After Logan died, I had serious misgivings about my body. It had failed me in everywhere.
I would look at Josh and wonder how could he value someone who couldn’t give him the one thing my body is supposed to do. The one job a woman’s body does that makes her unique. I would look pregnant women with envy and unease. Their swollen belly proved worthy while mine felt useless. I would watch my husband and wonder if he longed for a woman who could give him what I could not.
I looked in the mirror everyday, seeing the leftovers from my pregnancy. While I only gained 15 pounds while pregnant with Logan, what I saw in the mirror was havoc wreaked over my body. I would force myself to work out, disdained by the fact I could not function like I once could. I’d see these other women in the gym functioning at the level I once could. And for the life of me I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t. My body looked different, but nothing had changed. No baby at home to tell me to slow down and give my body grace. So instead I beat myself into failure and stop working out, being left empty, alone and depressed. This cycle continued for 2 years. And each failure swept over me, shrouding my eyes, I would crawl deeper into my rabbit hole.
One day, I snapped, no longer able to bear the weight of life. We discussed therapy, and begrudgingly I went. I’ve known for a long time that I needed to go, but the very thought of discussing the emotional baggage that Logan left me with, was so beyond exhausting and complicated that I shied away in fear.
After a few weeks of therapy, I’ve begun to feel alive again. I can see joy in mundane things. I have gotten completely lost in Logan’s birth video and surprising myself, floated to the surface instead of sinking.
I had an idea. I would stop putting the weight of being who I was before Logan. And take exercise back to basics. Something easy and that I could enjoy. As mundane as it sounds, I’ve past the three week mark that I usually dropped out. In fact, I’m beginning week 6, the final week of my program. I’ve lost 2″ all over. I see a vibrant life in me.
I’m excited, and in a way I feel healing. I see myself in that mirror. I’m not sure what I see, but failure isn’t hanging over me.