Skip to main content

More Than A Belly: The Objectification of New Mothers


You can stop objectifying new mothers now.

The Duchess of Cambridge is absolutely gorgeous--she's already proven that a few times. And yes, she looked unnervingly stunning eight hours after delivering eight pounds of princess. (I'm guessing she was also in a good deal of pain, and I admire her sense of duty. I wish her all the sleep and rest a new mother can find.)

But can we stop ogling brand new mothers? Can we stop demanding celebrities and ordinary women alike reveal their perfect post baby bodies in five minutes? Can we stop demanding it at all? Some women's bodies go back to the same lines, proportions, and shape they were before they conceived, grew, and carried a child. Some women's bodies grow new lines, change proportions, and shift shape due to their journey. A woman's body isn't done with motherhood once she delivers her child, though. 

Some women breastfeed. Their bodies taking on a whole new course of sustaining life, while the shape of familiar parts change. All of us mommies feed our babies, and when we do that our minds and hands are dedicated to keeping our tiny humans alive.

 Our babies splay themselves across our torsos, just as they do our lives. We watch tiny chests intently, consoled by the even in and out of our babies' breathing. We cradle weak necks and velvety heads, keeping them close to us.

 Our hands are full of tiny humans, rendering us temporarily disabled from other actions. Our eyes, etched in mascara or not, are heavy and weary because they  widen throughout the night to the sound of a brand new cry. And if there is no cry, our eyes widen as we check to insure tiny chests are still breathing. 

Our legs walk thousands of steps, bounce babies, and keep us standing when exhaustion threaten to topple us. And in the case of the Duchess, allow her to walk down steps while the world watches.

Our arms grow new muscles, the muscles of women who carry babies, diaper bags, breast pumps, groceries, brief cases, and anything and everything. The arms of a mother are an astounding feat of nature. 

So yes, our post baby bodies are amazing and worthy of wonder and awe, just not in the way you're assuming. The biological and physical realities of motherhood are exhausting, and our post baby bodies rise above it all and survive. But by debating when rounded abdomens will flatten, or if they will settle with an extra roll, you've managed to objectify women yet again. 

We are more than societal beauty standards--before motherhood and after. I have no doubt that the beautiful Duchess will re-emerge with her usual trim waist. However, that is only a piece of her post baby body. Her whole body carried her princess, survived the princess's exit, and will care for it during her most fragile weeks. That whole body is a piece of wonder, for it is a mother's body. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Losing Your Religion

  I  used to see religion as a warm, safe place.   It was somewhere that created a routine, a social network, and a place of belonging.   Oh, and we were right. About everything. And that’s a great feeling, being right.  Never having to doubt.  Knowing my neighbor was wrong, but I was right.  It was strange how every other religion was Oh So Wrong.  So clear how they hurt other people. So obvious that the adherents were worshiping themselves, rather than a god.  And then I..changed.  They’d say that I fell away. The people in the pews. Because I was no longer convinced that I was better than others.  That I could be cruel, selfish, vain, and legalistic, and it was okay if I sat in a pew on Sunday. In fact, I could doubt and wonder and process as much as I needed, if I kept mindlessly repeating the same tropes as everyone in the pew. Recite the same Bible verses. Sit in the same seat. Drink the same bad coffee. Go to the sa...

Hourglass: Life Overseas

"How is that we've already spent two Christmases here," Stephen asked in a rare moment of verbalized surprise. "That means this year will be our THIRD Christmas," I replied in my standard over-enthused way. It's true. This year will make our third Christmas season in England. We have our social/travel/visiting lives scheduled until September, and while that delights my fun and people loving side, it horrifies the commitment averse side of me. But, what that also means is that we will soon be hitting our third round of all things England. That seems serious. Committed. Almost as if we really do live here. Life here has become routine, even that unpredictable inconveniences that pop up when your tether to your homeland is an APO box and (sometimes questionable) base services. For instance, (US) Amazon sent us size one diapers in a size four box, and Nova's 21 pounds of buttery chub will NOT fit into size one diapers. So now, I have to run o...

When Motherhood Breaks You

One of the axioms of good writing is writing what you know. Know thy strengths and write about them. When I was pregnant with Landon, I was excited to write about motherhood. I LOVED writing my bumpdates . Chronicling Landon's gestation and birth remains one of the best decisions of my life, and I hope to do that again if I have another child. I wrote authentically (as best a first time mom can) about pregnancy and birth, and I wanted to write authentically about life as a mother.  But what I didn't know, what I couldn't have known, was that I wouldn't be able to be authentic. Know thyself? I couldn't. I didn't know who I was or what I was feeling. For the first time in my life, I didn't have the words to express what was going on in my head.  What was wrong with my brain? "A depression suffered by a mother following childbirth, typically arising from the combination of hormonal changes, psychological adjustment to motherhood, and fatigue." (...