On being 11 weeks post-partum

I've noticed lately that my feelings about my body seem to change depending on what I choose to wear that morning. I'm saying this out loud right now to remind myself that choosing that particular pair of jeans will not make for a good day. Choosing that other pair of jeans will make for a great day. It's strange, I know, especially since the jeans are the exact same size. They have just enough of a difference, though, to make a significant difference in my mood.

So, I'm 11 weeks post-partum. I'm actually below my pre-pregnancy weight right now and I'm pretty sure I'm still losing weight. This is a good thing. I was overweight before and I'd definitely like to weigh less. But, even though I've lost weight compared to pre-pregnancy, my body is different. It won't ever be the same. I carried a second child for 9 months. I birthed an 8 lb 13 oz bundle of joy. I'm changed and it is good. But, boy, I wish my butt was smaller ;).

I tend to have unrealistic expectations. I expect to lose weight while eating lots of ice cream. I want to have the body I had when I was 19 but the life I have now. These things do not go together. My body is fantastic. My husband loves it, love handles and all. It is powerful enough to give birth. It is soft enough to comfort a crying infant. It is miraculous enough to breastfeed a baby while holding a toddler and reading a story. It does good work and I love it...even if it doesn't look like one of the girls on the cover of a magazine.