During my first pregnancy, I gained a total of 50 pounds. This was a significant change for someone like me, who had long been preoccupied with the idea of thinness. For nearly two decades, I battled disordered eating, used exercise as a form of punishment, and perceived my body as much larger than it truly was. I spent four years of my adolescence addicted to weight loss pills while repeatedly engaging in bingeing and purging cycles, convinced it was some sort of trendy diet.
Despite my frail appearance, nobody ever asked if I was okay. Spoiler: I wasn’t.
Then came my first pregnancy, and with it, a natural weight gain as I nurtured the baby girl within me. My obstetrician was delighted, even joking during my final prenatal appointment that my added “cushion” would assist in an easier delivery. For the first time ever, gaining weight felt like an accomplishment, not a setback. I had no idea that this was even possible!
The experience was quite different during my second pregnancy. I hadn’t lost any weight before conceiving my son, and after numerous failed attempts at shedding pounds, I stood before a mirror, took a hard look at my mom-bod, and decided to embrace myself fully.
As I observed my stretch marks, cellulite, and the so-called “mama pouch,” I realized that amidst the parts I once wanted to criticize, my body had achieved something miraculous—it had brought forth a child.
My body was pleading for me to love it after all we had endured together. So, I did. That was two years ago, and I haven’t looked back since. I’m on a journey toward self-acceptance, genuinely appreciating my plus-sized body, and I have finally put my disordered eating behind me. Cue Lizzo’s “Good as Hell” because that’s precisely how I feel!
However, things shifted when I began my prenatal visits with a new OB. While she had a lovely demeanor, her perspective seemed conditioned to prioritize my size over my overall health. I shared my history of food and body image struggles, which led her to only address pressing issues when absolutely necessary.
For years, I harmed my body in the name of “health,” terrified of becoming a statistic in the “obesity epidemic” I had been taught to dread. Blood tests would reveal excellent results, only for her to insist on additional tests “just in case.”
When my son appeared to be in a higher weight and height percentile than my daughter, it was assumed my size was the cause. I was bombarded with unsolicited advice about weight loss, “just in case.” Even after my glucose test returned negative, I received information on managing gestational diabetes. “Just in case.”
At every visit, the same dreaded word appeared under “Health Conditions Discussed.” You guessed it: “Obesity.” Despite feeling healthier than ever and experiencing what I perceived to be an easier second pregnancy, I was categorized as medically obese, which was deemed a significant issue. This label meant I couldn’t simply care for myself and enjoy my pregnancy; I felt compelled to meticulously track my weight gain and stay hyper-vigilant. “Just in case.”
Seeing that seven-letter word made me want to tear it off the paper and flip over every table in sight. But it also brought tears, as I second-guessed my hard-earned body confidence.
Years ago, I had been terrified of the term “obesity,” ever since I saw news anchors discussing it with alarm. I shuddered at the images of faceless, overweight individuals depicted on my screen. I spent years punishing my body to avoid being part of that so-called epidemic. Yet, I’ve since learned that obesity is not a literal epidemic; you can’t “catch” fat. Research shows that the BMI system is outdated, and many people demonstrate that health can exist at various sizes.
It’s time we change our mindset. Just because someone has a slender physique doesn’t mean they’re healthy, and it’s equally unjust to assume that those with larger bodies are automatically unhealthy. Our bodies are not one-size-fits-all, so why do we treat them that way?
In the sensitive journey of pregnancy and motherhood, let’s start treating women’s bodies with equal respect and care, regardless of size. If only someone had noticed my destructive habits when I was dangerously thin. And now, as a plus-sized, pregnant woman, I wish to be recognized for my strength and health.
My journey toward body acceptance has allowed me to alleviate the stress surrounding prenatal visits and celebrate my second pregnancy without shame. In fact, carrying my son felt remarkably effortless, and the months flew by as I chased after my energetic toddler.
When my due date arrived, I labored for less than 12 hours. With three easy pushes, my son entered the world, while “Fat Bottomed Girls” by Queen played in the background and the birthing team danced around me. I couldn’t have asked for a more fitting anthem for the moment.
I thrived during pregnancy and birth, all in a so-called “medically obese” body. And that, my friends, is truly significant.
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Summary:
This article shares the journey of embracing body positivity during pregnancy, highlighting the contrast between societal expectations of weight and individual health. The author reflects on her struggles with body image, the stigma of “obesity,” and the importance of self-acceptance. Through her experiences, she emphasizes the need for treating women’s bodies with respect, regardless of size, and celebrates the miraculous journey of motherhood.
Keyphrase: Healthy Pregnancy in an Obese Body
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