From the beach in Taormina, Sicily
I have been wanting to write about body image issues in pregnancy and post partum. I had felt so strongly that as my shape was changing, and my body was growing during pregnancy, that this is what my body was created for. I have definitely experienced this breast-feeding. I marvel at the topless sunbather and see the male reaction to this display of skin. Yet, I feed Micah on the beach, and though I try to do so modestly, show some skin – but what a different thing it is!
Breasts (and women’s bodies overall) are not created only to be looked at, and appreciated, as a sexual thing. The real glory of a woman’s body is the life-giving nature of it. There is so much about my body that I appreciate in general. In no particular order, I appreciate:
• eyes that see
• ears that hear
• a mouth that speaks
• arms and legs that move well
• a nose that smells
• taste buds that allow me to experience great food and drink
• skin that experiences touch and pleasure
• a heart that beats
• lungs that allow me to breathe
• a brain capable of so much
• hands and feet, fingers and toes, and teeth and the practical usefulness of these things.
Not to mention all the bones, blood, organs, etc that keep everything going and LIFE itself happening. I am not a biologist, but I can appreciate immensely the marvel of the human body. But specifically, there is much to marvel at in a woman’s body. First of all, it is incredible that life can grow and develop within a woman’s uterus. It is amazing all of the processes that work to that end. During pregnancy with Micah, I often thought that there is so much that can go wrong, and yet it seems that most of the time everything goes right. As if life itself is a powerful force that cannot be thwarted. It’s amazing that my body grew an organ (the placenta) for the sole purpose of nurturing Micah in utero. It’s phenomenal that bones move and stretch apart, and skin stretches, and fat nourishes, and blood supply increases all to help support life. And then there are hormones that work to make sure the body keeps this life within, for as long as is needed. All of this internal working we cannot see, and as much as it is explained, it is still a great mystery.
Life is obviously so much more than cells dividing. But our incredible emphasis of only contemplating what we can see is such an insult to the human body, and especially women’s bodies. I marveled that my body knew what to do to birth and deliver Micah. I’m amazed that I produce milk that on its own has already allowed my son to double in size – and is the perfect substance to keep him healthy. Not to mention that the fat of breasts and arms and belly provides a softness that comforts and allows Micah to sleep (which Brooke and other men cannot duplicate). There is also the marvel that a woman’s body adjusts temperature to keep the baby at just the right temp. Then there are those hormones again that work to keep a mother so sensitive to her own baby – his cries, his movements, his needs, etc. I have noticed that now that I have Micah, I simply cannot forget him, for even a moment. Even if I get a break, if someone else is holding him, if he is sleeping, or if someone else takes him out of the room, I am hyper-aware, linked to him, as if I cannot rest unless I know he is ok. I do believe this is biological, not just me being overly anxious. Sometimes I resent this active watchfulness or attentiveness, but most of the time, I am amazed that my whole being, body and all, continuously works to let my son live, grow, and thrive. What sin it is that we belittle a woman’s body to the external image of what culture defines as sexy and beautiful (and I’m not even talking about her soul). Oh, how I have struggled with the misogyny within me! Despising my own body, wishing it looked differently, struggling to create “image”, so focused on externals, constantly comparing myself to other women and either feeling superior in some external quality, or more likely, feeling inferior.
Here on the beach looking at youthful, tanned, skinny, toned bodies with firm breasts and tight stomachs, I objectify these women and myself, and completely lose sight of the wonder of the little boy in my arms, and the beauty of breastfeeding him, and the proud accomplishment of carrying and delivering him. (One friend Tara expressed that she wants to tattoo the names of her children on every stretch-mark she gets as a badge of honor and delight. Perhaps this is the perspective we all need.)
I’m so grateful that Brooke gets this, and loves my body and continues to do so throughout all these changes. I’m also glad that he regularly communicates his appreciation to me. But this makes me realize all the more that the struggle is found deep within me. I once again need to practice gratitude and daily appreciate my body for the life-giving marvel that it is.
