANYBODY with a glove up to their elbow extracting her.
:)
Oh, and last item:
*Healthy twins. Check.
Makes the rest of it insignificant....
Here's one for you: after my first pregnancy, I wound up with a lump right below my sternum. A medical aquaintance tells me that everyone has this, but usually you can't feel it, it's buried too deep. She figures that all the re-arranging of internal organs caused it to pop out, and it's never gone back.
Snort!
My children have collectively gifted me with 55 or so lbs of (I am sure) artistic and multifaceted energy-storing tissue. Yes, fat. I've called in reinforcements (General Metformin is a sweety and a good friend). So we are now down to 55 extra lbs. The reason the line of fellas by your booth is not as long as you expected? They're all lining up by mine. Cause you know everyone wants some of this. Blergh.
You know, it won't be long till Ben goes nuclear... I mean verbal. Are you thinking of asking him for the artist statement then? Or is he one of those creative geniuses who never tells?
I have a friend whose build borders on the waifish. She had one kid and wound up with an unformed globbiness in the lower abdomen, but not so lower that it doesn't expose itself above lowish-rise pants. She calls it "C-section belly," which is an apt term but lacks a certain poetry.
Hers is a flattish globbiness with underlying lumpiness. Me, I have a smoother globbiness, a more pronounced lump on the right side with less cheese to it.
My incision is only about 5" wide, one advantage of not going to term. The nurses oohed and aahed over my incision, which, yes, was weird. Let's hear less praise for the surgeon's incision and more suggestions that he trim his nose hair, m'kay?
I'm scared.
Forget procreation, hand me a test tube.
I think I'm hungry now.
deep Weird asymmetrical protrusion? At the edge of a surgical scar? Uh-oh. You're sure you're not dealing with a ventral hernia?
hmmm, I haven't even had kids yet, and I feel as if you were describing my own chest. Their names are Europe and Asia, and in their own torpedo shaped cages, they salute you! Great post!
Apparently I have a 'very pretty' scar. This is what another doctor told me. Oh, and I'm with Orange. Just over 5".
Is it just me, or did anybody else's errant trailing hair above the scar just up and fucking die afterwards?
I looked down at that a month postpartum and said "...the hell? What was that, the most expensive and unpleasant hair removal technique EVER?"
My post-children breasts don't look like fleshy socks. They look like socks. Since my ribs became much wider (term twins), I can't find a fitting bra.
My weight is normal, but I am much much thinner. And I am taking SSRI (psych med) to try and recover from the long-range effect of three sleepless years.
I don't have a scar, nor stretch marks. But my feet went up two sizes.
The stomach weight is the worst. I actually weigh less than my pregnancy weight, and yet, I have a spare tire around my midsection. But lest you think that is all I have to worry about, I also have wide hips, that were only made wider by my last pregnancy, despite it's end in an emergency c-section (for some reason Nick decide that womb acrobatics were a great idea and tied a knot in the umbilical cord, which resulted in loss of oxygen every time I contracted).
My stretch marks are nearly invisible, but my scar bothers me. Due to the emergency nature of my c-section it's too high, so it's difficult to find non-granny-panty undies, let alone a two-piece bathing suit that covers it.
My mom calls that little post baby patch of fat padding a pootch. Kinda like hooch. Yeah, makes you want to drink, doesn't it?
I think of the stretch marks as tattoos. Telling the world (if I ever let them see them) that "Hey, I actually gave birth to children - yes, me with the PCOS".
Speaking of c-sections, I'm looking down the nose at one right now (not willingly) and am wondering - do you think they'd take a picture of my uterus for me? 'Cause that would be cool.
Gah, no kidding. I had my son around the same time as you (8/20/08) and while it's a relief to be back at my pre-baby weight, you're so right about the redistribution. Annoying! Nothing like 1000 sit-ups a day wouldn't cure, but like, who has time (or the will) for situps. Not me. Unless sit-ups would help the baby go to sleep each night - then I'd TOTALLY do them.
At my last OB appointment she commented that my C-section scar was small and asked me again how big my son was at birth. Since she delivered him and made the incision that she spoke of, it felt a little self-congratulatory :)
I went down to my prepregnancy size but my feet got wider. Nice, have a baby and no shoes...gotta love it!
My four-year-old slapped his father on the butt this morning and said, 'you have a small bum'. Then he turned to me and thanked me for staying 'squishy' after his little brother was born (a year ago). His father just quietly backed out the door.
"Sturdy Lactating Peasant" made me snort laughing. You are so funny!
akeeyu - Yes, I too had the most-expensive, most-painful permanent hair removal technique ever. The hairs would just sort of hang on there until you pulled them and then they all came out. Shortly post-c-section I also used to get ingrown hairs at the incision, but since all the hair follicles died, that's not a problem any more.
My incision top-to-bottm does not line up perfectly so it's a little tight on the right and there is some extra stuff all kind of grouped together on the left like someone putting me back together realized half-way through that they needed to make up some slack or something.
I can't decide which is funnier today: the post or its comments. I keep snorting mac & cheese (ow!) as I read.
Sheesh, you'd think I'd've learned after 5 years...eating and drinking while reading this blog is not a good idea.
I had a third degree episiotomy/torn extension with the birth of my first daughter. The doctor finished sewing me up, sat back, looked at the nurse and my husband, and said, "Look at that work of art!" My husband actually looked, too. I thought it was pretty comical.
I had a c-section with my second daughter, and I still have a bit of surgical glue embedded in my skin, almost 4 years later. The skin just grew up around it, I guess.
Oh, that lump! I have that. I asked an OB about it a few days postpartum because I was afraid it was a hernia. This is what he said - when you are cut up, they do it in layers, not just 1 giant gash straight to the babe. They also sew you up in layers. To facilitate a strong closure (esp for women who anticipate another pregnancy - you don't want the uterus to rupture at the scar!), they overlap the layers rather than butting them together. Hence the lumpiness.
He predicted that tissue remodeling over time would smooth it out. FWIW, it's been nearly a year since my C-section, and I can still feel it - big and wobbly and kind of firm.
I was never what you'd call a perky-bosom'd gal, but these days I have to bend over, scoop them up, and artfully arrange them into their sturdy steel-and-padding ugly-bra enclosures, so that they do not rest on my knees while I sit.
The only thing I can say about the c-section pooch and sagged belly skin is that it's sort of fun to smoosh it all up into a massive handful so it appears to be a giant wrinkled asshole and then make it "talk" by squeezing it: "Hi! I'm Spencer Pratt!"
I had that, albeit a slightly smaller version. I also had a just general lumpiness on the scar. It hurt like hell at first, and someone recommended I try laser therapy to soften the scar tissue faster so I wouldn't be so bent over and in pain.
And it works. Lessens the pain and makes the tissue less lumpy underneath. Fades and minimizes the scar a hell of a lot too.
It doesn't do it all, really I'll never look like a skinny ol' supermodel, (not that I ever did, haha), but it's amazing what they can do with laser therapy and ultrasound to break up fat lumps and things like retin A. Cheap and non-surgical.
And after the crash c-section that wrecked my abdomen, I needed a little more help than most I think? Worth it anyway. I'm going back for more soon!
Here's one you never seem to hear about - I never had a cavity in my entire 36 years before I got pregnant. Can't even count how many I've had since. And of course there's the diabetes, though that probably would've happened anyway.
Not to be a downer, but the apple shape is associated with heart disease, especially problematic considering your gestational diabetes. Do keep an eye on your blood sugars.
Its amazing what we are willing to subject ourselves to for our progeny
My daughter will be 9 months old in a couple of weeks, and I'm still 5 pounds above pre-pregnancy, and 15 above where I should be. I have neither the motivation or the time to do anything physical to hasten the loss of those pounds.
My hips are wider, though I was told by at least one practitioner before I ever got pregnant that they were "definitely child bearing hips". And my feet are wider, and a little longer. And I got my first cavity ever after having the baby.
Kids! Sheesh..... ;)
our little dumpling is only 3 months, so i'm still waiting to see where everything is going to settle. (except the nipples. dear god, what's happening to those?)
but right now, i feel the need to say:
Australopithecal wang.
heh.
(please forgive me - i really, really need some sleep.)
I never got to give birth, so I find myself gazing longingly at women with bodies that announce that they have. It is the ultimate primal expression of womanhood! Unfortunately, I have the same ugly c-section scar but it was only for my fibroid tumor surgery. I kept waiting to have it fixed until after my c-section which never happened, so now I just live with a pooch.
Thank-you June for explaining that. I'm slim and had all sorts of lumps and bumps under the skin after my c-section. They have pretty much gone (5 years later) so happened pretty much as you said.
I've ended up with what seems like a permanent bit of muffin top that was never there before and is only on one side. I didn't have it after my first c-section, but even since the second...there it is and it refuses to budge. Some days I'm tempted to attack it with a Hoover and see if that helps! I'd also like to know when low rise jeans are finally going to go out of style again, I suspect that would work wonders.
Three big cheers for the use of the word "suet". I didn't know what suet was until last Christmas when my Grandmother explained exactly what was in that pudding we all loved so much.
Isn't that the only way to eat cheese?
I also had those "lumps" in the scar of my C-section, but my Doctor prescribed a cream and told me to use it for 6 months and the lumps are gone.
Unfortunately it was 2 years ago and I don't remember the name of the thing anymore. Anyway, either my doctor was really an artist, or I risk uterine rupture in the next pregnancy, because the scar (although HUGE) is so even, thin and smooth that I don't notice it anymore. But then, each country has its differences while dealing with c-section births. I had my son in France and had to live through the post-op with no drugs at all, while in most European countries women in the same situation are given pain-killers. As for the rest my body, it became an apple too. But my breast are exactly the same as they were, after one year breast feeding, and no marks what so ever. I was not expecting this, having my 1st son after 33, but I was lucky.
I also had those "lumps" in the scar of my C-section, but my Doctor prescribed a cream and told me to use it for 6 months and the lumps are gone.
Unfortunately it was 2 years ago and I don't remember the name of the thing anymore. Anyway, either my doctor was really an artist, or I risk uterine rupture in the next pregnancy, because the scar (although HUGE) is so even, thin and smooth that I don't notice it anymore. But then, each country has its differences while dealing with c-section births. I had my son in France and had to live through the post-op with no drugs at all, while in most European countries women in the same situation are given pain-killers. As for the rest my body, it became an apple too. But my breast are exactly the same as they were, after one year breast feeding, and no marks what so ever. I was not expecting this, having my 1st son after 33, but I was lucky.
After having 2 kids, I'm 10 pounds lighter than when I started, but I'll be damned if I can fit into anything I used to wear. Everything on my body has migrated south permanently. But I am hoping one day I can fit into my favorite pair of jeans - the ones I wore the night I first met my husband. The last time I pulled them out of the closet, they kind of smirked at me, and it didn't end well.
Eh, I gained tons of weight the first 3 months of pregnancy, and it's never come off since. My son is 3 ("and a haf!" as he'll proudly tell you), and even though I'm busting it on the elliptical, I'm still hanging on to those magical first 3 months like I'd like to do it all over again. Gah. Luckily I'm 5'10", but even so, those 25 extra pounds have to settle somewhere, like MY ASS.
Anyway, the ped. that did my son's circ. was roundly praised by all of the nurses before - and after - said circ. "Oh, he does/did such a beautiful job. No worries there." Considering my dad's cousin had a drunk ped. that did his in the middle of the night with disastrous results (this was the 1940s), I did find the nurses cooing rather soothing than otherwise.
Everyone should check out this great site:
www.theshapeofamother.com
"It occupies the space, long believed merely philosophical, where beauty and suet collide."
OH MY GOD!!!!!! You are so f'n funny I almost pee'd myself a little.
"Australopithecal wang"
Dear God, Julie. I love you.
...and now I must get a cloth to wipe snorted coffee off my laptop.
I did not have a C-section, and I still ended up with a festive lump o'fat on the right side of my abdomen, just a bit lower than my navel. What is this phenomenon, and why did none of my friends or pregnancy books mention it?
Is it ok if I'm willing to trade my no scar, no veined body for a kid? Because, given the chance, I will.
After my first two kids I felt my body was still a familiar resemblance to my pre-pregnancy self. But after the third? Dear god. I weigh almost the same, almost 9 months after her birth, but my body is not at all the same. I have talked about this with so many women. Thank you for this post and for your humor!
I generally stated, "life is like a publication, how would you like to write, it can be what kind of book. So our very own attitude determines living. Naturally, we should really go through a lot more meaningful guide, it can give us inspiration.