I was seven months along and, once again, diving into the world of maternity shopping. I pulled a promising top from the rack and awkwardly slipped it on. As I examined my reflection, I scrunched my nose in dismay. “This shirt just doesn’t look cute,” I thought, and in that moment, I was struck by the weight of my realization.
For three decades, I had battled with my weight, critiquing my body at every turn. Entering a dressing room felt like an invitation to self-criticism; the only variable was the intensity of the blow. If I was lucky, I’d find an outfit that concealed my figure well enough for me to feel somewhat okay. It was always my body that fell short, never the clothing itself.
Yet, on that day, I recognized that pregnancy had transformed something deep within me: I actually loved how I looked. I adored my baby bump, the meaning it carried, and the way people reacted to me. I was fortunate to be experiencing a “magical unicorn pregnancy” with few discomforts, and everything about it felt amazing. (Don’t hate me, I got sick plenty with baby No. 2!)
It dawned on me that my pregnant mind had decided I looked fantastic, and that clothes should enhance that. Any shirt that didn’t flatter me simply wasn’t a cute shirt. My usual assumption (that there was something wrong with me) vanished, granting me a newfound freedom. I embraced horizontal stripes and sought tops with empire ties to accentuate my shape. For the first time, I relished seeing myself in the mirror.
Regrettably, this wave of body positivity faded almost as soon as my daughter was born. I was unprepared for how long baby weight would linger. I wrestled with nursing tops that felt just a tad tight, too proud to replace them. I clung to my maternity jeans postpartum, my head hung low, terrified someone might inquire about my due date.
Suddenly, I found myself back at square one.
Fast forward two years, and here I am, five months pregnant again. This time, I eagerly reached for my box of maternity clothes, donning those comfy elastic waists by my ninth week. I was anxious to recapture that positive mindset, and I’m happy to report it has returned with a vengeance. Sure, I have my moments. I’m starting this pregnancy with 20 pounds still hanging on from the first one, and sadly, some of my favorite maternity clothes don’t fit. I haven’t quite come to terms with parting with them.
Nevertheless, I’m falling in love with my belly again. I wear outfits I would have never considered before. I pair snug tops with yoga pants, and I actually prefer this combo since it highlights my belly. Given my natural weight, it’s not always obvious I’m pregnant, and I sometimes catch myself worrying about what others might think—what if they see me as just overweight? But then I remind myself, that’s not my problem.
I aspire to embrace this positive attitude consistently. I want to welcome my new baby girl while affirming that my body is beautiful. More importantly, I want to instill this belief in my daughters, showing them that their bodies are remarkable and that if clothes don’t look good, it’s the clothing that’s at fault—not them. I want them to understand that the opinions of others don’t define their worth.
I know these beliefs are true, and I crave a world where I can embody them wholeheartedly. Yet, I find myself only able to embrace this during fleeting moments. But this time, I’m committed to trying harder. Perhaps it’s a matter of practice—training my mind to recognize my beauty. I’ve got five more months to build up my self-esteem!
See you at the finish line!
For more insightful content, check out this post on how to navigate pregnancy and home insemination.