Mirror, mirror on the wall: let’s talk about this Postpartum Body

Hey fellow mom,

No one really talks about how strange it feels to look in the mirror after having a baby and not recognize the body staring back at you.

It’s a kind of quiet heartbreak that sneaks up on you.

You're holding this beautiful new life you created, this baby you dreamed about — and at the same time, you’re standing in front of your reflection wondering, Who even am I now?

Postpartum body image is… complicated.

I’m incredibly grateful for what my body has done. It carried and nourished a healthy baby girl. It allowed me to experience pregnancy, even after the heartbreak of an ectopic. That kind of strength isn’t lost on me. I don’t take it for granted, not for a single second.

But that doesn’t make this part any easier.

Between the hormone crashes, the flare-ups from PCOS, and the exhaustion of new motherhood… my body has changed in ways I didn’t expect.

I’m heavier now than I was when I gave birth.

And that’s hard to admit, not because I’m ashamed of weight gain, but because I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t gain much during pregnancy, just the baby weight. So when the baby was out, I assumed I’d feel more like me again. And perhaps I did weight wise while breastfeeding but definitely not hormonally. As soon as I stopped breastfeeding, the weight started to come on.

I’ve always been body-aware. Maybe too aware.

There’s a constant hum in the back of my mind telling me to shrink, to tone, to change. I’ve spent years trying to silence it… sometimes successfully, sometimes not.

And now? With the added pressure of figuring out who I am as a mom, those thoughts hit differently. They feel heavier. And not just on my body but on my spirit too.

There have been days when I’ve wanted to rot on the couch, scroll aimlessly, and avoid mirrors altogether.

Days when getting dressed feels like a chore especially since my favorite pieces don’t fit the way they used to.

But I’m trying. REALLY trying not to let those feelings take over.

Because I don’t want this to be the version of womanhood I teach my daughter.

I don’t want to raise her in a home where bodies are measured by their bounce-backs or what size jeans they fit into.

I want her to see me living.

Fully. Kindly. Gently.

So I’m building something new.
I’m building a lifestyle that feels good, physically and emotionally.

This means:

• Slow mornings.

• Getting dressed even when nothing fits quite right.

• Taking walks to clear my head, not to chase a number.

• Fueling myself with meals that are kind to my hormones.

• Moving my body with grace instead of guilt.

It’s less about snapping back and more about showing up.
For myself.
For her.

For this version of life that feels both unfamiliar and sacred.

I want my daughter to grow up knowing that her body is worth loving. No matter what phase it’s in.

I want her to believe that taking care of yourself isn’t about becoming smaller but it’s actually about becoming whole.

And if I want her to know that, I have to model it.

Even when it’s uncomfortable.
Even when I don’t feel like doing it.

Because this body has done so much for me.
It’s carried me through grief.
It’s grown a baby.
It’s kept going, even when I wanted to disappear.

And now, it deserves care.
It deserves intention.
It deserves love. Before the glow-up, before the new jeans, before the compliments.

So that’s where I am right now.

Not quite in love with my body.
Not quite comfortable.
But showing up anyway.
Trying. Rebuilding.

And teaching my little girl that worth has never been tied to weight.

If you're in this same space—where you're grieving your pre-baby body, navigating postpartum changes, or just trying to feel at home in yourself again—I see you.

You’re not alone in this.

Let’s unlearn the bounce-back culture together.

Let’s take care of ourselves in ways that are actually sustainable.
Let’s teach our babies, through our actions, that we’re allowed to evolve, and that evolution doesn’t have to look like a before-and-after.

This isn’t about snapping back.

This is about coming back to ourselves. Whatever version of her shows up.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜ ꩜ ꩜ ꩜

If this resonated with you, leave a comment. I’d love to hear how you’ve been navigating postpartum, identity shifts, or just the messiness of showing up for yourself again. Let’s talk. Let’s be soft with ourselves. Let’s take a second. 💌

Cheers,
Ari
Your fellow mom that gets it