Bouncing forward vs. "bouncing back"
Getting above it all to see the big picture.
My previous post on Diastasis Recti (here) was written not long after giving birth, trying frantically to get back to feeling like myself as an athlete and human and the original inhabitant of my body. Now, with a few years of added perspective, I can’t say that any of those feelings burn less hot—I still feel very passionate about many of the same things I felt then. First and foremost, my mind is boggled that many women (and older men and non-pregnant women through aging, posture, and life) lose an entire major muscle group in the course of life and keeping the human race going, and we are meant to just “bounce back," without even knowing anything about some of these muscular changes let alone how to care for them. But I can now confidently say that I would love to go back and tell that frantic former self that letting go of society’s ideals around “bouncing back,” instead focusing on small movements, going slowly, and listening to my body, would go a long way towards achieving equilibrium mentally and physically.
The “bounce back after baby” culture is counterproductive. It sets unrealistic expectations and puts undue pressure on women when they are often at their most vulnerable. It can be a source of pride for some, a source of shame for others, and all of the shades in between for most.
Right after each of our kids’ births, at the peak of hormone changes and physical and mental changes, I was feeling the least like myself in my body, and ironically the most soul-satisfyingly content I have felt. After almost an entire lifetime of intense self-scrutiny of my body, it was an odd mix to say the least. My body felt visually unrecognizable. In addition to the tender, healing spots, there were loose blobs and lumps, empty rolls and folds, while other places stretched taut and overfull, bulging with milk. My societal mind, conditioned to think one way, was stuffed with overhead snippets from other moms saying “I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight a week after giving birth!” or images of supermodels with flat stomachs days after giving birth. On the other hand, the ego part of my brain was secretly, sheepishly pleasantly surprised to have to get a larger bra cup size. My actual mind didn’t give a rat’s ass either way. I felt a blissful desire to lay on the couch and scarf carbs and stare sleeplessly at my babies. I had never felt more proud of my body, or capable within it.
This feeling lasted maybe six weeks at most. At that point, when the midwife told me I was cleared to run again, I felt what could only be described as guilt or shame that I didn’t actually want to. I’ve written a lot about this process of getting back to exercising, physically and mentally, but I’m still working through how outward pressures and expectations influenced (and continue to influence) me in feeling a sense of self in my body.
Slowly working through the fog.
I can’t imagine a worse time to feel critical of one’s own body than at the time when it has just created and birthed another human. This is a powerful time, and it could be a time to celebrate one’s body, or even to take stock neutrally of the body, and appreciate it for exactly what it is. We could focus on cherishing and caring for ourselves as we nourish and bond with our children. The fact that I have spent one second of my time while nursing and bonding with my baby letting my mind wander to the disappointment of still wearing pregnancy clothes makes me indignant. I mean, I didn’t let it take over. I knew to prioritize what was important and I feel lucky that I didn’t let it steal my joy. But still, it was there, chewing on the corners of my joy, lurking there to make sure I knew I wasn’t quite enough or that others were somehow doing it better. And that’s enough to make me want to put this out there, in the hopes that we could all spend more time focusing on how we feel in our bodies, our connection to their power and what they can do and be, rather than what they look like or what they aren’t.
Destination? What’s that?
It’s been almost four years now since the birth of my second child, and only now can I recognize that many of the things I have been doing in the name of a strong core or getting that pre-baby strength back have actually made things worse. The pressure to “bounce back” after pregnancy—whether my motivation was to be a certain size or to be strong for my work and my life (or, ahem, probably both)—obscured my ability to listen to my body and connect with it to see what actually would make me physically and mentally stronger. I was trying for planks and Russian twists when my body would have benefitted more from very subtle, simple motions. Lying on my back, feeling my core and pelvic floor muscles, and tapping one toe on the ground with my knee up. Stuff like that—stuff that I can just hear my postpartum self whine about, “But THAT’S not exercise! How will I ever get STRONG?!” By doing too much, too soon, I was stressing non-existent or barely there muscles, causing others to compensate, and possibly exacerbating the diastasic recti. Had I worked my way up very gradually (while still walking, biking, jogging, and doing other forms of movement) instead of placing unrealistic expectations and pressure on my body, I might have actually felt back to my stronger self much sooner. Oh the irony. Instead, it’s taken me nearly four years to learn that backing off has actually made me stronger.
One step at a time….
Now, each night I do a few sets of very simple exercises I got from a wonderful physical therapist that I saw two times after our second daughter was born. (My rant about the awareness, availability, and cost of PT to postpartum women is long and I will spare you it here. I know it’s getting better but there’s a long way to go!). At the time, I did these exercises for a few weeks then dropped them as I figured if I wanted to “see progress,” I should probably start doing something harder. Doing harder stuff made me feel stronger and fitter in some ways, but over time I realized my core hadn’t gotten actually stronger in some very basic ways, so I did a bit of research and realized I needed to get back to basics. Coming back to these simple exercises feels like a new level of connection and respect for my body. I can slowly feel improvement. And more importantly, by slowing down and doing more simple, “easy,” exercises, I’ve been able to feel each muscle working and learn a lot about my body. I have a lot less daily pain, too—a side bonus from adding this simple ritual to my day. Before, I might have scoffed at such simplicity—”I’m not even breaking a sweat, what’s the point?!” etc., blah blah blah—but now I’m so grateful for all I’ve learned from my wayward path back to fitness. By fitness, I don’t mean looking a certain way or being able to achieve certain physical feats. I mean a state of feeling and being mentally fit, the right state FOR ME AND ONLY ME, and it’s a continuum. Because really, what is "back” anyways? My body will never be the same as it was before, and I wouldn’t want it to be. I treasure the changes I’ve been through with pregnancy and injury, both mentally and physically, as challenging as they’ve been at times. The pressure to “bounce back” had me thinking I needed to arrive at a certain destination. But I now know that there isn’t necessarily one destination. I do best when I can fully and objectively appreciate exactly where I’m at in any given moment.
Ahhhhh how refreshing it is to have a bit of perspective above the clouds.
