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Brittany L. Bergman

Savoring motherhood, building marriage, and living simply

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It’s Too Dangerous to Love Myself

Sep 19 8 Comments

My story is not unlike those of countless other postpartum moms: pregnancy changed my body in ways I didn’t expect, and even once I lost most of the “baby weight,” I struggled to accept that my body had rearranged itself. My hips had widened and never narrowed again; I had lost muscle tone and gained a permanent belly pooch; a few new stretch marks had shown up on the fleshy parts of my thighs. And I couldn’t seem to find the motivation (or time or energy) to do much about it.

But instead of acknowledging the reality that I’d grown an entire human in my abdomen and things were bound to be different, and instead of giving myself grace for not having the energy to workout like I used to, I shamed myself. My fingers pinched the extra belly fat as I stood in front of the mirror waiting for the shower water to get hot. I tried to stuff myself into my pre-pregnancy skinny jeans every day, looking for the tiniest signs of progress. I scrolled Instagram, comparing myself to other moms who seemed to have lost all their baby weight and then some, berating myself for not being one of them.

I heard the words of well-intentioned friends echoing in my head: Your body is beautiful, even if it’s different. You can choose to love your body, even if it’s not perfect. Your strength has grown, even in the moments when you feel weak.

It’s not that I didn’t think the self-compassion strategies would work. I knew I had what it took to be kind and gracious with myself, to learn to love this mother-shaped body. Instead, I actively chose not to engage in self-compassion, because I was afraid of giving myself permission to accept and even love my current body.

If I bought clothes to fit my new shape, said nice things to myself about my belly, looked at pictures without cringing, then maybe it would be like pulling a release valve and I would end up letting myself go entirely. If I accepted less than perfection, what would hold me back from diving into the depths of bags of popcorn and tubs of ice cream? What would prevent me from gaining even more weight? What would stop me from becoming someone I didn’t recognize? No, it was too dangerous to love myself.

Instead, I punished my body by wearing too-tight clothes, thinking that if the waistband of my pants cut into my flesh, maybe it would serve as a reminder to not eat that cupcake in the break room. I looked at pictures from my wedding day and told myself that I had the power to look like this again. Maybe I do have that power, but perhaps the real power is in choosing not to wield it.

I know I could have a tighter, slimmer version of my body by eating a little better and working out more. But I also know that striving for a better body would involve some serious trade-offs, like giving up writing or reading or sleeping or spending time with my daughter—and those aren’t things I’m willing to sacrifice right now. It’s hard work to achieve a perfect body, and it’s also hard work to love an imperfect one. To be honest, I’d rather my daughter witness the latter. I don’t want her to grow up seeing her mommy chase after the elusive goal of a flatter stomach or tighter thighs, because what would that teach her about her own value?

Instead, I want her to see me enjoying exercise, feeling strong and fueling my body. I want her to see me not just granting myself permission to fall short of the ideal, but redefining what “ideal” can be. More than anything, though, I want her to see that my body is a shell that houses the vibrant mind and unique gifts and creative spirit that my loving God gave me, so she’ll grow up believing the same about herself.

Originally posted on The MOPS Blog, a site I love and contribute to monthly.

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Filed Under: Self-Care Tagged With: body image, contentment, fitness, habits, motherhood, perfection, perfectionism

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brittanylbergman

Brittany L. Bergman
This Very Cool and Very Silly little boy moved up This Very Cool and Very Silly little boy moved up to the early preschool room at daycare today, and he turns 2 in less than a month, and he says new words every day, and he pushes me away in the mornings so he can rest a little longer, and he’s outgrowing his 2T clothes, and he’s not really a baby anymore, and what I’m trying to say is I’M NOT OKAY.
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A poem in honor of #internationalwomensday. May we A poem in honor of #internationalwomensday. May we be a generation of womxn who embrace our humanity, our inherent power, and our purpose outside of the confines of capitalism. 💪🏼 🔥
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It’s a great day to witness the shattering of a glass ceiling, to embrace empathy and decency, and to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

The work is only just beginning, but today, we celebrate. Congratulations, President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris! 👏🏼🎉💙
What a beautiful, exhausting, festive, heartbreaki What a beautiful, exhausting, festive, heartbreaking, cozy, chaotic-but-strangely-quiet Christmas we had. ✨🎄✨

That’s a wrap for me on 2020—I’ll be off social media until sometime in January. May you be filled with peace and hope as we close this year but still wait for the close of this chapter in our history. 💜
I have faced Christmases full of grief and loss; d I have faced Christmases full of grief and loss; depression and rage; exhaustion and loneliness. But I can honestly say this is the weariest Christmas I can remember. I say that not to shine a spotlight on me, but to say that I have a feeling this might be your experience too. I’m with you.
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And so the words to my favorite Christmas hymn hit me different this year. They resonate in a place much deeper, more tender and true than ever before. I rejoice in the giggles of my meltdown-prone child. I rejoice in stolen moments alone in the dark, the room lit only by the glow of the Christmas tree. I rejoice in every video and every social media post I see of a frontline worker receiving the COVID vaccine, our ticket out of this nightmare. I rejoice in the vision that next Christmas might look more familiar than this one does. I rejoice in the hope of Christ, whose universal, creative, motherly love holds the whole universe together.
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On this Christmas Eve, I’ll leave you with this quote from Howard Thurman. I hope these words bring a slant of light to your day.
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“The symbol of Christmas—what is it? It is the rainbow arched over the roof of the sky when the clouds are heavy with foreboding. It is the cry of life in the newborn babe when, forced from its mother’s nest, it claims its right to live. It is the brooding Presence of the Eternal Spirit making crooked paths straight, rough places smooth, tired hearts refreshed, dead hopes stir with newness of life. It is the promise of tomorrow at the close of every day, the movement of life in defiance of death, and the assurance that love is sturdier than hate, that right is more confident than wrong, that good is more permanent than evil.”
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Whatever and however you celebrate at this time of year, I’m sending you all my love and peace. 💫
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Brittany L Bergman is a for-profit blog. Any company that I collaborate with is chosen by me and fits the theme and readership of my blog. At times, posts may contain affiliate links or sponsored content, which is never at any charge to you.

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