I Glory in the Stretch Marks

     Almost as soon as I became pregnant this go round (see previous posts for that unexpectedly trying journey), people began asking me if I was going to "eat differently" as a result.  This amused me, since I didn't realize I was "eating differently" to begin with.

     I suppose they were referring to what I have posted about twice regarding the new approach to food the Lord has graciously cultivated in me (see post just before this).  And these comments, which I've received a lot over the last seven-and-a-half months, show me that we, as a culture, are still fixated with diets and image--not that we need look much past the TV screen for generous proof of this.

     So to address the questions I've received, as well as compile a little "pregnancy treatise" for all my pregger friends out there, I wanted to put together a little post to reinforce not only healthy, non-dieting lifestyles, but also pregnancy in general.

****

     As most of you know, I lost 50 pounds a year-and-a-half ago by responding to the Spirit's prompting and becoming in tune with my body's cues for hunger and fullness.  I ate when I was hungry.  Whatever I wanted.  And then stopped when I was full.  Stopped.  Seriously.  Even if food was still on the plate.  Revolutionary and almost radical for a previously compulsive over-eater like me.

    This past January, exactly a year after beginning this incredibly freeing journey of walking in the Spirit and the fruit of His self-control, God miraculously granted the gift of life within me.  I could not have been more thrilled, and, until the first appointment, was practically euphoric.  So many months of waiting, riding the agonizing waves of anxiety and fear, now culminated in life.  Life.

    But it didn't take long after my first appointment, my first peek at a fluttering heart and tiny limbs, that my euphoria began to recede into my old foe--except this time he had morphed into a new fixation: fear of gaining weight.

     Now I'm going to be real honest with you here (and what else have you come to expect from me?), in my rational, sensible brain, I knew women are supposed to gain weight in pregnancy.  But after a year of losing weight gradually, I had unknowingly become a little attached to the weight bracket in which I had landed...and I was terrified to see the numbers return to the higher stratosphere.

     And being who I am, fear took hold in the form of a barrage of questions.  What if it doesn't come back off?  What if you fall back into over-eating?  What if pregnancy and breastfeeding somehow take over your body like some outside force acting against your will?  Looking back, I can see that hormones definitely played a role in these fears, but I truly believe most of them are the natural anxieties of anyone who loses weight and then finds themselves in a situation where weight gain is either probable or inevitable.  It's monumental to re-train one's mind to temporarily view weight gain as a good thing.

    Not just monumental.  Supernatural.

    I spent my whole first trimester weighing myself every single day.  Every. Day.  Ridiculous, I know, but I did it.  And I share this detail to show the extent of my fixation.  I was so scared to look pregnant.  

   And now that we're here, we may as well sit on this awhile.  I am so disturbed by our culture's bent to conceal or even avoid signs of inevitable life stages: puberty, pregnancy, age, illness, etc.  I feel women are especially victimized in this frenzy to stagnate our bodies in the svelte, fit, tidy package of a twenty-something, no matter how old, pregnant, or ill we become.  We attempt to plastinate perfection, to be living-yet-unchangeable beings.

    Just listen to the women who are praised on TV, magazines, and even in our own social circles: women who have had several children, keep an immaculate home, are successful employees, and also somehow manage to find time to volunteer...all in high heels.  And a size 4 pencil skirt.

    How does she do it?

    And while we secretly despise this woman, we also stand in wonder of her apparent immunity to wrinkles, stretch marks, and spider veins.

    And while I clearly disdain holding this impossible, and even undesirable, standard of perfection up for all women to attain, I was subconsciously falling into the never-aging, never-changing image trap just a few short months ago in my absolute terror to gain a pound, to gain an inch, to alter in any way for this new miracle.  This new life.

     I think it's time that we as women mutiny against this trend.  Motherhood is a life of great personal sacrifice, and it starts with pregnancy.  There are things that occur to our bodies during pregnancy that will never "go back" to how they were before.  But instead of celebrating the signs of pregnancy, we pine for the days when we weren't bloated, our pelvises weren't stretched to their limit, and our bellies didn't look like they'd been mauled by a tiger...otherwise known as stretch marks.

     We all respond differently to these undesirable changes--some of us find our inner-Olympian and work out to an insane level to make sure our weight gain is "all belly."  Others, who only run if they're being chased (like me), simply give up in despair, eating away their woes in sugar binges and salty sprees.

     But no matter how we respond, the root attitude is still the same: we are despising the natural processes of our God-knit bodies to grow and sustain life.  Life.  God-ordained life.  In the face of life, we should be awed into complete surrender of any personal pain, discomfort, or defect in order to be the sacred vessels of it.  I mean, is there anything much holier than the womb?  It's where our Savior was first rocked and nurtured, where many great world-changers were knit together, where the greatest miracle we experience, that science still ceases to fully comprehend, begins.

     And we despise it.  Both by giving into unhealthy eating and unhealthy dieting and exercise.  By hastening to lose all signs of it as soon as the baby is born.

     I so long that we become a culture that celebrates the pregnant and the mothers.  We may or may not be in the physical prime of our twenties, but our stretch marks, saggy bellies, expanded pelvic bones, and thicker thighs are the channel through which God works to raise up the next generation.  Isn't that worth a little sacrifice?

    And so that's where I found myself going into my second trimester.  At a crossroads of sorts.  Either I give in to my anxiety about weight gain, or I continue to eat and exercise in a healthy manner and leave the weight gain to God and pregnancy, trusting (because isn't the opposite of fear always trust?) that healthful habits will pay out in the end.

     I chose trust.  And kept eating the same way.  Except, because I was in the habit of listening to my body's cues, I noticed my appetite had definitely increased and I needed to eat with greater frequency.  We're talking every two hours people.  At least.  I'm eating something.  And now the Holy Spirit's role is not only to keep me controlled but to empower me to trust that eating this much is exactly what I need to do and not fear the possible results.

    And I have gained weight--and you know what?  After the first few weight gains, I felt a new peace washing over me.  Each pound is a sign of a developing life within me.  Each added number on the scale is one more assurance of a healthy, growing little girl who I pray--pray so diligently!--will grow up to embrace her body in a world that will seek to stagnate it.  I pray that she will "set [her] face like flint" and "know that [she] will not be put to shame" (Isaiah 50:7).

    The Apostle Paul, the man with his own "thorn in the flesh," said, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Galatians 6:14). Think about that.  He gloried in one of the most excruciating, gruesome, and terrifying experiences ever devised by mankind.  The Cross is a place of the most extreme personal sacrifice: death.  Death to self.  Death to the flesh.  Death to our selfish desires.  So instead of disdaining the stretch marks and weight gain, let's glory in them, knowing that, just like the Cross, they lead to miraculous life.  Life.

****

    Let's be healthy.  If you're pregnant, move, eat, and take your prenatals.  Don't over-eat, but don't over-compensate with extreme exercise.  Let's stop pursuing futile paths and focus more on reasonable healthfulness and preparing to mother.  And the latter should take up far more of our pregnant days than hours at the gym.  Let's usher in this next generation secure in our bodies, secure in Christ, secure in the shadow of the Cross.