It was my first encounter in group therapy, a gathering of women from all walks of life united by a shared struggle: eating disorders. I was just 22, having dealt with my own eating issues for several years. Among us was a mother whose story shocked me. She openly admitted to purging while her child was nearby. The guilt she felt was palpable, but the compulsion was stronger. I couldn’t help but think, “Get it together, lady! You should have sorted this out before having kids!”
Reflecting on my reaction now, I realize how naive and unkind I was. Fast forward a decade, and I found myself pregnant with my first child, still grappling with my own inner demons. It quickly became apparent that my eating disorder was a formidable adversary, one that did not relent even as I nurtured a life within me. The guilt and shame of prioritizing my own struggles over my unborn child were overwhelming. I despised myself. I felt I was the worst person alive, convinced I would suffer the consequences—miscarriage, birth defects, or worse—because I was selfishly focusing on my own issues.
Every day, I waged the same war, filled with self-loathing and relentless guilt. My inner dialogue was merciless: “You’re disgusting. You’re unworthy of this baby. You don’t deserve happiness.”
When we step into parenthood, we often believe we’re preparing adequately—reading books, setting up cribs, and installing car seats. I entered my pregnancy still entangled in an eating disorder, thinking naively that carrying a baby would somehow cure my addiction. I hoped the impending arrival would bring about a change in my habits.
After my baby was born, my inner critic grew louder, overshadowing any concern I had for my child’s well-being. I was fixated on losing the weight quickly. No excuses. I didn’t want to be another mom lamenting about baby weight; I aimed to be the mom who bounced back effortlessly, flaunting her postpartum body in a bikini just months after giving birth.
The harsh truth was that I was a new mother still grappling with an eating disorder that had dominated my life for nearly two decades. I hadn’t figured it out, and perhaps I never would. Maybe this disorder was simply part of my identity.
However, there is a silver lining. After several years of motherhood, I can happily say I’ve made significant progress in my recovery. Interestingly, it wasn’t motherhood that triggered my healing; it was the realization of where my energy needed to be focused. With two toddlers to care for, a part-time job, and responsibilities at home, my energy became limited. Gradually, the hold of my food addiction loosened as I redirected that energy toward what truly matters.
Of course, I still hear that nagging voice. It whispers to me during meals and as I browse the grocery store. My heart races at the sight of a giant plate of nachos or the smell of fresh donuts. Stepping on the scale still sends my stomach into knots, especially with the lingering pounds from my second pregnancy. But this time, I step away from the scale and move back to the living room. I embrace my children and hold my partner’s hand. This is where my energy belongs now. This is truly what’s important. I’ve finally come to understand what it means to feel at home.
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In summary, my journey through motherhood while battling an eating disorder has been challenging, but with time and dedication, I have started to find healing and hope.
Keyphrase: Battling an Eating Disorder as a New Mom
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